10 minute read
DefinitelyNotTheLastTrip
DEFINITELY NOT THE LAST TRIP
Text: Klas Beyer / Photo: Erik Nylander / Illustration: Julia Möller
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It's tradition. Every year, for one week, we do something like this together. That means hiking, paddling, making fires and socialising. One week to recharge for the other 51 weeks of the year. And now it's finally here, this summer's 'Christmas Eve'!
The river Dellik appears like a wide finish line down in the valley
Somewhere in the summer
We've packed the tents, eaten our breakfast, and now we're brushing our teeth in a mad rush. The eagerness to get going is so great that the whole morning routine is sped up and streamlined, almost like a Formula One tyre change. It's the second day of our adventure week and we have a long hike ahead of us, but that's not why we're so eager; we're racing through our breakfast because it's the first day we get to paddle! On this year's trip it's me (Klas Beyer), Oskar, Kire, and Erik, all from the Norrland coast. Then we have the mountain division which consists of Jocke, Jonas, Lucas, Anton and another Klas. It was originally snowboarding that brought us together and nowadays we have this summer tradition together too. In the beginning it was mostly about beer and fishing, but over the years the focus has shifted to lighter loads and better equipment, so there's a lot less beer and a lot more kilometres. This is the sixth year we've done a trip. The biggest change took place three years ago with the introduction of
“The real joy of the packraft the packraft. Suddenly our is how it allows you to paddle horizons opened up and we started to dream big. Of in remote places that you course, it's practical to cross lakes in minutes that would couldn’t normally reach with otherwise have taken hours, a regular boat or canoe.” but the real joy of the packraft is how it allows you to paddle in remote places that you couldn't normally reach with
a regular boat or canoe.
We each have a three-kilo inflatable canoe, but apart from the oars poking out from everyone's bags, nothing differentiates us from a bunch of ordinary mountain hikers. Even though the path is narrow where we're walking, we constantly change places on the trail. Everyone wants to talk to everyone and catch up on what's happened since we last saw each other. What new gear has everyone bought? Are they ultralight boots? And who really has the cutest puppy at home?
We walk for a couple of hours until we finally crest the last rise and see the river Dellik flowing through the valley, like an oasis in the desert. We step off the trail into bogland with a few willow trees dotted around and get pretty muddy as we approach the river but it doesn't matter. Soon we'll take our first paddle strokes and leave the mud behind. At the water's edge, we squeeze together on the few dry spots and have some lunch. I quickly inflate my packraft and put on a pair of neoprene shoes. Behind me, I can see snow-capped
Equipment:
Throwline, life jacket, satellite phone, map and compass, straps (to secure your luggage), neoprene gloves (for frozen hands), helmet (for tougher rapids).
To consider:
Learn about safety when paddling in fast waters. Be smart and don't take unnecessary risks. In a mountain environment, the water is cold, so it's smart to use neoprene shoes. This way, you can get out and walk the kayak through shallow sections instead of having to fully carry the packraft.
peaks and in front of me, the river.
With a full stomach, I tie my dry bag to the canoe's bow and push off into the flowing water. I feel the power of the river as I slowly glide into the middle. Even though it's not flowing very fast here, I notice how the river takes control, and I follow its lead. We paddle, float and feel our way forward at the same time and our hiking muscles get a chance to rest. After each small rapid, we gather in a group and cheer on the next person as they come down. The atmosphere is joyous, and all we need to think about is paddling.
The plan is to paddle for a couple of hours and then set up the tents, but everyone who's been out in nature knows the plan can change quickly. My friend Erik gets a puncture in his packraft and so we're done paddling for the day. No one's had a puncture before, so everyone's keen to get involved with Erik's repair that evening. It's surprisingly easy to fix the hole, and that's great, but a small part of me wanted it to be a bit more challenging.
Ride on
A new day. Erik's repair from last night seems to be holding up and we bob happily down the valley. But we don't even make it an hour before disaster strikes. This time it's my turn. I manage to wedge the paddle between two stones in the middle of a rapid, and it snaps like a pencil. With a couple of young birches and a generous amount of gorilla tape, I manage to make a rough splint for the paddle. It's not a particularly elegant repair but it seems strong enough. We laugh a bit at this miserable start and I feel stupid for saving money on a cheap paddle. After that, everything flows (literally) on. With a mix of excitement and energy, we put many kilometres behind us before setting up camp for the night. Later in the evening, when I've crawled into my sleeping bag, the rain begins to patter on the flysheet and I fall asleep to my favourite sound; far away from the paperwork and VAT receipts of my day-to-day life.
