Packraft discrimination

Last weekend a small group of Flemish and Dutch packraft enthusiasts headed to the whitewater track of Arras in Northern France for a day practicing and playing.

However, some things didn’t work out as we had hoped. Many of us didn’t yet have a lot of whitewater experience and so tipping and swimming was regularly part for some of us. A discussion with the manager followed at noon as he wanted us to pay for a 2 hours course we had asked beforehand but didn’t got at all. Soon it became clear we were nuisance in his eyes for his big raft clients on the track and he never wanted to see us again with our packrafts on his track in the future. Instead we would be obliged to rent his own kayaks. Our packrafts were non-technical boats in his eyes, only suitable as toys in a pool and not suitable for a white water track. Once again packrafters were discriminated! The discussion went on for more than one hour! Finally we managed to come to an agreement and we were able to practice again in the afternoon, be it without any support anymore of the rescuers on the shore. We didn’t bother anymore and enjoyed our time in the waves.

All pictures taken by Lucien and Peter.

North to the Cape – a thruhike through Scottish snow and water

During March and April earlier this year, I went to Scotland to hike through the northwest part of the Highlands between Fort William and Cape Wrath, the most northwesterly point of the mainland. The Cape Wrath trail was my guide, but I departed from the route many times to more than double the total distance of the official trail. The weather was typically Scottish with 33 days that counted at least a few hours of rain among the total 37 hiking days of the trip, including 7 with rain (or snow) all day long. Up to half a meter of snow fell on day 3, snow which still lasted a long time in the mountains for the remainder of the trip. Spring and more sunny days finally arrived during the last week.

It’s been a relaxed walk with a camp on the ridge of Suilven and the final hike along the coastal cliffs towards Cape Wrath (much more recommended than the official route over the inland peat if weather permitting) that have been the two main highlights of the trip. The pictures complete the story.

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Wave surfing the Amblève river

Last Friday Willem and I headed to the middle reaches of the Amblève river in the Belgian Ardennes for a day packraft trip. We originally wanted to make a multi day trip over the Ourthe river, but the huge amounts of rain caused too high water levels for a legal float on nearly all rivers in the Ardennes including the Ourthe. The Amblève river however remained an exception and was now the only decent choice we had left. No whining at all! This became the fourth run on the river for myself, the best so far with such a pompous flow. The Amblève is a nice class II river in its middle section with lots of scattered boulders in the river bed which create nice playing spots. A beautiful artificial wave surfing spot can be encountered under the bridge at Stavelot, but pay good attention to avoid the thin metal rod in the left section under the bridge. This rod could literally slash your packraft in two like a circular saw! The biggest waterfall of Belgium follows at Coo. One day I’d like to skip this portage and throw myself over this 13m fall! Hmmm, just keep on dreaming… Some impressions in the video.

A short Ecrins winter trek

Early December and I had a few days time to make a winter trekking. Not that much snow yet this year in the Alps but the weather seemed to stay splendid in the French Alps and so I decided to pay a visit to the National Park of the Ecrins. Due to the cold spell since last episode of snowfall a week earlier, snow was lingering to even the bottom of the lowest lying valleys. The south facing slopes that usually bath in the sun for most of daytime near Prapic (1550m), the mountain hamlet where I started the trip, had become snow free again but once above about 2300m a nice white wonderland seemed to be awaiting me.

The mountain hamlet of Prapic (1550m) down below.

Not yet that much snow in the mountains.

Looking back to frozen Lac des Estaris (2560m) from Col des Freissinières (2782m).

View back to Col des Freissinières (2782m) while climbing Roc Diolon (3071m).

The way to the summit of Roc Diolon (3071m).

I was experimenting with a pair of neoprene cycling overshoes over my trailrunners on this trip to keep my shoes dry and my feet warmer. The top of the overboots don’t have a close fit around my lower shin. Not enough time anymore before I left to sew an appropriate gaiter onto the overboots and by coincidence (or I can better admit that I’m not that organized) I didn’t find my second gaiter in my closet at home to wear over the overboots and so I eventually left without gaiters. I would be walking on snowshoes for most of the time and seen the recent weather evolution and the limited amounts of snow, I was probably not going to be missing my gaiters that much. It was not ideal but I wasn’t really worried. I still could bent my socks over the top of the overboots, a makeshift that seemed to work sufficiently.

