Sacrifices in pursuit of a dream

Kiwi stories of hardship and glory It costs roughly $4 million to fund an Olympic medalwinning athlete. Canoe slalom paddler Callum Gilbert will see barely a cent of that, but he’s still striving to win gold. Words: Andrea Vance. Photos: Iain McGregor

Callum Gilbert comes splashing down the raging Kaituna River, bobbing and twisting in the roiling water.

He negotiates the churning rapids, eddies and rocks, pivoting his canoe aswhite water thunders over and around him.

Gilbert appears to be halfman, half-canoe. The featherweight boat is an extension of his torso, as his body winds and swivels against the power of the surging water.

It looks like he’s only using his upper body, but the slalom canoeist is powerfully driving his legs through every stroke, pulling his weight through the water and making hairpin turns.

As the canoe is wrenched in all directions, water splashing in his face, Gilbert is instinctively making split-second calculations, each time his paddle dips into the frothy moil.

‘‘There’s an incredible number of sensations,’’ he says. ‘‘ You have the water acting against the boat and the paddle.

‘‘You’re trying to counteract it, but at the same time manipulate it to go where you want to go without really trying to overpower it. Because that doesn’t work. A lot of the time, the water is just too powerful for you.’’

Canoe slalom is a race against the clock, with competitors pitting themselves against powerful whitewater currents.

Over a 300m course, racers slide and power through up to 25 pole gates, strung out over a winding route and suspended just over 2metres above the rapids.

Some require a paddle to turn against the current: green gates must be approached downstream, red is for upstream.

The slightest contact with the swaying poles incurs penalty points: a touch costs five seconds, missing a gate entirely earns 50 seconds.

It’s a precision sport, performed while half-submerged in heavy water at breakneck speed. And Gilbert is one of the country’s best paddlers.

‘‘It is incredible when you are racing down the rapids and you’ve got these poles coming towards you.

‘‘You feel like you’re going a millionmiles an hour and everything’s happening so quickly, but it’s so reactive and instinctual that it’s just an incredible feeling.

‘‘When you nail something, you can feel the efficiency and the speed, and it’s like gliding.

‘‘That’s what we all chase, all the time, in every race.’’

Gilbert, 24, has been chasing an Olympic dream for half his life. In March, he was selected for the New Zealand Team for Tokyo 2020.

‘‘As a kid, I always sort of aspired to be an Olympian and I thought it was the dream of every child, but maybe it wasn’t.’’

Aged 12, he took an afterschool paddling class at Tauranga Boys’ College, and was picked to compete in the nationals in 2009.

‘‘I absolutely loved it. I had a ball and from there Iwas hooked. As I progressed through the competitions, I realised there was a potential future for me in the sport.’’

A trip to Europe in 2013 ‘‘really openedmy eyes to the possibility that I could make something of myself’’.

He just missed out on qualifying for the 2016 Rio Olympic Games.

‘‘I actually ended up getting a lot closer than I thought – it came down to the last race.

‘‘That was when I realised I had a shot at this. So I decided, in four years’ time, I wanted to be on the other side of the competition, being the one that peoplewere trying to take the spot away from, rather than trying to take the spot.’’

Nearly three years ago, Gilbert, who has a degree in computer science, gave up his job as a software engineer to concentrate on training.

‘‘They allowed me to have a lot of time off for paddling, do a bit of work from overseas and from home, and were supersupportive there.

‘‘But ultimately, I felt as though I probably wasn’t giving quite enough to the job or to my paddling, and decided to resign.’’

The move paid off and in the 2019 ICF World Championship Tour he made it to three of the four semifinals, finishing fifth overall. It was the best Kiwi male finish in aWorld Cup K1 (single) event.

Qualification for Tokyo came down to the wire in late February, at the Australian Open in Penrith. The previous race, in Auckland, had almost put him out of contention.

‘‘In Australia, the things that needed to happen happened, and it came down to me and one other guy [Otago’s Finn Butcher] in a head-to-head shootout on the last day. Whoever won that run was going to the Olympic Games. It was a lot of pressure and a lot of stress.

‘‘The emotions are overwhelming. You’re trying to relax and slow down and get yourself into the right state of mind to really perform your best.’’

Gilbert was the first to race and had a ‘‘solid’’ run. ‘‘Just a couple of little mistakes and no touches. But I knew the other guy was really fast.

‘‘And just to add to everything, the timing system was not working, so when I finished I didn’t actually know what my time was.