Man overboard
Water always takes the path of least resistance, but that doesn't necessarily mean we can do the same. Sure, the first kilometres of the day went by quickly and painlessly, but by now the rapids have become tougher, and we often have to portage the rafts to get to calmer waters. When we're having lunch, Erik, who's an old rafting guide, says we can probably
When you cry-laugh in the rain, only the laughter is visible
Anything that can’t be fixed with duct tape is broken
tackle some of the wilder rapids; partly to avoid all that carrying but also because we've become better at paddling and reading the river. It turns out that Erik's right: after lunch we tackle more rapids and walk less and less. At the larger paddle-friendly rapids, one person jumps out and stands on the bank with a throwline ready, in case someone falls in.
We manage this surprisingly well and are moving down the Dellik, bouncing like pinballs. But we have to work harder now, and the water surges on with relentless force. It goes fast, almost twice as fast as our normal hiking pace. But a few hours later my enthusiasm levels have dropped slightly – I have aches and pains and the pace is taking its toll. Just after I pass a medium-sized rapid, I hear a cry behind me. I turn around and see an empty packraft; someone has fallen in. Shortly after, I see Klas swimming towards the bank and I barely have time to react before Kire is overboard too. Even though it's the middle of summer, it's only 7 degrees, and the water is still cold. My friends swim ashore fast and the rest of us gather their stuff as it floats past. About an hour later we're sitting around the fire. The atmosphere is cheerful, but Klas and Kire definitely seem to be a little closer to the fire than the others!
Amemoryofadownpour
The paddling part of the trip is over, and standing on the bare mountain we're met by a real storm. Before going on this trip, I had to choose between trail shoes and boots. I decided to go with the lightweight option and wore the shoes; now they fill with icy marsh water with every step I take. I should've worn the boots. After an hour of hiking, everyone's in their own bubble. Nobody's talking and everyone's in a trance. It's raining heavily, the wind is blowing 24 metres per second and it's only four degrees. This isn't the first time I've experienced this type of trance, and it seems like it comes when it's needed most. Your feet walk automatically, and your brain just switches off.
It's raining more horizontally than vertically, and you have to squint so your eyes don't get stung by the rain. When I come out of my trance, my eyes meet Jonas' empty gaze. "This is the coldest thing I've ever experienced," he mumbles between rattling teeth. I give him my gloves and wonder how long we've been walking, but quickly realise I have no idea. Either way, it doesn't matter, we've got to camp before we end up with frostbite.
We call out to the others and agree to camp at the next stream we pass. Pitching a tent in a storm is as hard as it sounds, but the desire for cover gives us the strength we need. When all the tent poles are in the ground, and all the storm lines are tight, we hurry into the tents. We change into dry clothes, crawl into the sleeping bags and cook some soup. Slowly, the heat returns to our bodies, all the way down to our toes and we're warm again. When the rain subsides, we quickly slip out of the tents to dry some of our gear in the wind.
We stand there with our arms outstretched, nine scarecrows on a bare mountain, the wet clothes in our hands fluttering in the wind. As we look at each other, we erupt in laughter. I don't know if it's joy or relief that this dark day is over, but we're all happy again.
At last
After this hellish day, struggling up the bare mountain, we get two trouble-free hiking days. We take long coffee breaks, share all the goodies that were left and enjoy the stunning mountain scenery. This trip gives us exactly what we need: the wilderness offers a perfect contrast to the city. Hiking, paddling, talking and enjoying our friendship, and after all the struggle and hardship, these lovely days seem lovelier than ever.
Alaskan adventure boats
Inflatable boats suitable for wilderness adventures have been around for almost a hundred years. Light, inflatable kayaks for hiking trips started to appear in Alaska in the late 20th century. At first, these plastic kayaks punctured quite easily, but later strong nylon was used to make them more durable. New models weigh between 1.5 – 6 kilos and come in different sizes and designs depending on whether you’re looking to paddle on a calm lake or take your dog and 100-litre backpack through some rapids!
Photo: Sofia Sjöberg
