| Event | 2026 Prescient Freedom Paddle |
| Course | Long Course — Around Robben Island |
| Category | Double Surfski |
“…but you know what? I paddled around Robben Island so…”
This has become my stock standard response to what the sea conditions in Durban currently are on any given day, to my reluctance at getting up when its cold and dark, to the usual Monday morning stress and to pretty much anything that the day to day life of a therapist and mother of two nearly out of school, busy young men can throw at me. 24 days later (at the time of writing) and I still cannot believe the enormity of what our SS2, used to the warm and relatively peaceful Indian Ocean, did on the 27th April 2026.
The Commitment
I have wanted to do the Freedom Paddle for a number of years- a busy work and family life got in the way, although possibly less than my fear of what committing to entering the race would lead to. Turning 50 in 2026 and seeing the highly marketable race conditions in 2025 somehow led to a temporary default in my pre-frontal cortex and I pressed the PAY NOW button and secured an entry. What followed was four months of more physical and mental dedication to achieving something than I have ever done before. With the help of the South African Surfski Academy’s Greg Vogt, at least one hundred 4.30am alarm clocks signalled the start of the 30 minute drive to the coast for training sessions prior to Freedom. This recreational paddler was tested. Long 20-30km Sunday forays south of Durban ended in a meltdowns a few times on my behalf as seasickness, fear of the open ocean, bluebottles and the sheer distance from the comfort of my car threatened to derail my resolve. Throw in sixteen dices on Inanda Dam and a new surfski lovingly crafted by Mark Lewin of Point Watersports and Dave and I were good to go. Well, I thought we were.
What started as fairly casual Windy.com watching about eight days before the race quickly turned into almost hourly obsessive analysis of the predicted wind and swell. We carefully loaded our boat onto the trailer for its long drive to the Cape, packed, took more Vitamin C than is recommended and boarded flights to Cape Town. It was at this point that I started having an out of body experience – the dedication to getting fit and the expense of getting to Cape Town were the only things keeping me in the race. Telling family and friends that I was actually an imposter and definitely did not have the confidence or ability to earn the right to get to the start was starting to sound very appealing.
Pre-Race Jitters
Many hours on Saturday and Sunday were spent in the cold wind and rain staring at the Atlantic waters from the quayside at Granger Bay. Robben Island, barely visible in the distance lay in an ocean that just felt imperceptibly different. Then came the buzz of race registration. I was still in my little bubble of denial when along came a dear, long lost varsity friend who now lives in the Western Cape and has done Freedom twice. My answer to her innocuous questions about what clothing I was paddling in the next day was met with gasps of horror as she declared my attire most unsuitable. The nerves set in properly. More proof I was not ready for this thing. Special thanks must be made to the race organizers whose last weather report ensured hourly visits to the loo for the rest of the night, alternated with peering out of the window at the rain and listening to the wind.
Race Day
Race day dawned with a beautiful sunrise and dolphins. A second paddling top and neoprene leggings courtesy of the above-mentioned, most concerned friend appeared. We paddled out to Granger Bay to get our sea legs back and just as I was still trying to get a reality check, there was our first view of Table Mountain.
The enormity of what followed is still incomprehensible to me today. The ocean was like a schizophrenic giant. The swell was enormous, both on the way out and on the return and coming from the side. It would hit us, pick us up and we would roll off the other side of it. We eventually resorted to some zig-zagging to avoid the discomfort which didn’t make the ride any less turbulent. A shark was sighted and in the unwritten law of paddlers, not acknowledged or spoken of until many hours later. Dolphins and seals (the latter a novelty for us from KZN) did not get much attention because I could barely look left or right, or reach for my snacks or even the end of my hydration pipe.
Survival Yoga
The conditions on the one side of the island were indescribable. I swore at the island for being there and literally gave myself a talking to out loud which greatly amused Dave. I even tried fake smiling because psychology says that this simple act can reduce stress. It did not work. I asked Dave to sing to distract me and then shouted at Dave for singing. I also told Dave a few times that I was scared. I eventually gave up on this too- he didn’t seem to listen. Thankfully he did listen to my not so polite request to press the right pedal and take a wide around the island- I did not want to be anywhere near the point at which the monstrous swell was turning into waves.
The Last Six Kilometres
I couldn’t wait to leave the precincts of the island and be in the open ocean crossing again because at least if we fell out there we wouldn’t land on the rocks. Falling out wasn’t an option- the water was freezing. The field had spread out a lot by this stage and the indication we had that we weren’t alone was when we crested a swell at the same time as another ski. It didn’t help that they only support boats we saw were already laden with rescued paddlers and skis and putting distance between us and them. I wanted them near!
As we neared the 24km mark (with 6.5km left to go due to our sightseeing line around the island) time froze and we didn’t seem to be moving. I started getting cold but was still feeling strong. I remember looking up at Table Mountain and having some time to finally breathe, I finally came back into my body. I was doing this thing.
I had time to appreciate the incredible community of paddlers, family and friends that I have in my life. I was acutely aware of them watching our progress on SafeTrax the whole way. In that moment I felt truly humbled, not just by the ocean but by the messages of support that started weeks before the race and the words of advice and love that rang in my ears in those last few kilometers.
In that moment I felt truly humbled, not just by the ocean but by the messages of support that started weeks before the race and the words of advice and love that rang in my ears in those last few kilometers.
Amanda Seidler
The Finish
Unexpectedly seeing two dear friends all the way from Durban waving and cheering us in at the end finished me off and I unashamedly put my paddle down for the first time in over 3 hours and cried.
27 years. 27 Kms (ok 30.5). 27 April 2026. I paddled around Robben Island.
