Mr.Freeze

Wim Hof became famous for submerging himself in frigid water with the calm of a Zen master, and his teachings about breathwork and the health benefits of cold plunges have attracted millions of followers. Our writer traveled to Iceland to chill with the man who made cold extremely hot.

- SUSAN CASEY

JÖKULSÁRLÓN LAGOON, ICELAND.

The air is cold but the water is colder, its surface gridlocked with icebergs. Slabs and hunks and blocks of ice the size of ships, houses, buses—they’re everywhere, crowded into the glacial lagoon. The icebergs are dazzling white and pale gray and a light milky blue, and striped with volcanic ash; the water is the color of dull metal. Low clouds press down. Seabirds shriek. On the far side of the lagoon, a glacier called Vatnajökull hunkers like the beast that it is: a 3,100-square-mile ice cap that sprawls over southeast Iceland, dwarfing other European glaciers. For anyone unaware that it is ill-advised to jump in for a dip, a big red sign spells out the hazards: NO SWIMMING— FREEZING WATER. YOU ONLY SURVIVE FEW MINUTES. And if that isn’t enough of a deterrent: DANGEROUS CURRENTS. ROLL- ING ICEBERGS FORM WAVES.

“Oooh, look at all those fears!” Wim Hof says, reading the sign in mock terror. He is 61 years old and scruffily bearded, with a growly, booming voice that’s easily heard at a distance. Hof is Dutch, his accent full of rolling r’s and long vowels. There’s nothing slick about his appearance. He’s wearing surf shorts, rubber sandals, and a tropical-print T-shirt under a thin raincoat that flaps in the wind. It’s not much in the way of clothing; by comparison, I’m swaddled in so many layers I can barely move my arms. It’s about 40 degrees Fahrenheit outside, with plenty of windchills. Farther down the beach, little clots of tourists who’ve braved the sour weather look like they’re huddled together for survival.