2026 Outdoor Photo Story Competition Winners
1st Place: Make Packrafting Great Again
Author: Daniel Cunningham
“Soft shell, hard core!”
A phrase whispered on the wind, carrying with it a promise, and a warning.
Even the most seasoned outdoor professionals feel it crawl up their spine.
“Oh god, they’re here.”
Packrafters begin their migration. They waltz up remote trails, bright boats lashed tight, as some of New Zealand’s most scenic tracks are reduced to mere foreplay, footnotes on the way to something wetter, wilder.
A desperate hunger for whitewater drives them onward.
Treacherous corridors of primal beauty and aquatic mayhem, once reserved for only the most foolhardy kayakers, now lie exposed. Vulnerable. Waiting.
They can hold us back no longer.
Every waterway is open to exploration. Rivers once dismissed as too shallow, too tight, too inaccessible are finally ready to be… taken. Gone down with intent, commitment, and an unashamed thirst for what lies around the next bend.
“They are coming”
By the time the packs hit the gravel bar, there’s no more pretending this is just another trip:
Drybags are packed deep and sealed carefully,
Everything you care about goes inside,
Once it’s closed, there’s no easy access,
Commitment has been made.
Valves are unscrewed slowly, deliberately,
Air is introduced with care,
Steady pressure, no rush…
Boats firm up beneath practiced hands, skins smoothing out as wrinkles disappear. Some prefer them stiff. Others leave a little give. Personal choice,
No judgement here.
Straps are threaded.
Cinched,
Re-checked,
Thigh straps pulled tight enough to feel connected, but not so tight you can’t breathe. A delicate balance, learned only through experience…
and the occasional regret.
Paddles slot together with a satisfying click,
Feather angles adjusted just right,
You don’t want surprises once you’re in.
“The river awaits.”
It murmurs at first,
Inviting,
Playful,
Sliding around ankles as boats are eased in gently. Entry is always awkward,
Slippery,
Someone always loses their footing, laughter helps. So does confidence.
Then comes the moment.
You straddle the boat.
Lower yourself in, settle, adjust.
Wiggle until everything sits where it should.
“Ah. There it is.”
The first strokes are tentative, exploratory.
Testing responsiveness.
Feeling how the hull reacts beneath you.
But it doesn’t take long before hesitation gives way to trust.
The current takes hold.
Water rushes past, pressing irresistibly against the soft shell, reminding you why you’re here.
Each bend offers something new: tight squeezes, sudden drops, long sustained pushes that demand endurance and control.
There is no turning back now,
No pulling out early,
Once you’re committed, you’re committed.
And when it’s finally over:
boats scraped, bodies spent, gear damp and satisfied,
You haul everything onto the bank and just sit there for a moment.
Silent. Smiling.
The river has been run,
The gear has performed,
The hunger, for now, is quiet.
Until next time…
“Soft shell, hard core.”
2nd Place: No Adventure Too Small
Author: Penzy Dinsdale
When the weather says no to the bigger adventures as at times it’s wont to do, we have some choices to make. Do we go anyway risking life and limb high on mountain tops as storms screams around us and avalanches pour down threatening to tear us from out precarious perch? Helpless indeed we can be in the mountains, small and ill-equipped for the extremes. Or do we stay home, and lament the adventure not done from the comforts of a house where we cannot see what great battle rages in the mountains?
This was the debate that awaited Liv and I on our first ski touring trip together. In this modern world we’d become friends online first, bought together by shared interested of adventure and a shared profession of medicine. We’d just taken the step to move our friendship from the internet to the real world and as I waited to pick up someone, I knew but did not know at the airport, I was nervous. What if I didn’t live up to the adventure, I wasn’t feeling very fit currently, what if I couldn’t keep up and what if I let her down on her precious week of leave. The then the bigger disaster loomed, the weather. What if we couldn’t adventure at all?
But then after all, there is a third option for when the weather says no, you simply adjust the adventure to fit. You let the wild winds and driving sleet turn a valley where you once wander leisurely, lying down to soak in the sun and swim in the river, into a fight to make progress in the wind and the fight to reach shelter before your body gives in to the cold being driven into your bones. You marvel at how wild a place a valley that has been the start of so many great adventures can be in the full grip of the southerly. You see the river rage and watch the trees surrender to the wind. The snow falls in a blizzard on the summits and though you cannot hear your new friend speak over the scream of wind in ear and hood, you imagine the yet greater wilder roar of avalanches tearing from the mountains surrounding you.
Stumbling soaked and cold into a new hut at an old place you are glad to have made the time to come here, somewhere you otherwise would pass by onto further adventures, but usually don’t get to stay. The fire is warm and skis are stacked in the door way, as we are not the only ones whose adventure has changed and this is a good a spot as any to appreciate the storm. As we dry ourselves by the fire, start the first of many cups of tea and get to know our fellow would be adventurers we glance continually out the large windows and are glad we came. Glad to be spending the night here tucked into this valley with front frow seats to the battle raging over the mountain tops.
Over the whistling of the wind, you hear something, a piercing calling cry, one that usually echo’s on the high mountains, signalling entertainment and if you’re not careful the destruction of items of gear. Three bedraggled juvenile kea have sought shelter from the storm too, albeit in the trees behind the hut. You spend some time with them, watching their antics, the way the water droplets pool off their feathers down their backs, but have somehow been absorbed on their heads, giving them wet mohawks to match their teenage energy. You stand and watch and enjoy until even under the tree the wind and rain find you and drive you back into the warmth of the hut.
The better part of two days is spent watching the storm in the valley from the comfort of sleeping bags by the large windows, cards are played, books are read, the fire is tended and tea is drunk. Such is the simple comfort of a hut. Eventually though the storm begins to less its grip upon the valley, the snow retreats higher up the trees, the sun peeks through and the puddles still enough to reflect the glory around them. The time has come to leave this cosy adventure behind, shoulder packs and head out, on to the next adventure, exploring those distant mountains with their fresh glorious white cloaks. As you wander you reflect, not adventure is too small, all are precious experiences.
3rd Place: Kea on Gertrude
Author: Michael Beckmann
The excitement started right in the car park, being greeted by a group of kea happily chewing away on cars — or even my camera, if they got the chance.
Kea are everywhere in Fiordland National Park. And so are the steep, high rock faces. Not many places in the country make it feel this real — feeling so small among such big mountains.
Walking through the valley floor, it was those faces we were drawn to. A few kilometres in, the flat valley floor gradually turns into a climb that leads you to the saddle. This 600-metre ascent navigates through bluffs, snow slopes, and slippery slabs.
The view starts to change within the first few metres of climbing. New gullies appear, the first peaks come into view, and mountain lakes reveal themselves. Just wait until you reach the saddle, where you’re rewarded with a vast view of what Fiordland National Park has to offer.
But we weren’t the only ones enjoying our time up here. At the top, kea started appearing. What took us two hours of walking could have been just a few minutes of flying for them. The kea didn’t seem impressed by the view, though — all they did was play, or perhaps tease, in these grand mountains.
It was a special moment to be able to spend and share time here. For the kea, it must feel like this is their playground — and in many ways, it feels the same to us.
