Exploring new terrain need not be the realm of high-performing athletes. We can all get amongst it. 

More often than not, the trips that get publicised are ‘firsts’ – adventurers exploring new places and doing things not done before. They’re the ones where things go wrong, where people push the limits and succeed against all odds.

I grew up watching such endeavours with awe. I remember when Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson became the first to free-climb the Dawn Wall; when Emily Harrington became the first woman to free-climb Golden Gate. I looked up to these athletes as my idols. I wanted to be like them one day.

Unfortunately, I have never been a natural athlete. As a teenager, I had coaches and followed training plans. As an adult, I have invested time in the hills and on rivers. But I have yet to achieve ‘greatness’. 

You might think: well, that’s that, Hazel will have to give up her aspirations of doing the trips she’s always dreamed of. 

However, if there’s one thing I have going for me, it’s my unwillingness to quit. With time, I realised I could still do great trips, push my own boundaries and explore the unexplored without needing to perform at the sharp end – or compare performances with those at the top.

Last spring, I set out in my friend’s sea kayak across Lake Te Anau with five days’ food, a good pair of shoes and a packraft. 

Hours spent looking at topo maps had revealed a waterway – Worsley Stream – with whitewater potential. As far as I could tell, it had never been explored by boat.

I didn’t know about this valley, but I perused maps and talked to people who had worked in the area. I found no-one who knew about the white water of Worsley Stream. 

I was optimistic it might be a first descent. (If I’d later find out it hadn’t been, that would be okay; it would still be a first for me.) 

The first two days involved paddling into a headwind up the lake, but when I got to Worsley, it was everything I had hoped for. The shape of the valley suggested it was wide enough to trap water, steep enough to make rapids, but not so steep that it would be beyond my abilities. And it was breathtakingly beautiful.

For the first half-day I worked my way up the river following a mix of trapping and game trails, with several crossings to keep it exciting. 

Whenever I paddle a new section I am initially nervous. But from my scouting, I knew there was nothing I couldn’t comfortably handle. And there was almost  always the option of portage should I have second thoughts about any rapids.

In my experience, paddling a new river feels a lot like a jigsaw. You’re trying to get all the pieces to line up – rapids, portages, conditions, skill levels. Worsley easily pieced itself together.

Most of the rapids were grade 2+ with a few nasty pieces of wood that were not super obvious without scouting.

The crux rapid was a grade harder. It began with a small drop into a retentive hydraulic feature. Should you make the move well, the reward would be an enjoyable class 2–3 boulder garden. If you missed the move things would get a lot more dangerous: some of the water fed into a sieve – a pile of rocks capable of trapping a swimmer underwater. 

After some careful decision-making I pushed off to paddle the rapid. My line went as I had envisioned, and I celebrated whooping loudly at the bottom. The two-and-a-half days of work to get there had been worth it – if anything, they made the paddle even more enjoyable. I had earned this.

I’ve learned that being able to perform at the top end is not a prerequisite for exploratory trips or expeditions. If you feel limited believing only the best athletes can go off the beaten track, I encourage you to dream some dreams, make some plans and get out amongst it.