It's one of the most life-affirming things you can do. It wakes you up. You feel energized and alive. Last year we said we'll do it until it's not fun anymore. It's not not fun yet.”

Melinda Green

Saturday afternoon, Sakonnet Point: A west wind was blowing close to 20 miles an hour, making the 24-degree air seem absolutely frigid. White caps marched across the harbor, empty except for a few fishing boats. The dark green water was churned up with seaweed and measured a hypothermic 36.5 degrees. And a thin layer of slushy ice coated the sand along the high tide line.

It was a very cold day.

Just before 3 p.m., a handful of swimmers pulled up to the boat ramp, shed their winter clothes in favor of bathing gear, and made a few jokes about the beautiful weather. One lost his towel to the wind — a gust whipped it out of his hands and deposited it in a slushy puddle across the other side of his car, ruining his chances at drying off afterward.

"Has anyone ever driven by and asked to join your group?" a reporter asked Melinda Green, who has helped organize the daily swims for more than a year.

"Nobody's asked yet!"

With that, they walked down the ramp, waded in about chest deep and took the plunge, emerging 10 minutes later with bigger smiles than they had when they went in.

Meet the Mermazons

The 'Mermazons,' as Green calls the group, is one of two in these parts who try to get wet every day of the year, is one of at least two groups that plunges daily along the south coast.

Though weather sometimes prevents it — the recent snowstorm forced them to take a day off, for instance — the Mermazons meet daily, at either 7 a.m. or 3 p.m., at various locations across Westport, Little Compton and Tiverton. Where they go depends on the wind, the tide and their whims.

The semi-organized swims began prior to last winter. Initially it was only Green and one or two friends, but the Mermazons have since picked up a few new regulars. Now the group runs as many as five or six strong.

Green said the decision to start the Mermazons seemed a natural. She loves that while it's easy to enjoy the beauty of the area in the summertime, that beauty still exists in the winter and it would be a shame to miss it. And the health benefits, both physical and spiritual, are endless, she said.

With COVID making it difficult to socialize over the past two years, the Mermazons have been a life saver:

"I can only speak for myself. But there are a bunch of factors. It's like going to Cheers, where everybody knows your name. So just having this structure of socializing in a time when that was harder to do, when we were in the depths of 'You can't go anywhere, you can't do anything,' was huge."

Not that they don't take precautions. When she decided to start looking into winter swimming, Green watched as many YouTube videos as she could find, and was drawn in particular to a professor in Portsmouth, England, who is an expert on the effects of cold water immersion on the human body.

Following tips from him and others, the Mermazons have a few rules: They don't stay in the water for more than 10 minutes and always have a spotter on land who counts the time for them. Most, but not all, wear some form of thermal protection, be it neoprene booties and gloves, caps and thin wetsuits. And they don't venture out into water that's not shallow enough for them to stand in.

On shore, Melinda's husband David Webb is in charge of keeping watch on the time, and he motions to the swimmers when their time is up. He also collects towels and jackets, handing them out as they emerge. He's never jumped in himself, he said:

"Oh no," chuckling. "That's for them."

'Life-affirming'

Since they started, Green said she has found innumerable benefits far beyond the socialization she sought in the depths of the pandemic. She feels better and stronger, she's more alert, and the recent Little Compton transplant has found a deeper connection with the ocean than she had before.

"We aren't any type of super athletic specimens," she said. "We just decided that we wanted to do it. If you put your mind to it, you figure out how to do it."

Trying to describe the experience to curious friends and family isn't always easy, and she never tries to talk anyone into it who hasn't expressed interest. But if someone seems interested, she'll invite them to join in and cheer them on if they decide to go for it. So what's it like?

"It's one of the most life-affirming things you can do. It wakes you up. You feel energized and alive. Last year we said we'll do it until it's not fun anymore. It's not not fun yet."

Editor's note: A reporter swam out with the group Saturday, hoping to stay with them for 10 minutes and thus better describe the experience. He didn't last three minutes, and his puddle-soaked towel was of no help when he emerged.