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About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 8, 2016)
2C THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 2016 On New Year’s Day, a cold splash of camaraderie sand, facing the water, hand-in-hand as they MXPSHGDQGZLJJOHGWRVWD\ZDUP7KHOLQHJUHZ in each direction. I peeled off my layers and ran RXWWRMRLQWKHP-XVWDV,GLGWKHKDQGVEURNHDQG legs began pounding towards the surf. Polar Bears greet the new year fearlessly, if wet By ANDREW R. TONRY For EO Media Group Mobile within ice $OOZHUHMROWHGDVWKHLUWRHVEUHDFKHGWKHZD ter. Some hesitated. Others barreled on. I was deterred to rip off the plunge like a B and-A id, in one fell swoop. Ahead of me a gaggle of teenage boys dove into the shallow waves. No point in ZDLWLQJ,¿JXUHG,WZDVWLPH$VWKHQH[WVZHOO approached I launched myself through it like a plate glass window. Submerged for those brief fractions of a second, I felt mobile within ice, somehow still liquid. I vaulted upright and blast- ed out of the water like a rocket — bellowing, twisting and shouting in a celebratory convul- sion of life and physical shock. Gone immediately were any remnants of the night before. The plodding drag of feeling half- asleep vanished. I was 110 percent, lean, mean, freezing machine. Indeed, that blink under wa- Andrew Tonry/For EO Media Group ter was more potent, more explosive than all the Members of the Arch Cape Polar Bear cups of coffee in all the world. I was not only Club head for the surf on New Year’s Day. awake, but very much alive. So too did the plunge invigorate numerous I could see the crab boats so well I began to won- biological red alerts — Dire systems warning. der: were they closer than normal, or was this We cannot sustain this. Uncontrollably, my breath shortened and quickened. I shivered with GD\MXVWWKDWFOHDU" WKH¿UVWSDQJVRIK\SRWKHUPLD Beautiful, but jaggedly crisp His name was Rip Walking from the water, the wind reared up. The buzz of a blaring alarm clock is never a I saw a man with a big, black, wool navy It stopped me in my tracks. Jesus. My body, drip- pleasant sound, particularly after partying. This coat with close-cropped gray hair and short. ping wet, felt as if icicles were forming in real goes exponential for Jan. 1. He strolled out, ankle deep into the water and time on my chest, a slick, icy crust overtaking At least the sun was out, illuminating my plunked something down into it. He raised it up my skin. I tightened, but also in a good way — bedroom, the white sheets almost aglow. The air and looked. Taking a measurement, perhaps? He leaner, and in much greater physical harmony RXWVLGHWKHPZDVMDJJHGO\FULVS$FKLQJDQGUH UHWXUQHGWRDÀHGJOLQJERQ¿UHDQG,DSSURDFKHG than only moments prior. “Are you a Polar Bear?” I wondered. luctant, I arose. I splashed handfuls of hot water Wide-eyed, pushing forward, the Polar Bears “Mhmm.” RQWRP\IDFHDQGMDPPHGDWRRWKEUXVKLQWRP\ streamed alongside me, back to their towels, to His name was Rip. In his orbit were two boys WKH¿UH$ZRPDQZHDULQJDWLQVHOFURZQORRNHG mouth. I grabbed two towels then piled multiple OD\HUVRYHUP\6SHHGRV²ORQJMRKQVVZHDW about middle-school age. They were tending over and howled as we walked: “Why do we do pants, a T -shirt, two sweaters, a wool coat, beanie WRWKHIDPLO\¿UHVWLUUHGEDFNWROLIHIURPODVW this? ” and wool socks. I wrapped the towels around my night’s celebration. Her question was rhetorical and there were a neck like a scarf, pulled on my boots and stepped Rip had indeed been taking the water tem- few added expletives, and it was said only partly outside. perature. It was in the neighborhood of 40 de- LQMHVW0\DQVZHUZDVWKHVDPH³:K\QRW"´ It was beautiful. I squinted at the