Third time’s the charm: I jumped into the Mon River for the third year in a row

It’s hard to believe today is my third New Year’s Day on strike. On Jan. 1, 2023, I didn’t think I would still be on strike when I jumped into the Monongahela River on Jan. 1, 2024. So to be heading back to the Mon Wharf, Downtown, for the annual Pittsburgh Polar Bear Plunge for a third time, still on strike, was a strange feeling to say the least.

This year, though, there’s light at the end of the tunnel: The National Labor Relations Board filed an emergency injunction on Dec. 20, which if granted would resolve most of the issues we are striking over. It’s good news I was happy to share with some familiar faces.

That first chilly morning in 2023, I met Dan Fry. He helped me make a first successful plunge. I ran into him again in 2024, and I was happy to hear that he was doing well and that the year had treated him well. Today I was delighted to run into him again and hear the same happy report about how he’s been doing.

This time around, he was joined by his wife, Karen, as well as his daughter, Megan, and cousin Amanda Short, both of whom were taking the plunge for the first time.

Dan was pleased with the water conditions this year. It was clear of debris, which Dan wasn’t sure would be the case after the rainy conditions Tuesday. The temperature outside was less welcome for me, Amanda and Megan. According to the sign-in book, the air was 35 degrees while the water was a balmy 42 degrees. (Tell that to my toes!) The chillier conditions didn’t bother Dan, though.

Don Bittner, Dan’s friend who I’d met two years ago and also seen last year, wasn’t much of a fan of the weather.

“If it gets any colder, I’m gonna wear a full scuba suit,” he joked. He also wasn’t a fan of the wind. “The wind is tough; that’s what’s rough.”

His son, Baden, joined him this year. It wasn’t difficult to get Baden to come.

“I like it, that’s why I’m here,” he said.

Megan, Dan’s daughter, didn’t need much convincing, either. She just decided she wanted to go, and that was that.

“I was peer-pressured,” Dan’s cousin Amanda joked.

I tried my best to get a few friends to join me. But it didn’t work out. The polar plunge can be a hard sell for the uninitiated — wake up early on New Year’s Day to strip down in the cold and jump into a cold river.

“It’s an adrenaline rush,” Don said. It really is, and I was jittery with anticipation as I walked around.

A Pittsburgh River Rescue boat was already in the water, and emergency services were on hand and had put up a warming tent under the overpass. Hot coffee and cocoa were also offered to attendees. The free annual event is sponsored by WTAE-TV’s Project Bundle Up, which provides coats and other cold weather gear to those in vulnerable populations in collaboration with The Salvation Army. Proceeds from the T-shirts and long-sleeved shirts available for purchase go to Project Bundle Up.

I ran into another familiar face: Kevin Bosetti. I’d met him last year, and he echoed the same sentiments as before.

“I love New Year’s — being able to say goodbye to the year and start anew,” he said. It’s never a struggle to get to the wharf for him. “I got to do it. It’s a penance.”

Kevin told me he had been a steelworker for 43 years, which was so nice to hear. Being on strike this long, I’ve learned to appreciate solidarity in a more personal way. I feel kinship from the heart, like a line of understanding between me and another union member. This type of sentimental thought feels right for New Year’s Day reflections, made 26 months into Pittsburgh’s longest open-ended strike. What has gotten us through is one another, and the United Steelworkers have been incredibly generous to this strike.

Kevin was joined once again by his son, Justin, but he had more family with him this year, which he was excited about. He and his wife, Jennie, will celebrate their 50th anniversary on Jan. 25.

Jennie wouldn’t be jumping in the river. Like Dan’s wife, Karen, she was there as part of her loved ones’ support team. (Karen would agree to be my support, too, filming my plunge.)

Having a support team is a must for a lot of people. Giles Galahad was jumping for the eighth time in the past 10 years. He’d missed two because no one could — or would — go with him. This year, his cousin, Patty Norcus, was shivering at his side.

“You sure you don’t want to go in?” he asked Patty, who was vehement on staying dry and wharfside.

In my pitch to friends about the plunge, it’s moments like these that I emphasize: chatting with folks, learning snippets of their stories.

“One year, the water was 17 degrees, and it was 13 degrees outside,” Giles said. “Another year, a guy came in a full Elvis getup. There was another guy dressed as Superman. They both jumped in with their whole costumes on.”

There was a man wearing a Superman cape, joined by a woman wearing a red, white and blue swimsuit. Another man had a polar bear suit on. At one of the tailgates, a man wore a Viking helmet and had two large black triangles painted under his eyes down most of his face. So the spirit of costumes was alive this year.

I headed back to Dan to jump in. My feet were already cold, and I wasn’t alone in that. (“My toes are frozen!” Megan said when I brought up my frigid feet.) But I readied myself for the jump. I’d made some improvements from my previous year’s getup. I’d brought different gardening gloves to wear: This time, the fingers and palms were covered in rubber, for better grip. I also wore a triathlon unitard, designed to be worn during all three events. The two swimsuits I’d worn last year and in 2023 had both malfunctioned.

Don had ungraded his setup, too.

“Last year, when I went to put on my jacket after jumping in, it was wet from being on the ground,” he said. “So this year, brought a basket.”

It’s a good idea. I’m likely going to be implementing it next year. Megan was a fan of my returning swim cap.

Then, it was 9:30 and people were jumping into the river in groups and pairs and one by one. Jumpers handed phones to their support teams and made the leap.

I went in by myself. The water was colder than I remembered, but I think that’s always the case. I was the calmest I’ve been, though, as I turned in the water and slowly swam back to the wharf’s edge. The exit wasn’t graceful, and I don’t think it ever will be.

The euphoria, though? That was as good as I recall. It’s why I come back. It’s a clearing of the mind while the body quakes and shakes, skin numb and pink with cold. It’s the intense heat of putting warm things back on. And most importantly, it’s the huge smile meeting other huge smiles.

I’m coming back next year. I’m coming back every year I can. I was an instant convert in 2023, and I saw others around me became the same. Megan and Amanda were beaming.

“That was amazing!” Amanda said.

“Think you’ll come back?” Don asked her.

“Of course I will!”

Me, too. Me, too.