December 02, 2006 - 7:35pm - Ashland, Wisconsin.

So, I know you're sitting there, wondering "What fun stuff has Deb done today?!" Well, the answer to that would be: Nothing. I did nothing at all today. I woke up on a cold floor, ate brunch, and sat around. For hours. And hours. And then I'm pretty sure I took a nap. I listened to Simon and Garfunkel for about 20 minutes.

Then I had dinner. And told funny car/deer stories. Now I'm working on this monstrosity. I made a work of art earlier called "Stewart Jones." It's a Granny Smith apple, pulverized by several safety pins, a Jones Soda bottle cap, and four insulin syringes. Pure genius, I say.

ANYWAYS. Yesterday's adventure! The scene: Ashland, Wisconsin. December, 2006. The weather: Snowstorm, temperature of five degrees fahrenheit. My roomate, two neighbors, and a friend from another residence hall, along with an upstairs-neighbor and somebody I don't know arrive at Pamida Beach at midnight. We proceed down the hill, across the train tracks, to the ice-covered beach.

Cue uncertainty. We walked along the beach for a bit, examining the ice and the water, which was filled with miniature icebergs. My heart quaked at the mere sight of the frigid water of the Chequamegon Bay, which is part of Lake Superior. For those of you in foreign lands, or who just don't realize the grandeur of Gitchigami, this Great Lake happens to be the third-largest lake in the WORLD. Located directly north of Wisconsin, forming the border between Wisconsin and Canada, this lake is in a constant state of frigidity. This body of water is cold in JULY.

After thoroughly examining the icy water beyond the beach of solid ice, we found a suitable place to perform our outrageous stunt. The moon shone brightly through the clouds, and snowflakes melted on our faces as we got psyched for our mini-adventure.

I heard somewhere that in anticipation of extreme cold or other traumatic experiences, one's body temperature automatically rises a few degrees. This would have made the average body temperature approximately one-hundred-three degrees. I resisted the urge to shiver and take energy away from keeping my temperature up.

My roomate and our neighbor speed-stripped and walked into the water, holding hands. The entire scene was kind of ethereal, with the diffused light of the moon through the clouds, and the bright white dots of falling snow. They waded out to the water, went under, and waded back.

Ice crystals had formed on their hair before they even reached the shore, and we all threw towels on them and got clothes on them. They walked to the heated car, and it was my turn.

The moment I took off my coat, everything went on auto-pilot. I stepped into the water and for a microsecond contemplated going back, and as I waded out to my waist, I wondered if I might truly be insane. The first time I'd ever "skinny-dipped," the first time I'd ever touched more than my feet to the waters of Lake Superior, and it was at midnight, in December, during a snowstorm and a temperature of five degrees. I've officially gone off the deep end.

We packed everyone back into the car and drove home, exhausted, cold, and wet, and somehow, we were grinning like a bunch of doped-up lunatics. We let out random cheers and proclaimed our love for each other and how glad we were to be there at that moment, in the frigid-cold lake.

I'm pretty sure half of us are probably coming down with a mad cold, and I loathe going out into the snow to walk from building to building. I'm also sure that I would never change what happened last night. It was possibly the most outrageous, dangerous thing I've ever done, and it'll be a long while before I find anything to top it.

Website and all content copyright Deborah Campbell, 2006. Don't steal my stuff or I'll kick your ass.