This week, we’re heading all the way back to Singletrack 74. Join the Dave and Sim Show as it sets sail for the New World…
This article first appeared in issue 74 of Singletrack Magazine. Subscribers have full access to all Singletrack articles past and present. Learn more from about our subscriptions offers:
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UK Adventure: Faked Alaska.
Dave and Sim came up with the silly idea to end all silly ideas. Needless to say, we earmarked the pages and sent them on their way.
Words by Dave ‘it’s all downhill from here’ Anderson. Pictures by Sim ‘I don’t like getting my ears wet’ Mainey.
My paddling career began one glorious summer when I spent six months on the dole straight out of school with a like-minded group of outdoorsy slackers. The facts that we were young and invincible, holed up on the coast and in receipt of a perfectly timed gift of one of my older brother’s ex-competition slalom boats converged into what seemed a suitably adventurous, but totally achievable plan. Sitting on the beach one day after a particularly satisfying surf session scaring the Wirral windsurfers we decided that on the next calm day we’d head off and canoe to Wales; we could see the place, how hard could it be?
I remember the sense of satisfaction as we headed out round Hilbre Island, straightlining for the Welsh coast beyond, slowly fading into one of survival as the tide turned and we paddled like crazy to prevent ourselves getting dragged out by the turning tide into the Irish Sea. An hour of paddling that just about kept us stationary before we could beach, then shoulder the boats to begin the long walk of shame back to our start point on the now distant marina drive. Cue return to the canoe as plaything and the refocusing of adventure as being a strictly two-wheeled affair.
Older and (perhaps not) wiser.
Fast forward a few years, spent predominantly on knobbly tyres as other sports faded into the background and gear was mothballed in the loft. Years where biking was lived and breathed. An addiction fed by magazines and one in particular that I waited for, month in and out; Bike. Bike, the magazine that allowed you to experience these amazing rides and adventures around the world; living vicariously through the writers’ experiences. For me the writer whose articles I waited for more than any other were the ones from Roman Dial.
Hike-a-biking watersheds before unpacking these amazing little boats that carry bike and rider downstream.
Roman Dial it seems, excels in true ‘off the map’ wilderness adventures. Dropped off by plane in the middle of Alaska and then heading to some still suitably remote trailhead for the return to civilization. Riding narrow animal trails through willow scrub, trailed by grizzly bears, hike-a-biking watersheds before unpacking these amazing little boats that carry bike and rider downstream to the next available trail…
Packrafting. I’m hooked and yet it doesn’t seem a viable option in the UK. We lack the true wilderness to do it, we lack the dangerous megafauna to stalk us while we do it and, with the rafts somewhere in the region of eight hundred quid to import, we lack the disposable income to justify the limited amount of use they’d get. Or at least I do. With the exception of the Highlands of Scotland I realise I’ll never get close to a true Dial’esque packraft adventure. It’s time to compromise.
So having bought the book, read and reread the articles, I wait until the next editorial meeting to suggest this article; a one-ton challenge for two of us to go packrafting. Two people, two rafts for under £100; I’m convinced it’ll work.
Cometh the hour…
Like a zen warrior, my plan is simply to have no plan; that way there’s less to fail. Actually that’s not quite true. I’ve assembled some rough ideas in my head but largely I’m hoping they’ll all fall into place when we get there because ‘it’s bound to work’. I’m fairly sure others at the mag aren’t quite so convinced by this, as the article has been stalled until the relaunch is out of the way in case I drown Design Czar Sim. I’d been hoping for backdrops of snow-capped mountains; you know, like you see in all those Alaskan articles; but we find ourselves in the middle of an early spring as we head up to Keswick.
My plan is simply to have no plan; that way there’s less to fail.