The bivouac spot on the ridge at around 3040m altitude.

The Champsaur valley and the ski resort of Orcières-Merlettes from the summit at night.

Melting snow for supper in the tent after the avoided disaster.

I gained altitude on the zigzag path above Prapic, then headed north over the snow covered terrain near the closed ski resort of Orcières-Merlette to reach the frozen mountain lake of Grand Lac des Estaris (2560m) around noon. I had been walking on microspikes since I touched the first crusted snow, but from here I had to put my snowshoes on to reach the Col des Freissinières (2782m) over the deep wind driven snow accumulation that had been blown trough the mountain pass. The climb to the mountain pass ended in a short steeper section with a slope up to around 35°. From the pass I looked down into the deeps in the valley head of Val des Freissinières at the other side. Descending the pass over here looked steep and didn’t seem to be without avalanche danger, but that would be for tomorrow.

The highest peaks of the Ecrins including Barre des Ecrins (4102m) from Roc Diolon just before sunrise.

Awaiting the sunrise at the summit cairn.

The modest sunrise behind a veil of high clouds.

First sunrays hitting the highest peaks of the Ecrins.

I exchanged snowshoes for microspikes again and turned south on the pass to continue to gain altitude on the mountain ridge over hard icy snow. After a while I reached the summit of Roc Diolon (3071m) without much effort. The sun was now already low above the horizon. I enjoyed the summit views for a while with especially the 4000m peaks of the Ecrins in the north that impressed the most.

The east ridge of Roc Diolon with Tête de Soulaure (3243m) in the background.

The perfect spot for a ridge bivouac, Vieux Chaillol (3163m) and the Devoluy mountains in the back.

Hardly a breeze on the summit, ideal conditions to make a high altitude bivouac as planned. If possible I would have pitched my tent on the summit but that seemed to result in an uncomfortable nights sleep. About 30m below the summit I found a perfect spot and pitched the tent while the sun went to sleep behind the horizon. The wind picked up at night to a steady moderate breeze and maintained a constant -8°c inside the tent.

The view while descending down Col des Freissinières into the valley with the same name.

Looking back to Col des Freissinières and Crête du Martinet (3104m).

While melting snow for supper it started to smell suspiciously like propane gas inside the tent after a while. I checked my burner and gas canister and then suddenly noticed that liquefied gas was squirting out of the rotary valve on the gas canister. I was using my MSR Windpro burner in inverted liquid feed as I had always done before without problems. While turning the canister to close the valve, the leaking gas caught fire and I now had a burning bomb of a gas canister in my hands! In panic I started to knock the flame with my hands (while wearing mittens luckily) but the flame only got extinguished once I realized after a few seconds that I better just could close the valve. What a relief when the flames died, my heart yet beating as hell. Fortunately I had left the tent door opened. If not, the tent fabric could have caught fire. I had checked the gas burner at home before the trip and it had worked fine than. When I lit the burner again I found out that the rubber around the lever seemed to have worn too much and did not entirely seal the valve anymore. As long as I did not turn the lever too abruptly the leaking hold off. Still this is unacceptable for me. A gas burner should remain safe at all times, even when some sealing rubber would start to wear off. Anyway, I eventually had a good meal that evening but a few holes had been burned in my mittens though.

Down Val des Freissinières.

The frozen river at Val des Freissinères while approaching Dormillouse.

Reaching the tree line again while climbing to Cabane de Palluel, Pic de Rochelaire (3108m) and Tête de Couleau (3038m) in the background.

I climbed to the summit again during the morning and awaited the sunrise which led to a very short lived morning glow on the surrounding peaks. The nocturnal breeze faded away as the sun rose and I packed my stuff in a deadly silence… as long as there was no jet plane flying overhead at least. When again arrived at the Col des Freissinières I put crampons on my feet and took my ice ax from my backpack and descended steep down into the valley over crusted snow between outcrops of rocks. Finally on flatter terrain I continued over mostly portable crust but suddenly fell through the snow in a deep hole onto what seemed to be a boulder field underneath and while hitting ground a point of a crampon pushed into the femur of my other leg. I climbed out of the hole and checked my leg. Despite there was no hole torn in my pants, I still felt a lot of pain for a while and noticed a wound on my leg, slightly bleeding but not troublesome enough to stop me from walking deeper down the valley.

