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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
End of August and I receive a last minute invitation from Waluyo to join him on a yet to define packrafting trip in Switzerland. By chance I can take a few days off. Same so for Eraz. The three of us are heading to the Swiss Alps September 1th and decide to take the alpine headwaters of the Rhine river as our target. The Hinterrhein and Vorderrhein rivers join near the village of Bonaduz to form the upper Rhine upstream of Lake Constance. The lower part of the Hinterrhein looks like a nice warming up for the somewhat more challenging whitewater of the Vorderrhein, the latter wriggling itself through a 20km long canyon before meeting the Hinterrhein. The canyon bears the local name Ruinaulta and is also known as the Swiss Grand Canyon because of its size (of course by far not to be compared with Arizona standards).
On late Sunday we meet each other in Bonaduz. Our trip starts at the confluence of the two rivers. We hike upstream along the Hinterrhein at dusk and soon it is too dark to keep our head lamps in our packs. Waluyo has found a perfect camping spot on a small strip of meadow surrounded by woods and at the edge of the abysm to the river. We put our tarps and inspect each others lightweight gear, but it is Eraz his super light MYOG that receives most attention. We talk till almost midnight and finally creep under our down bags while some light rain is tapping on our tarps.
The morning is dry again. We warm up after breakfast with an hour playing frisbee, something we will repeat for the next mornings… and not only during the mornings. We continue our hike upstream and soon we encounter the rocky rapid in the Hinterrhein near Rothenbrunnen. We decide to inflate our packrafts on a small gravel bar in the river bed just below the rapid. The lower Hinterrhein reveals itself as a rather fast flowing river with some rather modest wave trains and a few easy swift currents. The water level in the river is lower then average and so it becomes a relaxed ride on the river. After about one and a half hour we reach the confluence with the Vorderrhein, put out and let dry our gear on the river bank with the noon lunch.
For the remainder of the day we hike to the west, climbing to the forested south rim of the Vorderrhein canyon with from time to time some budding views down to the river. Eraz suddenly stumbles upon an edible mushroom and is already dreaming about its delicious dessert for this evening. We eventually descend into the canyon to reach the narrow side canyon of the Rabiusa creek. Here we make our camp on the gravel bottom of the canyon and lit a camp fire. Soon the sky is dark with countless stars flickering above the chasm. A curious fox pays us a visit in the dark.
The sun rays take a long time to reach our cold camping spot at the bottom of the canyon during the morning. In order not to get cold, this means frisbee morning!
The day becomes warm as we continue our trip hiking to the west. After some views over the canyon, we mostly continue inside the canyon near the river during the afternoon, scouting some of the rapids. At Schwarze Loch, the most impressive rapid in the canyon, we keep a long break and discuss the ideal line to be followed through the whitewater. Afterwards we hike all the way to Ilanz and finally put in on the Glenner before its confluence with the Vorderrhein.
The water level we encounter on the Vorderrhein has become very low however. Unfortunately that’s what you can get with regulated flow by hydropower dams upstream. However, the river gains some discharge again as we float downstream and the rapids we encounter offer already quite some fun. When we finally reach Schwarze Loch, the river its water level suddenly rises with about half a meter. We decide to take our packs from our packrafts and try to run this longer white water section. None of us has issues with taming the waves.
We camp at a barbecue area next to the river near the entrance of Schwarze Loch and continue on the river the day after. The rapids that follow after Schwarze Loch also make the cruiser decked packrafts of Waluyo and Eraz swallow a few buckets of water repeatedly. We regularly stop to empty the rafts, except for me. The white water spray deck on my packraft proves its functionality once again. We reach Reichenau at the confluence with the Hinterrhein before noon and decide to leave our backpacks with camping gear behind at the confluence to head to the nearby train station with only our packrafting gear for another run on the Vorderrhein, but now obviously without excess gear stowed on the bows of our rafts.
Once again in Ilanz, the water level now shows a decent level. The second run becomes pure joy. We play, try some harder lines and linger for a moment on a nice wave surfing spot. After only a few hours we reach the confluence again and leave the river, this time permanently.
After a camp in a small meadow in the forest above Bonaduz, we hike back to our starting point the next morning and say goodbye. This has been such a great adventure that we definitely should make a similar trip again in the future. Who wants to join next time?
Lake Grevelingen is the biggest non-tidal saltwater lake in Western Europe. Located in the southwest of the Netherlands, it was formed after the damming of a sea strait in the river delta of the Meuse and Rhine rivers during the Delta Works in the ’60s and ’70s. Winds were not too strong by the end of August and so I decided to make a packrafting overnighter on the lake.
I visited several of the many small and uninhabited islands in the lake. On the second day the wind picked suddenly up to a steady 4 Beaufort and waves appeared while I was about in the middle on the lake with the nearest shore of the mainland several kilometers away. No time to waist!
Back on shore I hiked towards the North Sea and played a bit on the sea. Waves were too low for surfing however and so I amused myself by paddling deep into the sea for several times, then capsize my boat and swim back to the shore with my packraft kept on the leash. It was a good workout.