7 minute read
Hike, Fly, Float
Learning a new outdoor sport changes the way you look at a map. Hike & fly pilots see potential launch spots where trampers might just see appealing lunch spots.
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When I learnt to packraft, the river was no longer an obstacle, it became the objective.
A big part of planning a trip is satisfying a curiosity. “What will it be like?” “Will it be possible?” And as I looked at the map, tracing rivers which I’d paddled, near launches that I’d flown, a small curiosity was born: “I wonder if you could combine paragliding with packrafting?”
I certainly wasn’t the first to think it, but it was hardly a common combination. A loaded hike & fly pack is heavy enough, could I manage the extra bulk and weight of a packraft and paddling gear? A mid-winter day trip was the right opportunity to find out...
From the Routeburn, hike up to Sugarloaf Pass. Fly down into the Dart valley and packraft home. The route was short enough to be achieved in a day, and had a few tracks nearby, so if things didn’t quite work, then it was simple enough to ‘hike & hike’ from any point back to the car. An interesting challenge, non-committing, beautiful... Why not give it a go?
I spent a fair bit of time the night before, staring at piles of gear in the
Above; Skywoman flying a Skyman. Melanie Heather lands in the Dart Valley
Below; Chilly climb through wet beech forest
Lower left; David Cleary hikes towards launch above Sugarloaf Pass Photos: Dan Clearwater
garage, taking away as many things as I dared. It was quite an interesting exercise to choose the bare minimum of gear to keep safe and at a good temperature, whether hiking, flying or floating.
I figured that the paddle was probably going to be the longest and coldest leg, so I tried to optimise my clothing and gear for that phase. That section of the Dart is really only a bouncy float, so I bargained on keeping in my boat, and even though it was August, opted only for thermals under a splash jacket and rain pants rather than a bulkier and heavier dry suit.
My flying kit was a ‘semi-light’ Ozone Geo and an Advance Progress reversible harness, so pack space was certainly at a premium. The best way I found to get the packraft in the bag was to fold it into a large flat rectangle, the same size as a tightly packed wing. With care, the two items took about as much space as a hastily packed wing.
As we drove towards the start point, our crew of three exchanged stories of the things we’d brought (and what had been left behind). Everyone had taken a slightly different approach; Mel’s was “take as little as possible to keep as light as possible for the hike”. Dave’s style “I don’t care if it’s heavy, I am not going to be cold on the river” and mine sort of halfway between. Pack weights were between 17-20kg, so not too bad considering what they contained.. The lesson was clear: whatever you choose, it will be a compromise and won’t work as well or be as comfy as your ‘normal’ choices for at least one of the activities..
An early start on a clear august day made for a frosty climb up the Sugarloaf pass track. Leaving the track at the pass, we continued up and east through the tussock, to spectacular views of the Humboldt Mountains, Barrier Range and Mount Earnslaw/Pikirakatahi.
At the north eastern corner of the tussock tops, we found a launch which would give us plenty of glide to get over the forested slopes to the open Dart Valley flats. Carefully packed bags were turfed out on the tussock, only to be re-packed almost as carefully into our harnesses. Length rather than volume seemed to be the issue here. Even with 4-piece paddles, they poked out the top of Dave’s harness compartment, needing a bit of string to keep the zip sliders from un-zipping in flight.
Despite more wind than forecast the sleddy was beautifully smooth, and all-too soon we found ourselves in the Dart, ready to transition to the next phase of the journey. Here is where our different approaches to gear became apparent.
Mel strapped her glider to the front of her boat with only a pack cover for protection against the water. Her paddle clothes were thermal legging
Below; Finally Airborne! Photo: David Cleary
and a synthetic puffy jacket, with no spray skirt.
The river took longer than we’d bargained for: with an hour of paddling still to go, the sun went down behind the hills and the temperature plummeted. By the end of the trip, the splashing had gotten her harness wet; next time a plastic pack liner would be a light and compact waterproofing option. The ‘light as possible’ clothing option ended up her miserably cold. However, she’d brought along an inflatable ‘snorkelling vest’/ buoyancy aid, which was half the weight of our bulkier kayaking PFD’s and rolled up to almost no space.
My packraft has a TiZip (waterproof zipper) which allows you to store
equipment inside the inflatable chambers. A concertina bag made it relatively easy to feed the wing into the boat, but the harness took quite a bit of careful effort for it to go through the small zipper opening without damaging the seal. Bit like force feeding a boa-constrictor.
To be honest, I’d been a bit lazy and hadn’t bothered to actually have a go at packing all the gear in the various configurations to see if it actually fitted. Would have been a bit inconvenient realising out there that my paddle didn’t fit in my harness, or my harness in my boat.
Dave’s pack was the heaviest, but we really envied his drysuit when on the river. In hindsight, I reckon that for anything but a short, simple float on a hot summer’s day, I’d just take the drysuit and wear it whilst flying and paddling.
Over a post trip meal in Glenorchy, our team warmed up and chattered about the possibilities of parapackrafting. Just imagine the interesting routes you could put together if you had an ultralight/ single-skin set up...
Beyond loads of local-style round trips like ours, a packraft on board could make for an enjoyable ‘selfretrieve’ on XC flights: head up valley till lift or enthusiasm decays then float back home. Or give an alternative scenario for bombing out somewhere a bit more committed: many tiring hours walking out of the valley, or an enjoyable and relaxing float?
The very idea of going vol-biv with a packraft makes my shoulders hurt, but a chap in Alaska is doing just that. Thai Verzone did a solo 3 day trip, first flying XC into the mountains near Talkeetna and climbing a peak or two from his campsite.
Day two was a frustrating flight, followed by some steep packrafting grade 3 and 4 water, followed by some rough bush bashing. Because it’s Alaska and the sun hardly sets, he began paddling the 45 miles ‘easy’ water through to his destination
Centre left; Transformed from pilots to paddlers Photo: Dan Clearwater
Left; All smiles before the sun went down and the teeth began to chatter... Photo: David Cleary
(Talkneetna) at 9pm, only stopping for a brief sleep at 1am making it to goal by 3pm. That man deserves a cup of tea and a lie down!
Maybe our mountains aren’t set up the same as Alaska, but what if you flew XC to somewhere that would be a nightmare to walk from, but a joy to packraft?
Hike Mt Fyffe then XC into 4 days of grade 2/3 on the Clarence to the ocean. Drive up Treble Cone to fly past Aspiring or round Rabbit pass to paddle the grade 3/4 Waiatoto for 2 more days to the coast. Mt Cheeseman to the Waimakariri, then down through the gorge. Coronet to the Shotover, then back to Arthurs point if you can paddle grade 4..
I just guess it changes the way you look at a map...
Check out a video of the trip at: tinyurl.com/hikeflyfloat
Below; 3 mates, 3 gear strategies. Left to right, David Cleary, Dan Clearwater, Melanie Heather
Above; Paddles can be a bit awkward to pack in some smaller harnesses; experiment at home first!
Below; Exploring a canyon in a nearby side stream Photo: Melanie Heather
Above; Stuffing a paraglider in a packraft is a bit like force feeding a boa-constrictor
Below; Dan’s gear spread Photos: Dan Clearwater