Morning at Canabe de Palluel (2173m).

The mountain stream slowly freezing, Le Tuba (3008m) and Petit Pinier (3100m) in the background.

A steep climb out of the valley, Le Tuba (3008m), Petit Pinier (3100m) and Grand Pinier (3117m) at the horizon.

Val des Freisinnières is yet one of those quite wild and remote looking valleys in the Alps which you don’t find that much anymore these days. Deeper down the valley the winter sun didn’t reach the valley bottom and progression became more tiresome through a half a meter of powder. It took me till late afternoon to reach the hamlet of Dormillouse (1727m), now abandoned during winter. From here I crossed the river and climbed over the summer trail in the forest which leads to Lac Palluel. I climbed above tree line and stopped at Cabane de Palluel (2173m) before reaching the mountain lake. The shepherds cabin was now locked for winter but I found an easy way to get in. I cautiously melted snow with my own burner inside the cabin and now managed to limit the gas squirting of the burner to a minimum.

Overlooking the terrain towards Col des Terres Blanches (2721m) and Tête de Couleau (3038m).

Peculiar footprints.

Watching the night sky.

Moon and star trails at the bivouac spot near Col des Terres Blanches (2721m).

Polaris found.

Later during the night I was mostly awake in the cabin, too warm inside and the usual uproar of mice kept my out of my sleep most of the time. The next morning I left early after sunrise and created my own traces in the snow while searching a route to Grande Cabane de Faravel (2204m). From there I could descend down to the valley bottom and climb along the eastern slope of the valley passed a steep rock face to reach a high mountain valley under Col des Terres Blanches (2721m). I pitched the tent just below the col that evening and enjoyed the starry sky for almost two hours before searching for my sleeping bag in the tent.

Local zastrugi formation at Col des Terres Blanches (2721m).

Footprints of chamois and snow grouse lead me towards the summit of Le Tuba (3008m).

Pic de Rochelaire (3108m) and Tête de Vautisse (3156m) seen from le Tuba (3008m).

Ridge walk back to Col des Terres Blanches (2721m).

A distant view to Monte Viso (3841m).

The last day included a long ridge snowshoe walk towards the summit of Le Tuba (3008m) where I enjoyed a long pause to admire the surrounding peaks. Back at Col des Terres Blanches I started the final and long descend back down to Prapic. Along the way I encountered a couple of chamois that seemed to be playing tag with each other. When I arrived at Prapic it was already dark and night while the stars started to appear in the sky. The beautiful trip had come to its end.

Snowshoe hare, where are you?

Following the deep incised Torrent de la Bruyère below Col des Terres Blanches.

The last bits to Prapic (1550m).

Catching the first peak flow of the season in the Ardennes

The end of October and the first weeks of November have been very wet in Belgium and beyond. River levels steadily rose to the usual winter flow. The packraft season started. During the night from November 7 to 8, a waving cold front brought an inch of rain during the night. The day before I headed to the Ardennes and hiked upstream in the drizzle along the High Lesse, scouting the few short class III rapids that can be found in the upper reaches of the river.

Clattering rain fell down the entire night. My earplugs were grateful tools to catch some sleep under my MYOG flat tarp. Next day the rain stopped during the morning and when I came back to the river I encountered a brown coloured swollen Lesse, the flow rate had more than doubled during the night. I continued scouting further upstream where too many strainers made me decide to better hike back to near the colfluence with the Our river. After scouting the few class III rapids further downstream from the confluence to be sure, I finally put in.

Virée Jaiffe rapid where the river loses 1,5m over 3 drops.

Another nice short drop upstream of Virée Jaiffe.

Too many strainers in the river upstream of the village of Lesse.

What looked a bit intimidating and difficult to catch the best line through the two biggest rapids while scouting from the river side, seemed to be child’s play once in my packraft, although the swift current between the rapids asked for attention almost any time.

A submerged strainer created a nice little waterfall.

I had to portage one strainer, all other ones could be passed along or jumped. Further downstream the river was flooding at several places and I was lucky to notice a wire stretched low across the river just in time. Another time I had to fight with overhanging branches that caught my head and almost pulled me out of my raft. Packrafting at peak flows teaches you to stay focused on the river at all times. It took me almost 2 hours to float down almost 20km. At such speed fun insured!