‘‘So, then we had this really long, extremely stressful wait. When the results came out, it was incredible, it just felt like a weight lifted. It took a long time to sink in.’’

Gilbert was just coming to grips with his selection when New Zealand went into lockdown, onMarch 25. In May, the Games were postponed, for a year. ‘‘It’s almost been a blessing in disguise. I’m young, I’m on the upside ofmy career. So having a whole another year to prepare for the Olympics is actually not a bad thing at all.’’

Gilbert isolated in Okere Falls, which hugs the shores of Lake Rotoiti, in the Bay of Plenty. The lake flows into the Kaituna River.

He lives in a bach, owned by his parents Claire, 63, and Roger, 74, surrounded by native bush and open to the lakefront.

Every morning, before dawn, he pads barefoot across the damp lawn to a jetty, balancing a canoe on his shoulder.

In the pale early light, he languidly paddles across to Manupirua Springs, to soothe and soak tired muscles in hot pools.

‘‘It’s a recovery paddle there and back. I’ll have some breakfast, do some rolling and stretching exercises. And then I get into my key training session around 10.30 or 11 o’clock. Some days I have another session in the afternoon.’’

To make ends meet, Gilbert takes on contracting projects,

which he juggles with training. ‘‘Sometimes, it’s really nice to have something else to do.’’

But the costs of competing – and spending much of the year in Europe – stretch his budget.

The bach is rent-free, but his food bills top $200 aweek.

A new kayak costs upwards of $5000 and must be replaced at least once a year. And the cost of flying with a boat is high.

‘‘You want to have the best equipment to give yourself the best chance, especially when you’re talking about margins of .01 seconds.

‘‘I missed out on a final at a World Cup last year by .01 of a second. You’re not wanting to hold yourself back by having old equipment.

‘‘It’s definitely an uncomfortable part of being an athlete. It’s sort of assumed that if you’re training full time, you’re a professional athlete, that you’re being paid and covering all of your costs.

‘‘But the more athletes you speak to, the more you realise that until you’re at the top, you’re not able to cover your costs.’’

He receives a scholarship from the International Olympic Committee, which is $600 a month and runs until the end of the Games, and has won other bursaries through prizes.

‘‘We’re never able to completely cover our costs. And I need the support of my parents to be able to do what I need to do.

‘‘You just have to accept that you do need a bit of charity to get yourself to the high level.

‘‘I’ve been really fortunate that my parents are in a position that they can help. But, at some point, Iwould like to stop being a burden and I doworry about the future.’’

Heworries that the economic crisis precipitated by Covid19 will lead to more financial strain.

‘‘We’re getting more support

from High Performance Sport New Zealand and that’s really helping our system to grow.

‘‘But a lot of things are up in the air after the Olympics, especially because High Performance Sport will look again at their funding structures, and I imagine there’s going to be some funding cuts there.

‘‘And obviously, I’ll lose my Olympic scholarship.

‘‘There’s a series of sort of life stages that you go through that are really important to me, like having a house and a family, and I do definitely worry about when or if I’ll be able to meet them.’’

Gilbert has seen competitors

drop out and wonders if the funding model needs to change. ‘‘Maybe we give a little bit too much to some of the higher level athletes who at that point should be able to get more sponsorship.

‘‘It can be really hard for developing athletes who don’t have the financial backing. I have a few friends coming through the sport with me and just weren’t able to pursue it because of financial barriers. These are people with a lot of talent and drive as well, but basically an inability to pay what they needed to get to the next level.’’

Paul Macdermid, of Massey University’s School of Sport, Exercise & Nutrition, says it costs the taxpayer $3 million$4m per Olympic medal.

‘‘There are some [athletes] who get lots of help and assistance and potentially don’t require it, and some that do require it and get none at all,’’ he says.

‘‘They are just like us. If I come to work with loads of debt hanging over me, then it’s going to affect my general health, which is a big factor in sports performance.’’

For now, Gilbert is happy to make the financial sacrifices.

‘‘You can never do everything you want to do. In some form, you’re going to have to make sacrifices.

‘‘For me, they haven’t been too big. I haven’t felt like I’ve given up too many other things.

‘‘And it’s also enabled me to have a lifestyle that I’m really passionate about, and I really love, so it’s not a big problem for me.’’

Gilbert lives rent free in his parents’ Lake Rotoiti bach. But food costs him $200 a week and the costs of competing – and spending much of the year in Europe – stretch his budget.

Callum Gilbert gave up his job as a software engineer three years ago, to train fulltime. Each morning he soaks his tired muscles in the hot pools at Manupirua Springs.