Tingey's Take on Thigh Straps

This from the former Alpacka Web Site Forum now moved to its own http://www.packrafting.org/forums/:

From the designer of Alpacka herself:
"Hi Everyone,

I think it is time I checked in concerning both new developments at Alpacka and aftermarket modifications. I am excited for those of you that are doing mods, many of them are good. However, there a couple modifications that I feel I need to address. More important, I need to address how they’re presented. I’m getting flooded with calls from customers, both old and new wondering what they should be adding to their boats for C-II and C-III water. This concerns me. Most of the whitewater mods I’m aware of don’t have much relevance until you get into Class IV water, or very big Class III. In more normal whitewater, they add weight to the boat, may endanger the boater, and may compromise general boating. I need to call a spade a spade: the boats have been running Class III (and some IV) since 2002 without mods. If you’re running Class II and III water, you honestly don’t need to mod your boat to get reasonable performance.

I will address each of the specific issues individually.

1. Moving your seat forward: This is more applicable with the older boats. The boats that Roman did this with are all model year 2005 or older. Since that time we’ve enlarged and lengthened the stern of the rafts twice, which improves trim and alleviates the need to move forward in the boat . Personally, I don’t see a need to move your seat forward in any of the newer models. If you do want to move your seat, I’d say Velcro is not the solution of choice. It will wear out quickly in that application. I know this because I tried it several years ago. Also, the possibility of sand getting into the velcro in the bottom of the raft where the seat is pretty substantial. With the current thread-in seats, there are much better ways to temporarily move or install a seat.

2. Moving your spraydeck forward: I don’t recommend this. When we have had decks moved forward even a little bit, when the paddler wants to stretch out their legs a large hole is formed between the paddlers waist and the spraydeck. This also tends to pull the deck waist Velcro open. In my experience, it is better to move forward against your deck to get tight in your boat than to have you spraydeck altered forward and never be able to straighten your legs without problems.

3. Thigh Straps: They’re potentially very dangerous. In a word: “entrapment.” Alpacka will not put them in for people, and does NOT recommend them. You can all do this if you choose, but please be aware that there is a very real possibility of entrapment. Reading Tim’s account of getting out of thigh straps drove this home for me. This should not be taken lightly. Packs under a deck can cause entrapment hazard too. I feel we need to caution people that they need to be aware of the risk that they are putting themselves in. Even worse, putting a pack under your knees and then putting your legs into the thigh straps is adding more of an entrapment possibility.

An Alpacka Raft is like a Volkswagon Beetle. The beetle was a magnificent little car that did what it was designed to do. An Alpacka does a terrific job at what it is supposed to do: be a wilderness water access tool. It was never designed to withstand the stresses of rolling and class 5 whitewater. You can put all the attachments on it you want, and as the designer, I’d say you still have a Beetle with forty attachments. It’s not that much closer to the Porsche than it was. A side effect is that you have a 7+ lb. boat. When you need a Porsche, start with a Porche base. Don't destroy your Beetle!
For Class IV and higher whitewater, the kind you’d really want to mod an Alpacka for, I’d say you have two reasonable options: the new boat we’re working on (working title “Witchcraft”) and the a hardshell kayak.

I’ve been mentally designing the Witchcraft for over five years. Everything about it is different and designed to do one thing better: run more difficult whitewater. It’s not a good general trip boat, and isn’t designed to carry weight. This is more of a day creek boat, or a boat for those who want hike in with the objective of hitting a particularly prize piece of water.

Getting back to the kayak point: the Witch will never be as good as a hard shell kayak for high-performance, hard whitewater boating. For that, a molded-hull kayak is the best vehicle. An inflatable improves your portability but doesn’t have the capability to do all the things that a hard shell can. There is a boat for every kind of water, we need to respect and acknowledge how each craft fits into the scheme of the total water picture.

That said, this new boat is addressing many of things that modifications address on older boats.

Design: This boat is designed to be trim with just the paddler in it. The stern has been elongated another 4 inches. The bow tubes have been shrunk down as well. Result: the boat runs really well without a pack and holds its line better than the standard boat, but does NOT carry a pack well. This is much more of a day boat.

Fabric: The entire boat is made of floor fabric to better withstand more serious creek bashing. This throws the weight up to around 8 pounds, maybe more, much more bulky than a classic Alpacka.

Spraydeck: The new spraydeck is drier than the standard one. Several factors are in play here, and be aware that this deck doesn’t work on the regular boats: it does some things that work because of the different hull design. The deck is also glued on, like the floor, and built of much heavier fabric.

Thigh support system: The thigh support system comes from above and when the deck cord is pulled the whole system releases, allowing the paddler to slide out of the boat. What I’m attempting to do with it is create a support system that addresses the dangers I see of thigh straps in the boat.

