The second plunge around: Braving the cold for another New Year’s dip into the Mon River

A year ago, I jumped into the Monongahela River off the Mon Wharf, Downtown. When I told friends and family what I had done, very few of them understood why I had done it.

I’m sure they’ll understood even less why I came back for a second dip, this time with snow on the ground and falling sporadically in below-freezing temperatures.

In my story on this very same activity a year ago, I wrote that I would definitely be coming back, chasing the adrenaline rush of the frigid waters and the nearly euphoric aftermath of stepping back onto the wharf, shivering and smiling.

I think my reason for returning, this time alone and after a full year of being on strike, is actually closer to what Kevin Bosetti, of Washington County, gave as his reason for coming back.

“This is like a penance for me,” he said. “I don’t really want to do it, but I have to do it. 2023 was a tough year for our family. It’s soul-cleansing, mind-cleansing.”

When his son, Justin, said “like spiritual,” Kevin agreed.

It’s a been a hard year for me, too, weathering the ups and downs of being in the longest strike in Pittsburgh history and longest open-ended strike in the U.S. right now. Even so, the atmosphere as the Mon Wharf filled up with a couple hundred people was infectious and joyous, and I was easily and happily swept up in it.

WTAE-TV’s Project Bundle Up sponsors the free event, which provides coats and other cold weather items to those in vulnerable populations in collaboration with The Salvation Army. There were T-shirts and long-sleeved shirts available for purchase, with the proceeds going to Project Bundle Up. Emergency services and Pittsburgh River Rescue were on hand to make sure everyone got out of the water safely.

I had made some improvements this year to help with my own jump, lessons learned from last year: I wore a one-piece swimsuit, stuffed my hair into a swim cap, wore actual water shoes with my toes covered, donned gardening gloves and had a bathrobe on hand to pop on right after emerging from the water.

I think all these things made a difference, but perhaps the biggest improvement was a tow strap attached to one of the concrete slabs on the wharf.

William Hesidence brings the tow strap every year to help himself and anyone else who might need it. Justin noticed the strap as he was considering the water and his own willingness to jump into it. William told Justin he was welcome to use it.

“It can hold 5,000 pounds, so you’re in the clear,” William joked.

William is a veteran of the plunge, a tradition that was started by his daughter, Savannah, when she was in high school. He lives in New Mexico, but he’s originally from Pittsburgh and comes back every year for the holidays. Savannah saw the event and “wrangled” William into it, he said.

Savannah, now a marine biologist living in Australia, didn’t participate this year, something that made her and her father a laugh. She said she’s too used to Australia’s warm climate to get into the icy waters of the Mon. On the other hand, William said Pittsburgh is warmer right now than the high-elevation he lives in, so the cold didn’t intimidate him.

“There’s a lot of comradery every year,” William said, and it’s the reason he comes back.

For Frank Nelson, the president of the Pittsburgh Polar Bear Club, it’s practically an impulse.

“I just can’t give it up. It just goes on and on, like the Energizer bunny,” he said. Frank indeed has been going on and on — 2024 was his 59th plunge.

His friend, Paul Unglo, participates every year in honor of his grandfather, Mike, who was a founding member of the club. According to Frank, the club was a haberdashery originally and participants got a hat when they emerged from the river, not shirts as they do today.

“Every year is a good year. They’re all special and unique in their own way,” Paul said.

This year, the consensus among veterans was the river level was high. To William, it was the highest he’d ever seen it since coming to the event. Frank called it a “walk in the park,” compared to other years, which includes one time when the river had flooded the wharf completely. He and a few die-hards parked at the top of the ramp leading to the wharf, walked down to the water and jumped from there, he said.

A familiar face I was happy to see again was Dan Fry, who imparted all the knowledge I needed to make a successful jump last year and who inspired the improvements in equipment I made this year.

He, too, agreed the river was high.

“High but clear, so I’m happy about that,” he said. The past year was a pretty good one for him, which was welcome news to me. Another thing I was pleased to hear? He read my story last year.

“I came across pretty heroic, which was nice of you,” he said. He said it modestly, maybe even sheepishly, but it was true. Dan was the savior of last year, and I was able to impart his advice on jumping technique to a few first-timers myself.

So was the plunge as I remembered it? I told Savannah that I suspected the true nature of the Mon had faded with memory over the past 12 months.

When I landed in the water in an almost bellyflop, my somewhat flippant words ended up being very true. It was COLD, shocking and all-consuming, and it certainly felt more frigid than Jan. 1, 2023. I swore a bit more, at least.

The post-plunge high was still there. The laughter and warmth from the people around me doing the same was like I remembered. Yes, I had come by myself, but I wasn’t alone.

I’d made quick friends with the people around me, who repeated what I had said in 2023:

“See you next year!”