In September 2023, I set out with my friend Queenie in an attempt to swim from Robben Island to Cape Town, a swim of nearly five miles across cold and shark infested waters.
I’ve wanted to swim the 7.5km from Robben Island to the mainland for more than 20 years, ever since I spent a year living in Cape Town in 1999/2000. Whilst I was teaching English in the city, the island became a symbol of the triumph of democracy and freedom over oppression. The story of Nelson Mandela and the 18 years (of his 27 years) he spent as a political prisoner on the island before going on to become the first president of a free South Africa was certainly inspiring. I would look out over Robben Island on my way to the school each day and it was the last thing I saw as the sun set on top of Table Mountain where I spent the Millennium dreaming of what the future might hold.
A few years later, my husband and I would Escape from Alcatraz on another swim from another prison island, but I never thought it would take me more than two decades to “do the double.” Life just got in the way, until my friend Queenie finally got fed up with me talking about it and agreed to attempt the swim as well. So, in September of this year, we took the 12-hour flight to Cape Town, flying over the island just before we landed. The swim distance looks a lot more manageable from a few thousand feet up in the air…
The Freedom Day Swim from Robben Island to mainland Blouberg used to be held annually, as a one-day mass participation event to symbolise South Africa’s Freedom Day and Democracy on or around 27 April each year. It was founded by extreme swimmer and founder of the International Ice Swimming Association, Ram Barkai in 2000. As a result of the pandemic, the Freedom Swim Wave Series replaced the main swim as a way of reducing the mass gathering of people and the safety of swimmers. Instead, a series of smaller swims are held throughout the year, usually with between five and 15 swimmers at a time.
There are a number of challenges involved in the swim, which the website describes as being “one of the hardest extreme cold open water swims in the world” and the “Everest” of every open water swimmer in South Africa. Fortunately, I didn’t read that bit before the swim, or indeed mention it to Queenie. We were aware that it could be cold, as although it is in the Atlantic Ocean, the deep water comes from the Benguela current bringing water from the Antarctic to the south. The surface water can fluctuate between 11c and 18c depending on the wind, but we were hoping it would be around 15c for our swim. How wrong we were.
Although the organisers say that there has never been a shark attack during one of their events or even seen one, that’ still a lot of psychological fear to contend with.
The more obvious concern for us was wild life. Robben Island takes its name from the Dutch/Afrikaans name Robbeneiland, which translates as seal(s) island. But we weren’t too concerned about Cape fur seals, dolphins (obviously) or even the southern right whales found in these waters. It was more the great white sharks that every single person warned us about when we told them we were going to attempt the swim. Although the organisers say that there has never been a shark attack during one of their events or even seen one, that’ still a lot of psychological fear to contend with.
Following a bit of pre-swim research, I discovered that humans kill around 100 million sharks every year, while the average number of worldwide human shark attack fatalities is around five. To put that in perspective, an estimated 24 people die in France each year from accidents involving champagne corks. 900 Americans die of diseases related to constipation, and a staggering 32 ramblers have been killed by cows in the UK over the past five years. Peter Benchley and Steven Spielberg have a lot to answer for.
When you book on a Freedom Day Series Swim, you need to have a free window of a week to ensure optimum weather conditions. Unfortunately, Cape Town was incredibly windy when we landed and the sea was very rough, so we had to wait several days before our pilot Roger told us we were good to go. “Roger, Roger.” We made full use of this time doing touristy things like wine tasting and eating too much, but we did get one practise swim in at Sea Point Pool, which is one of the most stunning Olympic-sized saltwater swimming pools in the world, with views across to Robben Island.
It was also around then we noticed the sea temperature on the boat’s control panel. It was 12c, a lot colder than we were expecting, which had been cause by the strong winds.
Just as we’d resigned ourselves to the fact that the swim wouldn’t be going ahead and we could just enjoy a great holiday, Roger told us we were good to go. So off we set from the attractive little harbour at the Water Club and out to the island. Joining our boat man Roger Finch (epic swimmer - channel, Manhattan Island, Catalina Channel, Gibraltar Straights and of course lots of Robben Island crossings) was his wife Lindsay, who was our official observer and my husband Aaron, who had been instructed to look out for fins.
On the route out across the Bay, Roger pointed out whales that were breaching in the water ahead of us. It was also around then we noticed the sea temperature on the boat’s control panel. It was 12c, a lot colder than we were expecting, which had been cause by the strong winds.
