Ice-cold Camaraderie

These groups of cold plungers aren’t just in it for the thrill, but for the community

By Art Bukowski | Dec. 13, 2025

One by one, vehicles rolled into a bayside parking lot caught somewhere between a cold fall night and a day that had yet to fully arrive.

And one by one the dads got out, yawning, smiling, and shaking hands with others who had arrived at Bryant Park for what’s become a sacred ritual. Many had just dropped their kids off at school, others had deliberately scheduled their morning meetings just a bit later that day.

These “Dippin’ Dads,” as they call themselves, gathered around Keelan McNulty as he read from The Daily Dad: 366 Meditations on Parenting, Love, and Raising Great Kids by Ryan Holiday.

“Do Not Be Afraid,” that day’s reading, encouraged these dads to stay strong and present in their parenting journey.

“As fathers, we need to be involved in our children’s lives not just when it’s convenient or easy, and not just when they’re doing well—but when it’s difficult and thankless, and they’re struggling,” McNulty read aloud, getting choked up in the process. “That is when they need us most.”

Then they stripped down to their bathing suits, marched into Grand Traverse Bay, and sat chest deep in the frigid water for five full minutes. After the dip they toweled off and scattered in different directions, most of them already looking forward to the next week’s plunge (and lesson).

“Anybody can go to a bar and sit around and have a beer together,” says Steve Karapetian, one of the dads. “But sitting out in icy cold water like that takes the communal aspect of it to a different level. We’re doing something different and doing it together.”

The dads are one of several local groups—and countless individuals—who have taken up the habit of cold plunging in the bay (or in tubs of ice water, in some instances). There is plenty of quality evidence to suggest various health benefits from this practice, but the social aspects are the strongest pull for many.

Taking the Plunge Together

As these things often go, the Dippin’ Dads started with a few and grew to many more as word spread. Brandon VanDerKolk, McNulty, Karpetian, and Jim Cooley started what has grown to a group that ranges up to a dozen or so people, depending on the day. They go Mondays and Fridays in the school year, with many of them trying to hit at least one day a week.

“For the most part, we’re all dads with young kids. Most of us are trying to figure out how to parent well, and how to be better husbands and better people. So a lot of our conversations focus on that,” VanDerKolk says.

When you’re actively plunging, it’s best to be chatting to keep the mind distracted. This particular environment, as it turns out, has a way of opening the mind to the most meaningful of conversations and ideas.

“I think going in and putting yourself in that vulnerable position opens you up to that,” Karapetian says. “There’s been a lot of great conversations that happened out there that probably wouldn’t have happened in a lot of other places just because you’re in a different mindset.”

You don’t have to like the cold. You just have to put up with it to reap the other benefits.

“A lot of people in the group do things that are intentionally hard for themselves, and this is a very small dose of that that you can start your day with,” Kinney says. “It makes you put yourself in that place of doing something you don’t necessarily want to do, doing something hard, and then everything else the rest of the day feels easier.”

It also doesn’t have to be all that tough. Everyone can make it as hard as they want it to be.

“We’re super safe. So if it’s really windy and wavy, we don’t expose ourselves as long,” McNulty says. “We don’t go deep. And we’re not pushing any limits, telling anyone they have to stay in for a certain amount of time. If you want to get out after a minute, get out.”

There are some established mental and physical benefits to cold plunging, but that takes a back seat for these gentlemen.

“We went down that rabbit hole a year or two ago about the physical benefits of it,” Karapetian says. “But I think that’s a byproduct. It’s secondary to the camaraderie it’s creating.”

And while there’s a lot of reasons to cold plunge, the one thing they’re not doing it for is attention.

“We’re not doing this for likes. There’s no phones. We’re not posting it on Facebook or something,” McNulty says. “It’s clean, it’s healthy, it’s wellness.”

Five Years Old Again

Over at the beach by the Grand Traverse County Senior Center, a group of women meets every Sunday morning for an identical purpose: A frigid plunge in the company of friends.

This informal, nameless group began as an offshoot of the Swell Seekers, a local open-water swimming group. Some members of that group began cold plunging so the first swims in the spring weren’t so shocking.

Now, the group is made up of plenty of women whose only ambitions are those weekly dips. Among other benefits, this plunge is a chance to forget about life’s troubles and just have fun for a little while.

“There have been moments when it's been super cold and windy, and you’re jumping in the waves—it’s just pure joy, like you’re five years old again,” says Staci Haag. “It’s giggling, and it’s ridiculous, and you’re so happy. And it looks beautiful even when it’s freezing out.”

These ladies feel a rare energy after these weekly plunges.

“I think that getting in very cold water consumes your entire body, brain, and everything about you in a way that makes you concentrate and focus in a really positive way, that then I think has repercussions on your brain for the rest of the day, something resembling euphoria,” TJ Andrews says.

Like their Dippin’ Dad counterparts, these women also crave the bonds they make in the process.

“It’s one of those shared, hard experiences where you’re like, ‘Oh my gosh, we did that, and we’re coming back next week, and we’re doing it again,’” Ashlea Walter says.

Fellow plunger Terri Hanson agrees.

“It’s definitely a bonding experience, just doing it all together with like-minded people, getting in there and supporting each other,” she says. “And for me, I know if I can do this, I can do the hard stuff.”

Going as a big group is also a great way to enjoy this practice while staying safe.

“We’ve had some moments where we realized how fragile you are. … If you’re in a strong current or if there’s giant waves, and suddenly you go under, and your hands and your head get cold, you will very, very quickly start to shut down,” Andrews says. “You need people around you.”

Adding Some Heat

Passersby on the busy U.S. 31 corridor at Traverse City State Park have probably noticed a sauna sitting there several months of the year. Perhaps they’ve even noticed people exiting this sauna during the frigid winter months and wading into the ice-cold bay for a plunge.

That’s MI Sauna, an operation run by dentist-turned-sauna operator Dan Sarya, who not long ago decided more people needed to experience the benefits of a well-run sauna, especially when combined with the bay’s icy waters. Sarya is Finnish, so sauna culture—which has deep roots and is widely practiced in Finland—is in his blood.

He’s now had scores of customers come for extended (often 90 minutes) sessions where they alternate between a very hot sauna and a very cold bay. Sarya can go on and on about the medical benefits, but like everyone else is also eager to talk about the social and emotional benefits. The shared bonds last long after the session is over, he says.

“The neat thing about it is you always feel good afterwards, so when you do something to somebody and you have fun doing it, every time you see that person you’ll have a good memory and you’ve made a new friend,” he says.

One of Sarya’s regular customers is Tawny Hammond, who is there as many as five times a week. She was skeptical at first, assuming she’d dislike both the heat and the cold.

“I was really tentative, but I went and it blew my mind,” she says. “I liked it right away…and I got hooked.”

She’s seen a “marked difference” in her mental, emotional, and physical health, she says. But she’s also made a great deal of new friends.

“We’re living in times of discord and dissension. Everywhere we look there’s a lot of ugliness. And here you are half clothed in your bathing suit sitting in a sauna. You’re sitting there vulnerable. And there’s like a sacredness around it where people are kind to each other,” she says.

Hammond will continue this practice not only for the health benefits, but for those social perks as well.

“I’ve probably made some of my best friendships going to sauna. There are people that you connect with on a deeper level,” she says. “You learn things, you bond, you share information. It’s almost like reading a newspaper, only it’s like connecting with individual community members.”