At this point, as we head over Dunmail Rise and begin the descent towards Keswick, it’s fair to point out we have no rafts; the van only carries us, our bikes and associated clutter. It’s also at this point that Sim thinks it’s only fair to point out he’s not that good at swimming. I start to realise the ‘please don’t drown him’ messages everyone’s been giving me probably weren’t jokes after all, but we’re committed now and I’m doing my best not to let doubts creep in. As we set camp for the night we’re treated to the most amazing sunset. I take it to be a good sign, a promise of a good day tomorrow.
Roll up, roll up, get your cut-price life rafts ‘ere!
The plan for the morning is simple; have breakfast then head over to Lakeland Toys and Hobbies. Despite the name they are purveyors of inflatable canoes and I’m hoping they’ve got something suitable in our price range. Outside the shop a line of Sevylors stand to attention. We inspect the line starting big and heading down the range until we reach the short and cheaper end. The boats at the cheaper end look like slightly rugged beach dinghies, mainly because that’s what they are, but they’re also in our price range. Well within our price range, as it turns out.
We’ve already compromised on wilderness, so we decide to compromise on the packing bit too.
For less than the price of a decent tyre we can get a package deal of Hydro-Force raft, paddles and pump. A bargain and it even says ‘raft’ on the box. This is something that makes us happy; we’ve not just bought a dinghy, we’ve bought a proper raft for £34.99 that actually looks like it might be tough enough to survive its maiden voyage.
We’re pleasantly surprised that the only safety talk we get when purchasing the rafts is “don’t get in them until they’re floating or they’ll rip on the slates at the bottom”, although admittedly we haven’t mentioned anything about strapping bikes to them at this point. The rafts are 194cm by 110cm inflated, which seems just about right for what we’ve got planned, and in their packed state will just about fit into a Revelate Viscacha seatpack or a small rucksack. But we’ve already compromised on wilderness, so we decide to compromise on the packing bit too.
At this point we only want to know if the plan will float (groan) we’re not out for a full-on adventure. Like it says in the ‘Packrafting! Book’: start small and on easy water to get a feel for loaded travel before launching into anything committing. Our aim is to see if our bargain boats are up to it, which compromises we’ll have to make and to find out if there might be a future for some form of packraft adventure riding in the lowlands of the UK.
Men with plans
I’ve a plan for our first trial destination: Ullswater. This is based on three things: first, it’s a relatively shallow, sloping-floored lake but with a river we can cruise down; second, I know the Patterdale Mountain Rescue Team have a RIB they use for watery rescues should we get into trouble and lastly, my mate Martin will likely be driving said inflatable, which should make the rescue a bit less embarrassing if it needs to happen. Obviously I’ve sold the destination to Sim slightly differently, glossing over these small details and instead concentrating on the quality backdrop for photos and the opportunity to ride the eastern lakeshore singletrack that otherwise requires quite a lot of road to get back to the start.
Sun and blue skies make for a great day of riding.
Instead of carrying the rafts on our bikes, we come up with a better idea which we think will work better for a lot of rides. On the drive out we stash the rafts, pumps and paddles out of sight near the shoreline. This means we don’t need to compromise the ride and seeing as we’re not riding point to point, there seems little need to make the bikes more cumbersome for the sake of it when we’ve got this option instead. With the rafts stashed we can head down to the other end of the lake and saddle up for a bit of singletrack fun and photoshooting.
Sun and blue skies make for a great day of riding, with clear spring air giving great views out over the fells and mountains beyond the opposite shore. It’s nice to make the most of the mid-week ride, spinning along and chatting to walkers as we meet them, riding and re-riding techy sections, slowly making progress around the lake. By mid-afternoon we’ve reached the stash point; it’s time to inflate the rafts and strap the bikes on for the return journey.
Would you like any help with your packing?
The sight of two mountain bikers retrieving and inflating rafts proves a popular spectacle for passing walkers and ramblers, bemused by what they’re seeing. The cheap hand pumps are surprisingly efficient and after five minutes we’ve got both rafts looking boat-like so it’s time to get them on the water to let the air inside cool before a final top-up. It’s confidence inspiring to note they’re twin chambered – if they do puncture, there’s a good chance they’ll stay afloat until we can limp to shore. [Like the Titanic? – Ed.]