To say I had pre-event anxiety would be an understatement, but once you have got yourself this deep into something, there is really no turning back. The boat stopped just off the south east side of the island near an old pier and we were told we needed to swim to shore before starting the challenge. Queenie was first to jump off the side of the boat and her squeal gave me a good indication of how cold the water was. It was absolutely freezing as we swam through a kelp forest towards the shore, then stood up, careful not to cut out feet on the rocks and attract any unwanted predators. Then Linsay sounded the air horn and we were off.
For the first ten minutes, my anxiety levels were off the chart and this in combination with swallowing a fair bit of salty water led to me retching for the first few hundred metres or so, and I could only swim breaststroke. Queenie and the support boat were moving way ahead of me and I realised that there was no way I could swim five miles in this state. A few weeks before the swim, Queenie shared a counting technique she uses, when she counts to 100 every breath (every two strokes for her and three for me) then does 10 strokes of breast stroke as a bit of a treat and to enjoy some scenery. So, I started doing this and amazingly it worked. It’s quite meditative and actually helped to calm myself down.
It was absolutely amazing to see the epic sight of Table Mountain on one side of me and then the boat and the reassuring sight of Aaron and Lindsay on the other.
The water was wonderfully clear and I saw quite a few jellyfish, but fortunately quite far below me. I also saw a lot of dark shapes moving even further down, which were almost certainly southern right whales, with their black skin and white blaze on their bellies. It was absolutely amazing to see the epic sight of Table Mountain on one side of me and then the boat and the reassuring sight of Aaron and Lindsay on the other. However, it was really strange that the bottom half of me was so cold while the top half where the sun was beating down was so warm.
People talk about hitting walls on long sporting events and I hit several. At one point I was fairly convinced we had done two thirds of the swim. I was absolutely exhausted and couldn’t really swim very well any more. My breathing had gone to pot and both of my little fingers were so cold I couldn’t cup my hands very well on each stroke. Then when I stopped for water and half a banana, Roger told us we were only half way. I’d actually thought we were almost there, there was no way I could swim another 4km.
The next time we stopped for a feed, I discovered that Queenie had been suffering from a pulled hamstring from when she had jumped into the water at the start of the swim. Then she started getting cramp - first her left and then her right calf and quad. With 2.2km to go and the water temp now at 11c, she made the decision to get out. When she told me she was stopping, I was so tempted to join her. Then I reminded myself that I had dreaming about doing this swim for 20 years and that as we were doing it for our local hospice, at least one of us should finish it, so I pushed on.
I was so cold and tired by this point, the counting technique had gone out of the window and I was convinced my swimming technique must look so bad by now, that Roger would pull me out at any second. The beach in the distance never seemed to get any closer over the last hour or so. And some rocks I swam over offered false promise that I was almost there. Then when the beach seemed really achievable, huge waves started crashing over me and I found myself underwater and struggling for the surface. Then Queenie appeared next to me. She had decided to get back into the freezing water to join me for the final 200m to the shore. It was such a welcome thing for her to do.
Although reaching land was a magical moment, I was very concerned about the waves that were now crashing onto the beach. The team on the boat were also signalling frantically for us to return, as the sea conditions were getting a lot choppier. It was a real battle through some fairly hefty surf, with aching muscles to get back to the boat, but we somehow managed it. The special moment on the boat where Roger and Lindsay were awarding me my medal was somewhat spoilt by the sound of Queenie throwing up over the side, but I would have it any other way.
My teeth were chattering and I was shivering the whole way back, but I soon warmed up in the Cape Town sunshine and the knowledge that I had finally achieved what had become a lifetime goal. I’m a fairly slow swimmer and it had taken me around four hours to complete the crossing. But in my hand I was holding a medal with a quote from Nelson Mandella on it saying “It always seems impossible until it’s done.” Although at the time I said to myself, “never again,” Queenie and myself have already started planning our next adventures. Perhaps somewhere a little warmer next time.
Matt Newbury is the co-author (along with Sophie Pierce) of several in the series of Wild Swimming Walks books, which are published by Wild Things Publishing. Their latest book, Wild Swimming Walks: Exmoor and North Devon is out in now.
To book yourself on the Freedom Swim Wave Series, visit www.freedom-swim.co.za This article first appeared in Outdoor Swimmer magazine.
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