Martin Vinje, Field Productions ©

Calm in the Chaos

A life on the water. Whitewater kayaker Mariann Sæther on freedom, dreams, and why running Aldeyjarfoss is not the most important part of her story.

by Paula Flach

Mariann Sæther was born in Lillehammer, Norway, in 1980. A two-time extreme kayaking world champion, winning the title in 2015 and 2019, she is the mother of Benjamin and Saga. Her kayak has taken her to more than 50 countries, but Patagonia captured her heart. She fell so deeply in love with the wilderness along the Futaleufú River that she bought a piece of land there and built a cabin.

Mariann, you are one of the world’s most renowned whitewater kayakers. Do you remember the first time you sat in a kayak?

I began kayaking when I was 15. At the time, I had just started dating a kayaker who helped run our local club. During the winter, the club held indoor training sessions at a small swimming pool in Sjoa. Our very first date was at that pool; he tried to teach me to roll a kayak. I failed miserably, but I quickly fell in love with him—and with kayaking. What fascinated me most was that I was not immediately good at it. I found that challenge incredibly exciting, and so began my kayaking journey.

Whitewater kayaking is a high-risk sport. River rapids are unpredictable, demanding, and difficult to control. What draws you to it?

Whitewater kayaking is an extreme sport, but what has always fascinated me is the search for calm in the chaos. Every rapid is different, and my goal has always been to find my own line through it. Because the environment is so dynamic and demanding, it is incredibly easy to be fully present. There is no room to think about the past or the future—you are simply in the flow. Over the years, I have half-jokingly said that kayaking is my form of meditation, but that is exactly how it feels.

Kayakers like Mariann don't just live "on the edge"—they also love to paddle right over it.

The river will always be part of my life, but it doesn’t define who I am.

In the film, you say your parents encouraged you to follow your dreams, partly because your mother never had that freedom. What does freedom mean to you, in the way you have chosen to live?

To me, freedom has always meant building a life in which I can follow my dreams—whatever they may be. I have never believed that adhering to what society considers the “normal” path guarantees security. It actually feels more limiting to me. I have always wanted to live beyond those boundaries and explore what life has to offer. One of the greatest gifts my parents gave me was never standing in the way of my curiosity or ambitions. Whether it was school, sports, travel, or another path through life, they always encouraged me to find my own way.

You’ve won multiple world championships and competed at the highest level for years. After paddling rivers all over the world, what dreams and goals are still ahead?

I have been fortunate to win a few world championship titles and many other competitions over the years. Of course, I have lost plenty, too, and that is just as much a part of the journey. Looking back, my second world championship title probably means the most because I won it after my first child was born. It was important to prove to myself that becoming a mother did not mean I was no longer an athlete or that I had to give up pursuing big goals. There are still rivers I would like to paddle—the Stikine in North America, for example—and I would love to spend time on the Zambezi again. But I am not in a hurry. What excites me most now is experiencing the river with my family. I want my children to grow up with rivers as a natural part of their lives. Kayaking has given me more than I could ever have imagined. It has allowed me to follow my dreams, travel the world, challenge myself, and become the person I am today. The river will always be part of my life, but it doesn’t define who I am. Instead, it has become a place I simply love returning to again and again.

It was important to prove to myself that becoming a mother did not mean I was no longer an athlete.

What do you hope people take away from I Follow Rivers?

More than anything, I hope people see the film and feel inspired. At the same time, I want them to understand that an unconventional life—and combining elite athletics with family life—does not come without friction. There are sacrifices, difficult decisions, and times when everything feels like a balancing act. If I could change one thing about the film, I would have it focus less on Aldeyjarfoss. Running that waterfall was undoubtedly a major goal, but it is only one chapter of my life. Even as a woman with a family, you can consciously choose your own path and build a life around your dreams. To me, that is a much bigger story than whether or not I paddled a
65-foot waterfall.

The theme running through this year’s EOFT program is “Hold on to your dream.” What has life taught you about dreams?

Aldeyjarfoss had been a dream of mine since the first time I stood at the edge of the waterfall. But it was never a dream I felt I absolutely had to fulfill. I have always believed this: Age is not a limitation. Family is not a limitation. Becoming a mother is not a limitation. I am still me, and my dreams still belong to me. At the same time, I have learned that it is okay to let some dreams go. I once dreamed of becoming an Olympic slalom kayaker, but eventually I set that dream aside to make room for new ones. That is exactly what happened with paragliding over the past few years. What I love most is bivouac flying. You pack your paraglider, tent, and sleeping bag, fly from mountain to mountain, and sleep wherever you land at the end of the day. Last spring, Ron and I took our first bivouac flying trip together in the Alps, and it was incredible. That sense of freedom—not knowing exactly where you will sleep that night—is exactly what I love. What makes me happiest is that we still share these adventures. We have built a life in which we keep discovering new passions side by side, and that feels incredibly special.

Thank you for talking with us, Mariann!

Aldeyjarfoss

At Aldeyjarfoss in the Icelandic Highlands, the Skjálfandafljót River plunges about 65 feet between dramatic black basalt cliffs. The waterfall’s spectacular beauty makes it irresistible to extreme kayakers. And while Aldeyjarfoss may be hard to pronounce, it’s a whole lot harder to kayak!

Mariann was just 21 when she first stood at Aldeyjarfoss in 2001. She’s been dreaming of returning ever since.