So far everyone has been very pleased with the new boat, but we are still testing it, and obviously arduous testing is very important for something like this. I’m hoping to make it available sometime in May on a limited basis. We will be taking orders and making the boats up custom for this season. These boats are quite time consuming and difficult for us to produce, so be forewarned that the costs will be higher. I have not costed them out fully because we are still getting our processes worked out but be prepared that the boats will probably be around $300 more than a regular decked Alpacka Raft. I think it will be a great addition to the Alpacka line, but not a replacement in any way for your standard Alpacka, and not a beginner’s boat. This boat is another arrow in your quiver, designed for those of are willing to sacrifice general purpose boating qualities to focus on whitewater. And it still won't do everything that a hardshell can.

Know your limits!
Cheers everyone,

Sheri
My posts are personal opinions only (not an official statement or policy by Alpacka Raft, although I may allude to existing Alpacka policies).
sheri"

More on Mods

D-Ring Placements Thigh straps attach to the boat at D-rings at the foot and the hip. I’d like to move my foot still farther forward in a Super-Llama so that I can push my feet onto the front tube, like I do in a strapless-Yak. But the spraydeck opening for my torso in my stock, center-opening Llama will not allow this. It would be nice if Alpacka would join the revolution and help rectify this, by moving the seat and the spray deck opening maybe six inches or more. If I could move the foot end of the thigh strap, I’d move the hip end forward, too, and get it away from the topping-valve (it’s an old boat) and experiment with high vs. low placement of the hip-end. You see some times when I am upside down, one leg will slip out of the thigh strap and I cannot roll up. I also still do a bit of high-bowing when dropping and so think I need to be even more forward than I am in my Super-Llama.

Alpacka are you listening? Ideally, we need three more boats with variable placement of thigh-straps and then people to try them out, first during pool-sessions to see what rolls easiest, then in Six-Mile, Canyon and Bird Creeks to see what paddles best. These would, of course, be center-opening Llamas (to make it easier to get back in) with “inner-bladder technology” on the waist of the spraydeck (to keep water from coming in over the top of the skirt), plus mondo Velcro (to keep water from coming in through the skirt opening).

Velcro Another drawback to thigh-straps with stock spraydecks is that your knees will be up, not straight or extended, so that the spraydeck may not be wide enough to close solidly. You need to extend the width of the spraydeck with more Velcro. Sure it adds weight, but it will keep it dryer inside the boat, much drier. I think the stock Velcro comes as narrow as one, single inch on some models of spray-deck, which is being ounce-wise and pound-foolish in my opinion.

So if you plan to add Velcro to your spraydeck, be sure to EXTEND the width of the spray deck with it. This means you have to sew some backing on your Velcro.

Escape Loop I have so much Velcro on the spraydeck waist that I worried the original pull loop wouldn’t free me so I had Eric Parsons sew another loop on. This ripped off ehen I grabbed it on some NZ river when I was upside down and freaking out about being swept over the next Class IV+ rapid. So that needs some more work.

Wear and Tear The thigh-strap generated wear at the feet seems to be easily -- and literally -- patched. I got the biggest hole of the trip not at the feet, but when a small gravel pebble slipped between the tube and the bottom deck and wore a ¼ inch hole in the floor before I found it. A future mod may be to take a strip of fabric and glue it around the tube-floor contact area to prevent accumulation of wear-inducing sand/gravel there.

Another mod I’d really like to do is to urethane the bottom and the sides. However, this requires some aggressive fabric treatment and I need to get fabric to test first. It will add more weight to the boat, but for creeking, this weight will make the boat far more durable. I am willing to go to just under ten pounds with a boat. That’s the ceiling for me.

Drying Gear and Boats On the subject of ounce-wise and pound-foolish, it’s really worth it before carrying your boat after boating to dry it thoroughly. This means all your wet clothes too. NZ and Wyoming and Mexico are awesome for drying gear with their sunshine and dry air. When Forrest McCarthy’s doing multi-day trips, he plans his days to end with a boating session and start with a hike, giving him time to dry out the boat. Gordy Vernon likes to stop early enough that his boat dries so he can sleep on it. By the way, with thigh straps you can get a boat bigger than you’d normally use and so it’s long enough to sleep on. My Yak is uncomfortable but my Super-Llama is SUPER for sleeping – it even fits inside my tent.

Like most boaters, I take my throw rope and wrap it round and round with a no-knot on two trees then hang my clothes, LJ, and other wet stuff to dry. Scott Solle says to turn dry-suits inside out and dry them that way and I like that ‘cause it keeps from getting so stinky. I also remove the thigh straps and hang them from the throw rope to dry. Because my Super-Llama has Velcro seat and backrest, I pull those out and inflate them and babysit them in the sun as they dry, while I take the deflated boat and hang that as follows to drip dry first.

Drying the Boat. First I take the uninflated boat and fold it from bow to stern with the bottom floor inside the fold so the inside of the boat is facing out, to allow the water to drain. The water will pool inside where the tubes meet the floor so I pull on the tubes to make it so that the water drains freely and the seam of tube-floor is visible at the fold in the boat. Then I hang this boat that’s folded inside out from the “chicken lines” at the bow and stern so the inside water drains freely out.

