A 24-year-old Lander woman is recruiting brave souls to jump into the icy Popo Agie River with her this winter, and she's determined to keep taking the plunge herself until spring.
Felicity Hnilicka has been jumping into the river during the colder months for about three years, but she's never made it through an entire winter.
This year, she wants to change that.
Now she's inviting other Lander residents to join her at the City Park bridge near McManus, hoping she will find others willing to take the plunge.
For Hnilicka, the appeal isn't just the rush of jumping into frigid water. It's what she believes the experience teaches her about facing uncomfortable situations, managing stress and getting things done.
Not everyone understands the appeal, but one University of Wyoming exercise physiology expert explains what exactly happens to a person's body when they plop into freezing, moving water — and why some are calling the post-plunge feeling "euphoric."
'You Gotta Go'
Hnilicka's fascination with cold weather began long before she started jumping into rivers.
Born and raised in Lander, she grew up on a small family farm outside of town, where winter provided its own peculiar form of entertainment.
She remembers her siblings challenging one another to run barefoot through the snow to where the family kept dog food in a detached garage, and the sensation of joy that followed.
While others bemoan the coldest months, she favors them.
On a bitter February morning in 2024, when the temperature outside was about 16 degrees, Hnilicka and a few friends decided to plunk into the Popo Agie before heading out for a day of skiing.
The water was brutally cold.
By the time they climbed back onto the riverbank, their wet feet were sticking to the rocks.
But somehow, Hnilicka loved it.
That was one of the more memorable plunges for the 24-year-old, who has spent portions of the past three winters voluntarily dunking herself into ice-crusted streams, often alone.
A former personal trainer with an interest in hot-and-cold therapy, Hnilicka said she believes the practice has improved her sleep, circulation, stress management and general well-being.
"A lot of the time I don't want to do it. My body doesn't want to get into the water," she said.
Overcoming that resistance, she believes, has helped her develop discipline in other parts of her life.
"If I can just say, 'You gotta go, you gotta do it,' then it's also helped translate into not procrastinating my life events," she said, "like answering a text, responding to an email, and those kinds of things."
'It's A Rush'
Hnilicka generally begins her winter plunges in November, when the water is getting colder but the season hasn't yet reached its most punishing temperatures.
During the first couple of weeks, she keeps her exposure brief.
As the season progresses, she says she can eventually remain in the river for five to 10 minutes.
"Nothing longer, though," she said.
The Popo Agie River runs through Lander City Park, where she usually takes her plunges. Some portions are shallow enough to wade, while others have pools deep enough for a cannonball.
"The slow approach isn't usually the easiest for me," she said.
Her car is usually running, with a warm towel ready, and a cup of hot tea.
The sensation afterward is difficult to describe
"It is a rush," she said. "I just feel excited and relaxed at the same time."
Her skin turns red from the cold. Her heart races, but she says that after a few weeks of practice, she's better able to control her breathing and calm herself.
Not everyone understands the attraction.
Her mother worries, and Hnilicka remembers a group of older people walking through City Park after a snowfall who spotted her and two friends in the river.
They laughed and joked that the young people were crazy.
Not Everybody Becomes A Convert
Hundreds of miles south, near the tiny Carbon County community of Savery, Kimberly Coats gets it, too.
Coats and her husband live on a 600-acre ranch where Savery Creek runs through their property.
Her husband, a former professional athlete, had become interested in cold exposure and was already taking cold showers.
After doing some research on cold plunging, she figured they might as well give it a try.
They went outside in their robes, chopped a hole through the ice covering a deeper section of the creek and climbed into the 32-degree water.
The air temperature was around 20 degrees.
It was January or February, and it was every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.
She remembers the immediate numbness and the overwhelming shock of the cold — but then something unexpected happened.
"You get this, like, it's still hard to explain, this tingling all over your body," she said. "You feel incredibly awake, alert."
It was almost intoxicating.
