Anup Gurung: the head of a generation

Some meetings can change our life.

For me, everything started with the river.

The river called me. And then, I met him.

My first Dai.

Anup Gurung.

Our first contact was no contact. He was a busy man at the counter, checking lists and taking care of payments. He barely raised an eyebrow when we talked. On the river, he displayed the agility of the monkey god as he jumped from raft to raft on class 4+ rapids and climbed rocks at high speed to seize our best moments.

And then, when he hopped on our raft like a water taxi and bluntly stated: "It has been three hours, and you guys still don’t know how to paddle!" At this moment, he had won me over: I wanted to strangle him.

But when I returned a year later, Anup, having an insane memory, still remembered me. And I remembered him too.

What I did not know then was that three hours would turn into three days. And three days would turn into years, until now. And I would not be surprised, a lifetime.

Anup had become my mentor. And like the sun watching over the clouds, he has been watching over me, ever since.

After our meeting, he would keep fulfilling his “dharma”: guiding hundreds of paddlers on the rivers of Iceland, or organizing their expeditions, and securing them on the rivers like the Dai that he always was: taking the lead, clearing the path and showing the way.

When our paths did not cross, I would stumble on him in Paris bookshops: featured and interviewed in many magazines, from the French equivalent of national geographic “Geo” to the more exclusive “Kayak session”, he had become “the” reference, leading countless aficionados of kayaking on the sinuous, if not serendipitous waters of Iceland.

In the Land of Ice and Fire, he knows every waterfall and every rapid like the lines of his hands. To make the dreams of adrenaline seekers come true, he keeps running and scouting the lines that he has spent years getting to know and to feel in himself. And sometimes, in the process of supporting others, he injures himself badly. But he keeps going, until it turns his ankle into shreds, because Anup can’t help it: he knows the river. She is Kali, our goddess, and our mother, ferocious and unforgiving. On her lap, everything can worsen in a few seconds, and as her son, he knows that we must become a single entity and move as one to be safe from her tears.

To many, Anup is a guide. But to me, Anup is a leader.

The first Nepalese to own a company in Iceland, Anup has climbed the stairs the way other Nepalese climb mountains. With sweat and perseverance, he started as a paddler, became a guide, and finally, a company owner. To the Western eye, it may not seem to be much, but to us, the symbol is strong.

On the international whitewater scene, Anup is one of the few who represent us. By forging his name and sticking to his guts in an arena that sees the river as a map or an adrenaline playground, he has left a blueprint for every Nepalese kayaker that is impossible to forget; that is to say that “if one of us can, then everybody can.”

Anup’s way of paddling is a signature of Nepal. He is the incarnation of intuitive paddling, as every stroke is flawless and one-pointed. For a simple reason. Anup paddles from the heart. And so, every move he makes is emotional: he feels the river as she is. And as the river flows, he just goes. A motto he has carefully applied personally; life being for him not necessarily a party, but a constant celebration.

“I can’t explain it to you,” he used to tell me as he described the East Glacial River. “You must trust me.” And I did.

It has been almost ten years now, but I still measure his impact. As I travel in Scandinavia, he follows me everywhere I go: other companies are inspired by his captions and marketing, young Nepalese kayakers are bold enough to expose their talents and honored to embody their culture, and my experienced Dais whisper his name with the deepest respect. Oscar Wilde and I often have a heated debate: he says that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”, while I argue that “imitation is the sincerest form of insult”. But in Anup’s footsteps, I know it simply means admiration from the younger generation that he has made prouder, fiercer, and faster.

Like the mountains which feed, clothe and carry us, the river has her share of children that she gave birth to.

Anup is the first but not the last of a generation.

Mountains have their heroes. And rivers have theirs too.

Anup Gurung is one of them.