glowing, grees, which was likely warmer than the air. New and profound camaraderie clear blue skies, bright green grass and rays of Such knowledge offered scant consolation. I found my towel and buried my head in it, golden sun. It was also cold. Really frigid. The When the wind blew hard its force was stag- bunnies scattered as I sauntered to my car, my gering. And while sustained gusts strong enough vigorously rubbing. It was glorious, whisking breath visible, even after closing the door. I to create little trails of sailing sand are not un- away those freezing beads and pools. I gave my turned the key and KMUN chimed over the ste- common, rarely did it get whipped to face level, chest and arms a few cursory wipes before pull- LQJRQP\XSSHUOD\HUVMDFNHWDQGDOOGUDJJLQJ reo. where it now approached On the roads there were few signs of life be- Rather suddenly, boys, girls, men and wom- them over still-wet skin. I wrapped the towel sides a few puttering chimneys. As I pulled onto en, grandpas and grandmas of all ages began around my waist and tried to take a few pictures. U.S. Highway 101 I noticed a pool of water in streaming over the rocks and onto the beach. My shoeless feet throbbed. My toes — or what the middle of the highway. It was frozen over. A They were in all manor of dress — covered in I could still feel of them — screamed in agony. Weaving about I noticed a new and profound mile or two south I passed a lone cyclist. He too bathrobes, hoodies, wrapped in towels, and in was starting his year with some healthy determi- nothing more than their skivvies. Old men in camaraderie. Where everyone emerged from their cabins stoic, they were now giggling and nation. I began to cackle. His devotion seemed to parkas to teenage girls in bikinis. “They want to be in and out quickly as pos- talking and holding hands, giving kisses, being SDOH,ZDV¿[LQJWRMXPSLQWKHRFHDQ absolutely present with one another. The shock By the time the car had warmed it was time sible,” Rip said of the hastily assembling ranks. ,QDEHDQLHDÀHHFHMDFNHWDQGZLWKDWRZHO RIWKHZDWHUMXPSVWDUWHGQRWRQO\RXUERGLHVEXW to get back out . I reached Arch Cape, but my di- a community. rections were a little loose. A “second house on wrapped around his waist I recognized Court :RRGEHJDQSLOLQJRQWKH¿UH$QROG the right” kind of thing. But I wasn’t sure where, Carrier from the Cannon Beach Chamber of rocking chair. Stray logs. Driftwood. H[DFWO\VR,MXVWWUDPSHGWKURXJKVRPHIROLDJH Commerce. I asked him if he knew who Then came a Christmas tree. It went over the crooked boulders of the sea wall and here had been a Polar Bear the longest. up in an instant, some 10-feet He pointed me back towards Rip. down to the sand. high. Everyone stepped back, The group had grown to No real sign of any Polar Bears, though. I then once, maybe twice posted up, facing south, away from the wind. It maybe 75 or more. They again. The radiating really was gorgeous. As gorgeous as it was cold. began lining up down the C arousing after New Year’s kisses I tried to ¿QGVRPHRQHWRMRLQPH%XW,GLGQ¶WJHWVR much as a nibble. No one wanted to think of the rapidly approaching morning, much less greet it by plunging into the ice-cold ocean. 2IDOOWKRVH,DVNHGQRQHKDGHYHUMXPSHGLQ alongside the Arch Cape Polar Bear Club. But a few had heard of it. Their guffaws came, drip- ping with no shortage of sarcasm. “You’re gonna get naked with a few old men, eh?” “What a way to kick off 2016.” I all but gave up. With a few friends I wan- dered out of the Warren House and down to the beach in hopes of seeing the n orthern l ights, which were supposedly visible. Besides the stars, though, the only lights found were attached to crab boats. $IWHU UHLJQLWLQJ DQ DEDQGRQHG ERQ¿UH WKHQ huddling around it for a temporary respite from whipping winds, we made our ways home. As we parted, I offered one last salvo. “Polar Bear Club in the morning?” No takers. ? 