Polar Glory
My Guinness World Record Experience at Norway’s Largest Polar Bear Dip
A wide shot of Ølbergstranden on December 13, 2025 — thousands of swimmers, participants and spectators packed along the sand as I took in the scale of Norway’s 3,134-person Guinness World Record attempt.
Helvete! Fæn!
Those were the words detonating between my brain cells the moment the GO signal blasted across Ølberg Beach. It wasn’t about the cold — I’ve swum in waters far below 9.9 degrees — but this morning carried a different voltage.
December 13th, 2025 wasn’t just another Saturday.
It was the day Norway stepped forward to break a Guinness World Record:
Largest Polar Bear Dip on the planet.
3,134 of us gathered like eager soldiers, ready to dethrone the Czech Republic — the previous Guinness record holder standing between us and the title.
The air vibrated with roars, screams, and pure adrenaline — the kind you can feel moving through the crowd like electricity under your skin.
I held my friend Enjoy’s hand as we sprinted towards the open sea, both shouting “FOR NORGE!” before the waves swallowed our legs.
The first plunge was a jolt — violent, beautiful — igniting every nerve ending in my body. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I controlled my breath and pushed deeper until the cold North Sea water rose to my neck.
December 13, 2025 — thousands of us charged into the 9.9°C water at Ølbergstranden, a chaotic wave of Santa hats and adrenaline, as Norway secured the Guinness World Record with 3,134 participants making the official Polar Bear dip.
Around me, people wrestled with the waves, laughing, screaming, shaking like warriors of the cold.
Yes, the water was freezing.
But the body burned with something stronger — pride, glory, and the raw hunger to win.
To claim the title. To carve Norway into the record books.
Two minutes passed.
A wave crashed into my face; I gasped, refocused, and kept going.
At four minutes, the entire beach felt like high-voltage chaos — thousands of bodies refusing to surrender to the cold.
At six minutes, the first people started climbing out of the water.
By minute seven, I followed —
not defeated, not overwhelmed,
just done proving my point.
The Guinness World Record only required us to hold our position for one single minute.
One.
So seven felt more than generous for someone with a mild cold, a sore throat,
and a shift at work afterwards.
Because seven minutes in 9.9-degree water isn’t bragging for me.
It’s simply the result of six years of throwing myself into every cold I could find — lakes, rivers, glaciers, water at zero, water below zero — learning how to meet the cold with breath, with calm, with courage. Mastering its bite.
Stepping Out Victorious at Ølberg Beach
As I walked back toward the shore of Ølberg Beach, my eyes darted across the endless field of blue IKEA bags — thousands of them — each stuffed with wool bathrobes, towels, and long johns.
And all I could think was: Shit… which one is mine?
Somewhere in the chaos, Enjoy had set her camera on a tripod to catch the action on video, but other than that tiny landmark, every bag looked identical. Thankfully, the event was so well organized that volunteers stood holding poles with numbers. I was in section 6, which narrowed my choices from a thousand bags down to twenty — and there mine was, patiently waiting like a loyal friend.
I grabbed my pink towel first, drying myself as fast as my shaking hands would allow. I live by one non-negotiable rule in cold exposure: never stay long in wet clothes. Whether the water is 9.9- degrees or sub-zero, the protocol is always the same — get warm, get dry, get changed immediately.
A selfie of me and my friend Enjoy at Ølbergstranden just minutes before the plunge — wrapped in our jackets, excited, and ready to be part of Norway’s 2025 Guinness World Record Polar Bear Dip with 3,134 participants making the official dip.
Around me, the noise was deafening — crowds cheering, laughing, shivering, celebrating in a roaring storm of adrenaline. I’m not usually a fan of packed spaces, but for Norway? Hell yes.
My phobia clocked out for the day.
Salt water dripped into my eyes as I jokingly asked Enjoy,
“Girl… that was epic, but check if my eyebrow liner survived. Those waves slapped my face like they had a personal vendetta.”
Miraculously, my sacred brows were intact — and proud.
Just like me.
Proud that Norway won.
Proud that we stood in that freezing sea as part of something massive.
Proud that my lungs were still catching up but my heart had already understood:
HOLY SHIT, I DID IT.
And that thought alone made me smile from ear to ear.
The Morning Build-Up: How Ølberg Became a Record-Breaking Moment
The start zone at Ølbergstranden — pirate flag, Norwegian flag, organizers moving with purpose — capturing the charged atmosphere right before we stepped into the icy water for the 2025 Guinness World Record Polar Bear Dip.
The organizers’ update recommended arriving two hours before the event.
Under normal circumstances, sure — but I had just finished a 12-hour night shift, stumbling home close to midnight with a mild cold, a sore throat, and enough exhaustion to make my body question all my life choices.
