I think it would be fair to say that my whitewater journey properly started in 2025. I already had a lot of technical skills from slalom, and in New Zealand got a taste of the advantage it would give me on whitewater. After Oscar and I broke up, I went on something of a mission to figure out what I wanted from life. This led me to Italy, Austria and finally Norway. I was looking for a mixture of community and sport - and I found both in whitewater kayaking.
Norway was a baptism of fire. I'd never really done serious whitewater, and all of a sudden I was following a crew far more able and experienced than me. Everyone was so kind and supportive, and the experience was incredible. But it was also a huge blur of intensity, adrenaline, and surviving rather than doing nice lines. I left feeling more certain of what I wanted, and a big part of that is to not just paddle - but paddle well.
Kayaking in Galicia and Portugal has felt like a graduation of sorts. Michal and I paddled together in Scotland and Czechia, and I started to work as part of a crew rather than just being a passenger. His incredible skill at water reading, and patience as my ability shifts, has meant that while we have pushed my comfort zone, in Spain I paddled the widest range of difficulty and styles of river that I've ever experienced.
Norway was a baptism of fire. I'd never really done serious whitewater, and all of a sudden I was following a crew far more able and experienced than me. Everyone was so kind and supportive, and the experience was incredible. But it was also a huge blur of intensity, adrenaline, and surviving rather than doing nice lines. I left feeling more certain of what I wanted, and a big part of that is to not just paddle - but paddle well.
Kayaking in Galicia and Portugal has felt like a graduation of sorts. Michal and I paddled together in Scotland and Czechia, and I started to work as part of a crew rather than just being a passenger. His incredible skill at water reading, and patience as my ability shifts, has meant that while we have pushed my comfort zone, in Spain I paddled the widest range of difficulty and styles of river that I've ever experienced.
Paddling in Portugal started with an early exit from the Cavado.
Our first river was the most beautiful canyon I have ever seen. Sweeping bedrock and clean walls create the Cavado, nicknamed "aqua park". We cruised through the first section, arriving at the "portage" rapid. After admiring how steep it was and taking a very hard left line, we decided to seal launch to re-enter the river below the rapid. It was a long, beautiful slide into the water, with one small step-down in the middle. I had perfect angle (courtesy of Michal), beautiful speed, and promptly compressed my back on the step-down by reacting in a very slalom way to a drop - to sit very upright, with my bodyweight slightly back. This was a hard learning curve, as the exit from the canyon took several hours and possibly several years off Michal's life.
Lesson 1: When in doubt, pack forwards.
The next few days were spent with me recovering, and Michal paddling with Mike Krutyanski, an expedition paddler and guide who is basically a walking encyclopaedia of whitewater runs all over the world. They paddled a high water Cabreiro, which sounded wild. The next day, Michal and I paddled the Moura, a beautiful little read and run river that had very little impacts and was super nice for my back. As I was still running on a schedule of one-day-on-off, the boys decided to run high-water Tea Gorge. A French paddler called Tom, who was also part of the Cabreiro crew, said that if he ever sees Michal and Mike at the put in, he won’t get on the water, because it’s going to be a high-water stout. Tea gorge was a record highest flow for the crew, and they had a great day again.
Next, we went to the river Deza. I was stoked to find the river suited me very well, and I was able to read everything from the water. We camped at the take out, and spent the next day lapping the main section. I'm starting to get used to carrying these bigger, heavier boats, and it was epic to start looking for the best lines rather than just coping and relying on someone else's beta.
We spent some time waiting for the right flow on Rio Oitavén - and still got it wrong, with pretty low flow. I’ve never paddled a river with so many horizon lines, and the entire first section of the canyon is must run - which means you can't really walk around rapids. It's very committing, and it took a lot of mental work - it's a classic run in the area, and still quite steep whitewater for me. I wasn't super stoked about my paddling, because I felt there was so much going on that I wasn’t able to concentrate on any one single thing throughout the entire run. However it was extremely confidence inspiring to be able to make mistakes, and fix them - even though Michal did get a bit upset about how hard I was “moving rocks” in the river (out of sheer panic, paddling straight over a lot of them). I loved the drop combinations, and even the 6.5km shuttle run was epic.
We had a weird run on the Deva. It was quite a nice chill class 2/3, but had absolutely shit tons of trees clogging everything. Coming from racing, my perception of "hazard" is profoundly flawed - I am far more scared of a 2m drop than a tree blocking the river from side to side. Only one of those is going to kill you, and I am happy for once not to learn this lesson the hard way.
Lesson 2: Respect trees.
Throughout Spain and Portugal, I had a couple of reality checks. I had to adjust my expectations from just running rapids, to enjoying the extended experience - the exploration and hardship as well as the classically fun stuff. For a couple of rivers I managed to really wind myself up and get in a bad headspace before even getting on the water, which meant I was paddling badly and having to do a lot of mental work. After a sort of crescendo, where I panicked about just the suggestion of a river, Michal asked me to relax. Amazingly, I did. There's more work to do, but remembering to appreciate each step towards a bigger goal is a long way towards paddling fearlessly.