"It was almost like this manufactured high," she said. "It was just like, 'Ooh, I feel good.'"
For a moment, she understood why people did it.
'The Whole Experience'
When they were doing it, neither would enter the icy creek without the other present.
"If you passed out and slipped under the ice, yeah, you could die," Coats said.
Later that spring, due to a medical diagnosis unrelated to the cold plunging, her doctor advised her to stop.
Still, she hasn't lost her appreciation for Wyoming winters.
Originally from Chicago, Coats lived in Kansas City, Las Vegas and abroad before settling in Wyoming.
She and her husband regularly snowshoe on their ranch, sometimes when the temperature is only 15 or 20 degrees.
She loves the blue skies, the crisp air and the feeling of being outside when much of the world would rather stay indoors.
"I find the cold invigorating," she said.
She believes that, for some people, being immersed in nature is part of the attraction.
"If you're dunking yourself in a tub on your back deck, like, you might not get the same appeal," she said. "But for us to do it in a river with the ice cut out, like, it was the whole experience."
What Happens To The Body?
There is a scientific explanation for at least some of what Hnilicka and Coats describe.
Ward Dobbs, an assistant professor of kinesiology and health at the University of Wyoming who specializes in human performance, said the body's immediate reaction to icy water is a powerful stress response.
The heart rate can accelerate, breathing becomes rapid and the body essentially goes on high alert.
At the same time, submerging the face in cold water can trigger another physiological reflex that slows the heart.
"Your body in that cold shock says speed everything up, but then cooling the face rapidly sends a signal to slow the heart down," Dobbs said.
Those competing reactions can create what is known as cardiovascular conflict.
For an otherwise healthy person, the body may tolerate the stress without serious consequences, but for someone with an underlying cardiovascular condition, the sudden changes can be especially concerning.
Dobbs said repeated exposure can also change how the body responds.
He compared the process to becoming accustomed to exercising in hot weather.
At first, an unfamiliar environmental stress places considerable strain on the body. With repeated exposure, the body can begin adapting.
"In theory, I mean it's similar to heat stress, cold stress, any type of stress, or even exercise," he said.
That doesn't mean a person becomes immune to the cold or that the risks disappear.
And while cold-plunge enthusiasts frequently describe improved mental clarity, better moods and increased energy, Dobbs was careful not to characterize those sensations as universal.
Not A Bathtub
Unlike a stationary cold-plunge tub, flowing water continually moves past the body, carrying away heat, Dobbs points out.
In still water, the thin layer immediately surrounding a person's skin can warm slightly.
In a river, that warmer layer is constantly being replaced.
"You have flowing water, so you have more convection," Dobbs explained, saying the the body can lose heat more rapidly.
When someone remains immersed for several minutes, the consequences can extend beyond simply feeling uncomfortable.
Cold exposure can interfere with muscle function and coordination, potentially making it difficult to swim or climb out of the water.
Dobbs pointed out that even highly trained swimmers can get into trouble in cold water, not necessarily because they've become hypothermic, but because their muscles stop responding effectively.
Someone's ability to swim in normal conditions doesn't guarantee they'll be able to do so after prolonged exposure to icy water.
Wind, water temperature, current and the ability to warm up afterward all affect the level of risk.
Gradually entering the water can help reduce the intensity of the initial cardiovascular response, he said.
He wasn't suggesting that all cold-water immersion is inherently dangerous or should be avoided.
"If anybody's ever been to Finland, that is their culture," said Dobbs. "Everybody has a sauna, and they will go cold plunge right into the lake."
Even when lakes freeze over, people cut holes in the ice to take the plunge.
“They'll cut it out and jump in there and cool off rapidly and then come back and get back into the sauna,” Dobbs said.
The idea, he explained, is that alternating between extreme cold and heat causes blood vessels to constrict and dilate, a process some believe can improve blood flow.
"Too much can be just as bad as not enough," Dobbs said.
Kolby Fedore can be reached at kolby@cowboystatedaily.com.