The rafts we’ve chosen have just enough space.
A final blast of air means it’s time to commit. With the wheels off the bikes, it’s time to come up with a strategy for loading them on the rafts. I opt for the classic bike on the bow that I’ve seen in so many articles and photos of similar adventures. The Highball and its wheels sit up front with two straps through the frame and wheels, securing it to the bit of rope around the outside of the raft. I take my shoes off, worried the mud spikes up front might rip a hole in the floor; then push the raft into knee-deep water before jumping in, wary of the rocky lake bottom.
Pushing off with the paddle gets me into deeper water and a few practise paddle strokes proves the boat to be a bit skittish at steering. A bit of experimenting proves the need for more weight over the front end; the Highball is too light to keep it in the water. Sim goes for bike strapped onto the back of the raft and paddler seated up front, which proves much more reliable at staying in a straight line. The rafts we’ve chosen have just enough space for us, our bikes and all our kit; a lucky choice.
We are sailing…
And so we start a serene journey back to the van. Using J-strokes (“used to make the canoe go in a straight line when paddling solo” – songofthepaddle.com) with the paddles to maintain a straight line for the car park, we head off in a northerly direction towards the top of the lake. It’s a perfect end to a perfect spring day, chatting over the sound of the paddles, chilling and taking in the views; a calm counterpoint to the grunt and grind of the ride. The small paddles also make our slow journey long enough to start making plans to adapt them for paddling and packing efficiency.
As the sun starts dropping over the mountains we sight the van and turn the rafts upstream.
It’s a relief when we feel the current of the river start to help with the progress we’re making. The river also shows the rafts’ potential; they’re coping fine with the scraping they’re getting from rounded rocks in the river’s shallows. They’re not rapids material, admittedly but they’re still much tougher than we thought we could afford. With a bit of planning and portage, they’ll be fine for the river adventures that we can’t help getting excited about already. As the sun starts dropping over the mountains we sight the van and turn the rafts upstream, coming in to land on the gravel river bank safe and sound.
Call off the search
I’ve been really surprised at just how well our thirty five quid rafts coped. Admittedly we kept it easy but the experience of even this most basic first attempt at packrafting has opened our eyes to a type of trip that would probably work really well in most of the UK.
It’s addictive, and we’re hooked.
We’re not in Alaska, we don’t have wilderness and apart from in a few distant corners of the isle, you’re going to struggle to put together a multi-day packraft and bike trip where the raft element really is an essential part of travel. But with a bit of adaption and compromise we think it’s a viable option for out and back rides, with a choice of either stashing or carrying the rafts. Ride out as far as you like before letting a river carry you back to the start – what’s not to like? Obviously a bit of research into the river will be needed because any sort of whitewater would need to be approached with caution in a cheap raft – or an expensive one, if you’re fresh off the sofa and have never picked up a paddle in your life.
But, for less than the price of a tyre, you can introduce a different sort of adventure to a bike ride. It’s addictive, and we’re hooked.
Useful Resources and Inspiration:
‘Packrafting! – An Introduction & How-To Guide’, by Roman Dial
Everything you need to know from the packrafting guru himself, plus a liberal dollop of adventures too, to get your raft stoke flowing.
‘Down the River’, by Edward Abbey
A collection of Abbey’s adventures and explorations by boat through the American wilderness.
Song of the Paddle: songofthepaddle.co.uk
The online home of the UK’s open canoe paddlers, with a really useful forum.
UK Rivers Guidebook: ukriversguidebook.co.uk
Research that first trip so you know what you’re getting into.
BackcountryBiking: backcountrybiking.co.uk
Offer fully guided pack raft adventures in Scotland, in proper rafts – just in case the DIY option doesn’t appeal…
This feature first appeared in Singletrack Issue 74, June 2012. For more great content, check out the Singletrack Mag Archive – every magazine we’ve ever made lives here.