9-1-WHAT? ÀDPHVZHUHERWKIHURFLRXVDQGGHOLJKWIXO Rip was circulating, spreading the word: hot buttered rum party at his cabin in one hour. Folks spilled back off the beach, into the surrounding homes. Rip invited me in. A hot buttered rum party We walked up the path, past last evidence of last night’s revelry, to the cabin. It’s been in the family since the 1950 s. The wooden sides were angled like the letter “A,” low, tight and aged. &RDOVFUDFNOHGLQWKHVWRQH¿UHSODFH,QWKHNLWFK HQ D ÀRRUWRFHLOLQJ ZDOO RI WDFNHGXS SKRWRV and Polaroids chronicled generations. Most ev- eryone in the room — near 10 family and friends — had wet hair. I was handed a steaming cup of rich, black coffee. Rip had one, too . Hot buttered rum was being readied, stirred on the stove. Rip and I sat down at the kitchen table and he told me about the Polar Bears. Two subse- TXHQW JHQHUDWLRQV MRLQHG XV ² 5LS¶V QHSKHZ and some teenage boys. The youngsters tuned in, wide-eyed and ears open. They even had ques- tions — and tales — of their own. The family had been at it since the ’60s, Rip said. He himself has missed maybe four plung- es in the last four-plus decades. He now lives in San Francisco, but makes a point of making the trip. Rip said his mom recently retired from the FOXE6KHMXVWWXUQHG,WZDVKHU¿UVW\HDUQRW diving in. Rip said his mom was one of the originals, along with a woman named Barbara Shaw, ZKRKDGMXVWSDVVHG%DUEDUDZDVNQRZQDVWKH queen. In her honor, Barb Beemer was bestowed the ceremonial honor. Turns out we crossed paths earlier. She was the one wearing the tinsel crown. As the hot drinks warmed our lips, hands, mouths and bellies, we talked about tradition, family, community and the beach. We talked about what keeps an event like this going, and what makes it special. Rip said that part of the allure was the cleans- ing, the washing away of 2015. But we agreed, it’s more than that: it’s meeting the n ew y ear and clearing a hurdle — doing something that’s hard, RU VRPHWKLQJ WKDW VFDUHV \RX RU MXVW WKURZLQJ caution into the wind. In a way, it’s about being IRROKDUG\RUPD\EHMXVWGHWHUPLQHG²VHHLQJD wall and putting your shoulder down and plow- ing right through it. It’s an exercise of abandon and will. And once you’ve done it, plunged of RQH¶V RZQ YROLWLRQ LQWR WKDW LFH FROG 3DFL¿F you emerge feeling anything is possible — like, “OK, what’s next?” Toasty warm I remembered what I’d told my friends the night before, trying to convince them to come: ³:KHQKDYH\RXHYHUMXPSHGLQWKHRFHDQDQG regretted it?” As I returned home to Cannon Beach, a new- ly minted Polar Bear, I roused my friends for brunch. Their heads were still cloudy, and they shivered as they left the house. All day I stayed toasty warm. Swimmers enjoy New Year’s Day with a dip into the Pacific Ocean. Andrew Tonry For EO Media Group Santa, no! C hristmas in Warrenton. The colorful lights, the glistening frost, the el- derly man riding a red scooter who hit someone’s dog with a stick ... Hold on, really? Follow reporter Kyle Spurr on his 9-1-What? Twitter watch, where a few of the sometimes head-scratching calls to area dispatch take center stage. The full feed is at www.twitter.com/9_1_WHAT. THE BEST OF THE WORST CALLS TO ASTORIA 911 DISPATCH 3 W AY S TO GE T Y O U R CO PY TOD AY ! OR DER ON LIN E w w w .DiscoverO urCoast.com /order S TOP BY ON E OF OU R 3 LOCATION S A storia • 949 Exchange St. Seaside • 1555 N . Roosevelt Dr. Long Beach • 205 Bolstad A ve. E. #2 o r CALL HOLLY LAR K IN S at 503-325-3211, x227 Em ail: hlarkins@ dailyastorian.com
