Come rain or snow, Stavros Nikolaou is always there for his swim. For five decades, he has walked the one-kilometer distance every day from his home to Palaio Faliro, where the Batis Winter Swimmers Club – founded in 1980 – is based. As the 70-year-old tells Kathimerini, he does not formally belong to any club. “We are the core of a group of friends who meet here every day. People come and go, but we all share the same love for the sea,” he says, while also pointing to the rejuvenating effects of cold-water swimming. Studies have shown that winter swimming boosts the immune system, improves circulation, and accelerates metabolism. It also helps reduce stress, as physical exertion raises endorphin levels, creating a sense of well-being and mental uplift.
“I feel good – really good. If you’re feeling down, you come here and it disappears,” Stavros says. “I always warm up before going into the sea – just a few exercises, mostly stretches – so I don’t get cramps. My doctor doesn’t really take a clear position. But I tell him that I feel fine, that I get dizzy not when I swim, but when I don’t come for three or four days.” That, he says, seems to have convinced him. “He tells me to keep coming, just not alone and not for too long.” These days, he notes, the water temperature is relatively high, around 18 degrees Celsius – “very warm for the season.” He concludes with a laugh: “You can dive in too.”
The sea beckons
It is a sunny day, and swimmers arrive at Edem Beach in Alimos one after another. For Stavroula Vraka, the sea is home. Originally from Petra on the island of Lesvos, she cannot imagine a day without at least “dipping a finger” into the water, as she tells Kathimerini. “My home is the water and the sea. To me, it almost feels warm,” says the 84-year-old. “Unfortunately, the climate has changed, and that frightens me. In the past, even in August, if you put your foot in the water it would freeze. Now it’s scalding,” she says regretfully.
“It’s not just the water that gives you health and euphoria –it’s also the sun. We get the vitamin D we need. Greeks have low levels, despite our long exposure to sunlight,” Vraka adds as she quickly gets dressed. “Still, we swim even when there’s no sun. The only things we avoid are rain and lightning.” She stresses that caution is essential: “You shouldn’t stand around afterward in your swimsuit. You need to put something on immediately, otherwise you risk pneumonia. You mustn’t be careless. Swimming in icy water requires rules – warming up, gradual entry, a short stay, swimming close to shore, and immediate warm clothing and hydration afterward,” the experienced swimmer advises.
A few meters away, beneath a rock, Giorgos is enjoying his swim with his group of friends. Winter swimmers for many years, they always meet at the same spot. “We’ve earned rights to this beach. If someone doesn’t show up for more than a day, we call them,” the 70-year-old says, describing their bond. “Cold-water swimming saved me,” he tells Kathimerini. “I have Parkinson’s – and look at me. I don’t know what I would do without this. My doctor calls it a miracle,” he says, gesturing toward the vast blue horizon. Still, he adds a note of caution: “I would advise everyone to consult their doctor before trying it, because every case is different.” His friends jokingly refer to him as the “president” of their informal winter swimmers’ association.
Kostas Nakopoulos also speaks of “miracles.”
A former seafarer, he has logged many “miles” as a winter swimmer. He recalls a trip to Norway: “We’re talking about latitude 62 degrees. It was August 15, in a beautiful fjord. There were 2,500 people in swimsuits. How many were swimming? Ten. I understood why as soon as I got into the water. It was 8.5 degrees. Me, trying to act tough, I lasted five minutes. It felt like needles piercing me,” he says. “We have to be careful. Since winter swimming is mostly practiced by older people, we need to be mindful and not exceed our limits.”
He recounts two cautionary tales. “There was a woman about 20 years younger than me. I swim for around 20 minutes; she stayed in the water for an hour. Then she disappeared. One day I ran into her on the street. ‘Don’t ask,’ she told me. ‘I got pneumonia.’ Another man, also younger, stayed in for only 15 minutes, but afterward sat on the sand in his swimsuit for an hour, sunbathing. Pneumonia as well. We shouldn’t overdo it. As for me, the sea doesn’t bother me at all. Do you know when I don’t swim? Only when I have a fever – and that hasn’t happened in years,” Kostas says. “Athletes also use cryotherapy. [Christiano] Ronaldo goes into a lake at minus 4 degrees to treat injuries. Cold is therapeutic; it rejuvenates everything. And here in Greece, with kilometers of coastline, we don’t even like swimming,” he concludes before preparing for his dive.
Beats the cafe
“I don’t need a psychologist – I have the sea,” says Panayiotis Kokolakis, a former shipping executive. “What should I do instead? Sit in a café and smoke? Here, I’ll live to a hundred. Even at home, my shower has no hot water – I never needed it.”
“He’s our guardian, our protector,” insists Elvetia, who always keeps a place next to him. Kokolakis also points to the dangers the sea can conceal. “Many people have been lost here. They swim beyond the buoys – I alone have rescued dozens,” he says proudly, pointing to the lifeguard’s chair, empty during the winter months. “There should be someone here even in December. So many people come to swim, and most of them are elderly,” he stresses.
A few kilometers south, in Kavouri, on a small “gem” of a beach as visitors call it, 35-year-old Makis explains that he took up winter swimming just four years ago, after the Covid pandemic. While winter swimmers are usually older, more and more young people are following suit.
“Younger people are a bit afraid of cold water,” Makis says, managing to steal time from his office job in Piraeus to come here. “But after the Covid pandemic, I noticed a shift. If you come on a Sunday, there’s nowhere to park. Some people go to psychologists – but the sea is psychotherapy in itself, whether you’re just looking at it or swimming in it.” At this time of year, he swims for about 20 minutes. “Later, in February and March, the water temperature can drop to 8 degrees. Then I can handle about 10 minutes.”
“But what I enjoy most is daydreaming – sitting here, reading a book, poetry or prose, and imagining that I’m not in Athens but somewhere else, in a dreamlike place,” he says, returning to his reading. “It’s an idea. The cold is just an idea,” exclaims a woman nearby, ready to dive in. “There’s a northerly breeze today, but you should still try it. Your senses will wake up – you’ll forget everything.”