Groups of people meet up to jump into the water together during the annual Barton Springs Polar Bear Splash at Barton Springs on Monday, January 1, 2018. RICARDO B. BRAZZIELL / AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Austin American-Statesman
I did not arrive at Barton Springs Pool on January 1, 2025, with the resolve of a person who believes a year should be properly begun at 8:30 in the morning. My New Year’s Day began closer to noon, after a night that had ended around four, the sound of downtown’s Coconut Club still ringing in my ears. By then, the lawn around the pool had settled into a calm rhythm: blankets spread like small claims of territory, thermoses opened and closed, people standing in loose circles as if rehearsing courage.
This was my first polar plunge in Austin, though I have lived here long enough to know the story people tell about Barton Springs, the spring-fed pool that never changes temperature: that this place endures no matter how the city around it remakes itself.
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What I did not know was how much of the morning would be spent watching people prepare.
Erik Schuchmann jumps with his sons Dexter, 5, left, and Milo, 3, during the Polar Bear Plunge at Barton Springs Pool on Jan. 1, 2019.
Austin American-Statesman
The air was cool enough to justify jackets, though not cold by the standards of people who move to Austin from Northern climes and tell you, repeatedly, what cold really is. January here is unpredictable. Some years it feels like an apology for summer; other years it reminds you that weather is not obligated to be kind. People talk about bracing themselves before the plunge, and they do, but there is a curious reversal that happens once they are in. On warmer days, Barton Springs feels shocking, even hostile. In winter, the water feels — if not warm — then dependable, almost forgiving. You can see it on the faces of swimmers as they surface: the brief relief, the laugh that comes not because it is pleasant, but because it is survivable.
Preparation was not subtle. Friends linked arms and counted down, families huddled with towels already positioned for a quick exit, parents negotiated with children who had agreed to this in theory but were now reconsidering. There was a particular look people wore just before stepping onto the concrete: the awareness that someone was watching, that this moment would be remembered or photographed or brought up later in the year as proof of something — bravery, recklessness, commitment.
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Lou Choucroun, 3, watches as his mother Ashley Choucroun gets out of the water during the Polar Bear Plunge at Barton Springs Pool on Jan. 1, 2019.
Austin American-Statesman
I stood at the edge longer than necessary, telling myself this was reporting. Around me, strangers offered to hold phones, to take photos, to count down. There is a temporary intimacy that forms in places like this, among people who have agreed to do the same uncomfortable thing. For a few minutes, you are aligned. You will all be cold together.
John Dunham, 42, left, shows Anna Uliassi, 44, a picture of her jumping in during the Polar Bear Plunge at Barton Springs Pool on Jan. 1, 2019. [ANA RAMIREZ/AMERICAN-STATESMAN]
Austin American-Statesman
When I finally stepped in, the shock arrived exactly as advertised: immediate and clarifying. It made the year feel very present, stripped of abstraction. The past night, the weeks before it, the vague intentions set on Dec. 31 all receded in favor of a single fact: I was in cold water, and my body knew it.
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Few people stay in the water long. This is not endurance swimming. It is a dip. You go under, you come back out, and you are met with towels and cheers and, if you time it right, hot coffee. On the steps, people compared notes: how long they lasted, whether it was better or worse than expected, whether they would do it again.
By early afternoon, the crowd thinned. Some people lingered on the grass with blankets and jackets, reluctant to leave the feeling that comes after you have done the thing you said you would do. Others packed up and headed back to the rest of their New Year’s Day.
Thousands jumped into Barton Springs Pool during the Polar Bear Plunge at Barton Springs Pool on Jan. 1, 2019.
Austin American-Statesman
Barton Springs returned to itself, the water still moving, indifferent to calendars. The plunge is less about shocking the body than about situating yourself in a tradition that promises continuity. There is comfort in being a part of something that does not change.
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The year would resume its usual pace. But for a few minutes, swimming in that water, it felt possible to believe that beginnings matter. That how you enter a year could, in some small way, shape what follows.
What to know about the 2026 New Year’s Day Polar Plunge in Austin
People give their year a cool start at the Barton Springs annual New Year’s polar bear splash in Austin on January 1, 2020.
Lola Gomez/ American-Statesman
The Polar Bear Plunge presented by the Save Our Springs Alliance will start at 8:30 a.m. on Jan. 1. People will be jumping in the water through 2 p.m., but the community group jump is scheduled for 9:30 a.m. Attendees get free coffee and doughnuts. There will also be commemorative Save Our Springs T-shirts for sale.
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The spring-fed water at Barton Springs maintains a temperature of about 68 degrees. January in Austin can have chilly temperatures, especially in the mornings. If you plan on participating, make sure to wear warm clothes before and after the plunge.
Aubrey Fox holds her son Miles Fox, 7, after he jumped into the water during the Polar Bear Plunge at Barton Springs Pool on Jan. 1, 2019.
Austin American-Statesman
Entry to the pool is free until March. The Polar Bear Plunge often raises money for local organizations that work to protect and preserve Barton Springs and the surrounding natural areas.