In our April Paddler Spotlight, we caught up with Kirstie Macmillan, a passionate sea and white water kayaker who has been paddling for 14 years.
Last year, Kirstie was diagnosed with autism, and she kindly shared her journey and experiences with us. Despite the challenges, paddling remains an integral part of Kirstie’s life, providing her with joy, freedom, and a sense of belonging.
Kirstie shares her passion for marine and river environments with others at Border Kayak and Canoe Club and Tynemouth Canoe Club. She has led many river and sea trips for her club including a week on Skye, an expedition around the Isle of Bute and numerous local day trips in North-East England and the Scottish Borders.
Autistic River – Words and photos by Kirstie Macmillan
I'm driving along the A69, west from Newcastle, enroute to Hexham. We're meeting at 10:30 and Google Maps tells me my arrival time is 10:41. I'm late again. I'm often late for kayaking, even though it's something which I intensely enjoy. I'd slept through my alarm after a poor night’s sleep, tossing and turning, enduring lucid dreams and rehearsing a hundred different versions of how the day may go. There was still some uncertainty as to which river and which section we were going to paddle. Just 3 miles from Hexham, I considered doing a U-turn, giving up on the day and heading home. But I continued on my route feeling numb, physically shaking and preparing a mask to hide and appear to be calm and be kind to my paddling friends.
Arriving at Hexham, there's big smiles and welcomes. All at once, the tumultuous musings in my brain and tension in my body subside. I'm still tired, fumbling through my kit and struggling through conversations, but I'm relatively comfortable and excited to be going paddling with trusted friends. I feel most comfortable paddling with people who have a respect for the rivers and sea; their power, their beauty and their wildlife. I also feel most comfortable around people who are positive role models for me, who are accepting of my intense interests and observational skills, and who can facilitate a day on the water where I can be my true, authentic, autistic self.
An autism diagnosis was equally liberating and devastating. The winter that followed was a confused mess of relief and understanding, mixed with deep anger and anxiety about my identity and my future. The winter was also filled with lots of white water kayaking including leading novice trips with my local clubs and some harder grade 3/4 days to test my skills. Some days were more physically challenging and some were more mentally challenging. Indeed, I risked sensory and social overload after the Christmas period with worsening symptoms reminding me that rest and social space is vital too, even when the water levels are compellingly good!
Back at Hexham, we decided to paddle the River Allen, a grade 3/4 Northumbrian classic. It was my 3rd time on the river, the level was low and the flow was slow enough to enjoy every inch of the beautiful Staward Gorge. The experience was intense, the winter light drifting through the remnant autumn leaves, the deep greens of the evergreen trees and the echoing sounds of the water as it weaved through a puzzle of boulders. We passed a rather comical pair of farm ducks who watched our flotilla drift past with their beady, confused eyes. Ahead, a goosander is bobbing its way down the next rapid, opting for a tight strainer-filled line on the left, as we line up for the right.
Having had a pleasant descent of the River Allen, we start to pack up and go our separate ways. The burden of poor sleep is crushing as the adrenaline levels recede and I need to focus very closely on changing into dry clothes and safely loading my boat. It feels like a monumental mental task, even though it's simple and I've done it a hundred times before. Much of the drive home is spent contemplating whether or not I expressed enough gratitude to everyone for a fun and safe day on the river. Did I say the right things? Did it mean enough to them? Will they think that I wasn’t earnest because of the lack of eye contact?
The remainder of the drive is spent listening to the same songs on repeat, singing every word with gusto and passion! It distracts from the social anxiety hangover, the smell of “river-hair”, overrides the spiral of overthinking, and allows me to relax in my own quirky company.
Autism has had a direct impact upon all aspects of my life. The way my brain processes and responds to the world around me brings me both deep sadness and powerful joy. Autistic traits can fluctuate quickly depending on routines, social interactions, sleep quality and levels or longevity of stress. If my watch is missing from my buoyancy aid, it can detract from and destroy an otherwise brilliant day on the water. A single rock in a rapid can become a point of hyper-focus, distorting the bigger picture. Meanwhile, the sight of two otters playing together can make my cry – it's just overwhelmingly beautiful and I can't find enough superlatives! It can be frustrating at times, with eroding executive functions; being able to do something one day, and not the next.
Whilst I continue to develop my white water kayaking skills, I'm also on a journey of self-discovery, which is uncomfortable, confusing and complicated, just like a difficult white water rapid! However, understanding autism takes its power away. It's a rocky ride to make sense of a world standardised on neurotypical ways of thinking. Knowledge is power and the more we educate ourselves, the more we can help neurodivergents to thrive in our paddling community and beyond.
Thanks to Kirstie for sharing her story with us. You can follow Kirstie's paddling adventures over on Instagram here.
We recently teamed up with Neurodiverse Sport for our neurodiversity mini-series. In the series you can learn more about neurodiversity and how you can help create neuroinclusive paddling environments. Find our free resources here.