Swimming Robben Island
I did my first Robben Island crossing in April 2009 as part of the annual Freedom Swim. We had sat on the island all morning, getting dehydrated and sun-burned, waiting for the fog to lift and only started swimming around 14:00. The water was a chilly 13 degrees and by the time I reached Big Bay I was finished - literally. My core temperature was 27 degrees, and I was severely hypothermic, indeed, close to flat-lining. I spent the next two nights in ICU!
There was one upside to this swim: I was awarded the Peter Bales Cup for The Swim Of The Year (see medal below)!
Undetered, I attempted the 2010 Freedom Swim and this time the water was even colder. Armed with the experience of the previous year I bailed after about two and a quarter hours and went home!
With two bad experiences behind me I was determined to do an enjoyable (?) crossing and so in 2011 I gathered some friends together and we waited until the water had warmed to 16 degrees. The story below relates our successful (and enjoyable!) crossing.
Saturday 2 April 2011 dawned a beautiful calm sunny autumn day. I looked out the window, grabbed my phone and told the team we had a GO! We had been planning this swim for weeks, waiting for the perfect day. For much of the preceding week we had had a steady north-west wind with rain and big seas, but the important factor was that the water was warming up nicely. By Friday the wind had swung to south-west, the skies were clearing and the sea temperature was 16 degrees. There were eight of us in the team. Five of us had already done at least one Robben Island crossing under gruelling conditions (me, Charlie Reid, Shirley van Dam, Chris Loker and Monika Hayes), and three novices (Warren King, David Taitz and Keither Struthers). This time the idea was not just to finish, but to actually enjoy the experience.
We got to the island around 08:30 in five boats (David had already started an hour earlier). Although there was a pretty hefty swell running, in the lee of the island it was calm, glassy and a warm 16.5 degrees. We swam ashore to the island and we were off!
The first two kilometres or so were pure joy. Charlie, Shirley and I were swimming stroke for stroke together at a nice easy pace. Table Mountain on my right in the distance, two boats and two paddlers what more could one ask for? I felt like I could swim forever.
We swam non-stop for 40 minutes before stopping for a feed: a Hammer gel and a sip of energy drink. Charlie and Shirley were in high spirits: Charlie floating on his back shouting Hoopla!, and Shirley doing some synchronised swimming tricks. I felt obliged to tell them to get a grip and move on.
We swam another 40 minute leg before feeding again. By now we were about half way and could make out the Blouberg coastline. We also saw quite a few jellyfish, floating kelp and seals, who have the annoying habit of swimming directly under you. And this is where the mental pain starts.
I wasn’t particularly cold or tired. But my hands felt like clubs attached to the end of my arms, and the people on the boat begin to appear blurry. The coastline looks so tantalizingly close, yet you swim and swim and you never seem to get there. Time stands still; you dont even think about eating or drinking, you dont even think about sharks. All you want is some blessed sand beneath your feet!
About a kilometre and a half from the coast Sandi, my second, jumped in to swim the last leg with us. But as it happened we had misjudged the currents and instead of being swept gracefully into Big Bay we found ourselves off the rocks close to the end of Tableview. Apparently we swam for about 15 minutes on the spot as we tried to move back up towards Big Bay, and in the end we were told to just have a go at landing where we were.
Where we were happened to be a tiny 3m wide gap in the rocks which was being pounded by a really nasty shore break. Sandi gallantly led the way and miraculous ended up unscathed on the beach. Shirley and I, being somewhat pooped after 3 hours swimming, hesitated and got lumbered on a submerged reef before making a final panic-stricken sprint through the gap with waves crashing over us. Charlie was right behind us, but twisted his knee in the attempt and had to be helped out of the water.
The sea temperature at the coast was 18 degrees and the sun was beating down so that when we got out we weren’t even shivering. Indeed, at no time was cold an issue. I wasn’t even particularly tired, although my shoulders were a bit stiff. The GPS on our boat showed we had swum 9km in 3:08. Except for the rough ending, it had been the perfect crossing.
However, having landed about 1km south of Big Bay beach there was no one there to meet Sandi and I. So we trudged back to Big Bay leaving a trail of blood (I had gashed my knee on the rocks coming in) and a string of expletives behind us, only to find that there was no one to meet us at the Blouberg Club either! So we hung around in our Speedos for a good 40 minutes with no towels, no clothes, no hot chocolate, no nothing. We eventually found my sister, who was supposed to have been waiting for us, drinking coffee at a nearby cafe!