That's me and Allingtown Firefighter John Amendola during the Ice Rescue training in Orange.

Cold Water Rescue Suits are designed to protect the rescuer from the cold and enable them to float in all types of water, including frozen ponds and raging ocean swells. Last week, I found out they can be pretty darn comfortable, if not exactly stylish.

As the firefighters prepared to enter the water, I noticed that two of the Allingtown firefighters wore the old-fashioned "Gumby suits" that look like foam rubber and have a black floatation ring around the midsection.

The newer suits such as those that the Woodbridge and Orange fire departments use, are much more attractive. They feature a nylon exterior and a thin, removable insulated insert to keep the wearer warm.

The one-piece suits fit anyone from a 4-foot tall woman to a 6-foot male. One of the men said it would fit me just fine. So when they asked if I wanted to try one on, I couldn't resist.

Woodbridge Fire Marshal Michael Cavanagh helped me suit up. I took off my winter boots, glasses and coat and sat down on a chair.

Cavanagh told me to plant my feet firmly into the suit's boots and then place one hand at a time all the way down into the gloved section. An assistant zipped up the front of the suit and covered my head with the tight-fitting hood. When he was done, the only part of me exposed to the cold was the area from my eyebrows to just below my nose.

With everything zipped and fastened, Cavanagh "burped" the suit. I squatted down as he released the excess air that was trapped inside. He tightened the leg straps and I waddled my way to the edge of the lake. (Not an attractive look.)

West Haven Firefighter John Amendola was my rescue buddy. With our safety lines attached, we walked across the ice and he explained how I would feel once I got into the water.

"When you drop into the hole you will float. Your legs are going to go up to the surface and you're going to have to try and keep them down," he said. "If there's too much air in the suit, then pull the strap near your mouth and let it escape."

Amendola got into the water first. He instructed me to sit at the edge on the ice and lower myself in. I immediately found my feet floating near the surface and pulled on the strap to release the air, which gave me more control.

I learned a valuable lesson in self-rescue as Amendola showed me how to bounce in the water, like a seal, and then lift my torso onto the ice shelf.

The suits have Velcro compartments in the arms, which hold plastic, spring-powered ice picks. Even with the oversized gloves, I was able to open the compartment and grasp the picks. I stabbed the ice and didn't think it would do anything, but I was soon out of the water, using the ice picks to crawl across the ice as the land crew pulled us in with the safety lines.

That was an interesting lesson and as I thanked Amendola for his assistance. He then asked if I wanted to take a stab at rescuing him from the water.

Sure, why not?

This skill involved carrying the rescue harness out to the victim and looping it under his arms so that it rested around his back and in front of his chest.

Amendola waited inside the hole in the ice. As I approached, he told me to stay a safe distance from the water's edge so that he, "the frightened victim," could not grab my feet.

I got into the water behind him, testing the ice to make sure it wouldn't collapse. I placed the ring around him, first under one arm and then the other.

I tapped my head twice to signal the on-shore crew that we were ready and they pulled us in. I then retired to the relative comfort of a heated trailer, where Woodbridge firefighter Roger Arpaia helped me get out of the suit - a tedious process.

In the end, I was tired - perhaps from the adrenaline rush - but warm enough from being inside the rescue suit. I also came away with a better understanding of what firefighters deal with in rescue situations and I am grateful to them for giving me the opportunity to learn.

This column represents the opinion of Editor Terri Miles and does not necessarily reflect the views of Hometown Publications.