I think one of my favourite rivers ever is the Louvado, a run we did quite close to the end of our Spanish/Portuguese leg. It's quite continuous class 4, especially with the slightly higher level that we had. Shortly after deciding to relax, I was tested by read-and-running down this beautiful river. I had some epic lines, and some deeply inelegant plugs. Finally, regardless of the lines - I felt relaxed, happy, and more like myself paddling aggressively.
Our last river was the Tamega. Michal ran a bit of an epic shuttle, 7km of ascent and winding tarmac. We were worried for most of the run that it would be trash because it was so flooded - we think around 300-400 cumecs of water. Pretty much everything was totally washed out, until we reached the final rapid of the section which turned out was entirely worth the previous 7.5km of flat slogging. An absolutely monster wave train led into huge boils. It was a truly epic river to finish our time in Spain and Portugal.
On the drive south we stopped in Nazare. Somehow, after three weeks of rain, we arrived at the famous coastal place exactly in time for dry weather, an epic sunset and one of the most impressive wave sets I've ever seen.
All photos courtesy of Michal Kuthan
Lesson 1: When in doubt, pack forwards.
The next few days were spent with me recovering, and Michal paddling with Mike Krutyanski, an expedition paddler and guide who is basically a walking encyclopaedia of whitewater runs all over the world. They paddled a high water Cabreiro, which sounded wild. The next day, Michal and I paddled the Moura, a beautiful little read and run river that had very little impacts and was super nice for my back. As I was still running on a schedule of one-day-on-off, the boys decided to run high-water Tea Gorge. A French paddler called Tom, who was also part of the Cabreiro crew, said that if he ever sees Michal and Mike at the put in, he won’t get on the water, because it’s going to be a high-water stout. Tea gorge was a record highest flow for the crew, and they had a great day again.
Next, we went to the river Deza. I was stoked to find the river suited me very well, and I was able to read everything from the water. We camped at the take out, and spent the next day lapping the main section. I'm starting to get used to carrying these bigger, heavier boats, and it was epic to start looking for the best lines rather than just coping and relying on someone else's beta.
We spent some time waiting for the right flow on Rio Oitavén - and still got it wrong, with pretty low flow. I’ve never paddled a river with so many horizon lines, and the entire first section of the canyon is must run - which means you can't really walk around rapids. It's very committing, and it took a lot of mental work - it's a classic run in the area, and still quite steep whitewater for me. I wasn't super stoked about my paddling, because I felt there was so much going on that I wasn’t able to concentrate on any one single thing throughout the entire run. However it was extremely confidence inspiring to be able to make mistakes, and fix them - even though Michal did get a bit upset about how hard I was “moving rocks” in the river (out of sheer panic, paddling straight over a lot of them). I loved the drop combinations, and even the 6.5km shuttle run was epic.
We had a weird run on the Deva. It was quite a nice chill class 2/3, but had absolutely shit tons of trees clogging everything. Coming from racing, my perception of "hazard" is profoundly flawed - I am far more scared of a 2m drop than a tree blocking the river from side to side. Only one of those is going to kill you, and I am happy for once not to learn this lesson the hard way.
Lesson 2: Respect trees.
Throughout Spain and Portugal, I had a couple of reality checks. I had to adjust my expectations from just running rapids, to enjoying the extended experience - the exploration and hardship as well as the classically fun stuff. For a couple of rivers I managed to really wind myself up and get in a bad headspace before even getting on the water, which meant I was paddling badly and having to do a lot of mental work. After a sort of crescendo, where I panicked about just the suggestion of a river, Michal asked me to relax. Amazingly, I did. There's more work to do, but remembering to appreciate each step towards a bigger goal is a long way towards paddling fearlessly.
I think one of my favourite rivers ever is the Louvado, a run we did quite close to the end of our Spanish/Portuguese leg. It's quite continuous class 4, especially with the slightly higher level that we had. Shortly after deciding to relax, I was tested by read-and-running down this beautiful river. I had some epic lines, and some deeply inelegant plugs. Finally, regardless of the lines - I felt relaxed, happy, and more like myself paddling aggressively.
Our last river was the Tamega. Michal ran a bit of an epic shuttle, 7km of ascent and winding tarmac. We were worried for most of the run that it would be trash because it was so flooded - we think around 300-400 cumecs of water. Pretty much everything was totally washed out, until we reached the final rapid of the section which turned out was entirely worth the previous 7.5km of flat slogging. An absolutely monster wave train led into huge boils. It was a truly epic river to finish our time in Spain and Portugal.
On the drive south we stopped in Nazare. Somehow, after three weeks of rain, we arrived at the famous coastal place exactly in time for dry weather, an epic sunset and one of the most impressive wave sets I've ever seen.
All photos courtesy of Michal Kuthan