But routine is routine: warm shower, thyme essential oil inhalation, vitamin C, vitamin D, magnesium — and a grounding Filipino dinner of tinolang manok — chicken simmered in ginger, garlic, and lemongrass, with vegetables and broth that could resurrect the dead. I promised myself I’d keep things simple and settle my body for the next day.
I finally closed my eyes around 2:00 a.m — not from energy, but from that stubborn mix of adrenaline and fatigue that refuses to let you sleep when you know you need to. I just hoped that when morning came, my body would meet me halfway.
At 7:45 a.m., my soft alarm nudged me awake, and by 8:30 I was driving out to pick up my friend, Enjoy.
We reached the beach parking lot at exactly 9:00 — already buzzing but thankfully not full. I sipped warm water to prep my system. Food? No way.
I was far too excited to chew.
As we walked toward Ølberg Beach, we saw the registration line snaking like a hungry dragon across the sand. Thank God I’d read the organizer’s Facebook updates — I registered online days earlier. We skipped the line, grabbed our barcodes for Guinness verification, and picked up our white numbered bandanas.
Me standing on the sand dunes at Ølbergstranden, watching thousands of participants gather for Norway’s Guinness World Record Polar Bear Dip on December 13, 2025 — the moment I felt the energy of the crowd before the official dip
The atmosphere was unreal — thousands of participants, volunteers holding numbered poles, food vendors, first-aid teams, divers, the whole coastline pulsing with anticipation.
And then, through the crowd, I saw her.
Solveig.
Her colorful hair bright against the winter light, wearing a smile strong enough to fight off any December gloom. She and her friend Malin were the minds behind this entire event — two women who refused to accept “impossible.”
Solveig — The Ice Queen Who Led Ølberg to Glory
I met Solveig back in 2020, at the bleak height of the pandemic, when the world felt drained of joy. I had formed a small group called Ice and Cold Swimming in Sandnes — a stubborn, half-crazy little tribe of Filipinas teaching our tropical DNA to mutate into Viking mode. (Adapt or die, right? Okay, dramatic, but true.)
Solveig found us through Facebook, joined our dips, and since then she’s been one of my ice sisters — a woman who understands the language of cold and the glory of conquering it.
Seeing her there, leading thousands across Ølberg Beach, made me deeply proud.
What a moment.
What a legacy.
What a woman.
And what an event she and Malin created — now officially tied to Norway’s Guinness World Record.
A cheerful photo of me with Solveig at Ølbergstranden — one of the lively hosts helping run the 2025 Guinness World Record Polar Bear Dip. Her energy matched the excitement of the whole event.
The Countdown to Norway’s Guinness World Record Dip
Then came the call:
“It’s time to strip down — no hats, no gloves. Booties allowed. Minimum one minute in the water from the waistline!”
I tightened my bandana.
Pulled on my booties.
Felt my heart thundering inside my ribs.
And then the announcer began the countdown:
“10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… GOOOOOO!”
I ran toward the sea with nothing but adrenaline, determination,
and the pure, savage joy of helping Norway steal the title from the Czech Republic.
Why We Chase the Cold: My Personal Truth
Me and Enjoy standing in front of the official “Verdens Rekord i Vinterbading” poster at Ølbergstranden — captured just before we joined the 3,134 participants attempting the 2025 Guinness World Record Polar Bear Dip.
People ask why I chase the cold — why I willingly step into water that shocks the bones and steals the breath.
But the truth is, the cold has never taken anything from me.
It has only ever given.
In the cold, I meet the version of myself that heat never reveals —
the disciplined one,
the warrior one,
the soft-but-unbreakable one
who refuses to surrender to anything less than life at full voltage.
Maybe it’s my Filipina heart learning to love a Nordic country,
or maybe it’s the strange alchemy of belonging I’ve built here —
a blend of tropical blood and Viking spirit,
ice and laughter,
fear and defiance.
But standing there on Ølberg Beach,
salt stinging my eyes,
lungs catching up to my courage,
bandana still clinging to my forehead,
I felt something settle into me:
This is who I am.
This is where I am meant to be.
This is what it feels like to claim your place in a country you love.
Not with quiet assimilation,
but with wild participation —
with your whole body in the sea,
with your whole heart in the moment,
with your whole story woven into thousands of others
breaking a world record under a cold Norwegian sky.
I didn’t just join a polar bear dip.
I didn’t just help Norway win a Guinness title.
I stepped into the cold
and came out carrying something warmer:
pride, belonging, and the reminder that I can do hard things — beautifully.
And that is a feeling I will carry long after the waves forget my name.