Later, I inflate the boat and dry it in the sun, rotating and baby-sitting the boat so it doesn’t get over-inflated by the sun and being sure to get all the moisture out. I stand it on end and use a sponge to get the inside water that didn’t drain during the initial inside-out, folded, hang-dry described above.

All the money you spent on superlight stuff doesn’t matter if the gear is soaked with water, so take the time to dry your stuff before you travel. Your back, feet, and nose will be thankful you did.

More on Paddles A bunch of us bought Werner Powerhouse Paddles in a 4-piece. It has a really large blade area and a few times in NZ I felt – especially when backpaddling in upper Class IV – that it was almost unwieldy, that it grabbed too much water. On the other hand my old Shuna didn’t grab enough water. As for length, I have said this many times before, but if you are moved forward by thighstraps and repositioned seat, a shorter paddle (mine is 197 cm) is easier to use especially in the narrow confines of low water creeking. If you are paddling flat water and kicked back in your boat without thigh straps a long paddle (I like 215 cm) is better.

Back to Ounce-wisdom and Pound-foolishness I am curious why people carry the big fat NRS straps with the honkin buckles? These straps are made for lashing coolers to big rafts and hardshells to roof-tops, not gear to packrafts. Why not get a lightweight, ladder-buckle strap at REI? Similarly, why are people using 1 inch tubular webbing on bow and/or stern as lines for lining? That stuff is twice as thick as needed and soaks up water like a sponge and takes ages to dry out. Those ladder-buckle straps work best (if it helps convince you, these are what Hig and Erin use). And while I am ranting, I am also baffled by the idea of using carabiners to clip dry bags to the tie downs. Carabiners seem not only heavy, but don’t make the load fast (in that it still slops around and your load is better if it’s super static). More importantly if they are not locking, then they sometimes grab things they shouldn’t (like branches) and could actually grab you by a lose loop on your clothing (think drawstrings, shoelaces).

Anyway, these are some thoughts, observations, and experiences I thought I’d share while I have an audience who’s interested.

(Photos by and/or of Gavin Mulvay -- Thanks Gav!)

Upper Hokitika: Satisfaction

Kayaker scorn for packrafts crosses international borders and communication media. You pick it up on forums like “Mountain Buzz” where comments from posters hiding behind names like “super_narnar” or “badass*boofmaster” range from “What’s wrong with a kayak?” to “They look like a sh*tty IK to me.”

But in NZ, at Murchison and Hokitika, the scorn was shocking. I’d thought Kiwis to be open-minded and progressive. And many are. Curiously, it’s often the young kayakers and the original paddling explorers -- the latter who’d traveled the world and run rivers before it was cool, those who’d read John Mackay’s “Wild Rivers” classic about building rafts using packed-in inner-tubes and wood to make first descents of NZ’s biggest rivers 40 years ago – who get it, and respected it. They might not want to paddle a packraft, perhaps, but they find them full of potential in a country where tracks parallel every backcountry river and “burn” (Scottish for creek) and the huts lighten the load making room for boats.

The worst reactions came from the hard-core, gnar-gnar paddling, thirty-somethings and the middle-age kayakers who’d been at it awhile. From them: frowns and open scorn and maybe even a tinge of disgust. I’ve come to expect what many packrafters call “kayaker attitude”, a certain blend of arrogance and disrespect that turns many of us off to kayakers, something early, telemarking “pinheads” must have felt for alpine skiers back in the day. Which is too bad, as we packrafters can learn a lot from kayakers – and indeed have. I am thinking here of Paul Schauer, Thai Verzone, and Tim Johnson in particular, kayakers who get in packrafts and wear grins on Class IV, sharing with the rest of us their skills and knowledge of rivers and creeks. In contrast, there are the middle-aged kayakers who get in the butt-boats wearing an expression like the family dog wears during its annual bath, a sort of “what-am-I-doing-here” and “when-can-I-get-out” look.

Having paddled over a month in thigh straps I can attest that a lot of that sad-dog look is due to the sloppy-loafer feel of a packraft compared to the tight-glove fit of a hard-shell. But when it comes to the arrogant, self-righteous, fascist group, with their know-it-all theoretical insight based on zero experience in packrafts -- well, I find it particularly satisfying to prove their confident predictions dead wrong.

The Arahura River had been a creek run for me – my choice of style. It had a hike-in and a camp-out with both of us in butt-boats. The Upper Hokitika would be a steep creek (over 260 feet/mile for a mile and a half), kayak run for Tim. It would require helicopter access (about US $100 each) as its half-dozen sheer gorges interspersed by slip-fed (slips are active landslides) boulder drops preclude any trails or even routes through the steep-sided canyon. One could hike in over mountains upstream – and one day I hope to -- but the technicality of the run makes carrying even a small overnight load in a packraft by an intermediate Class IV boater like me just too challenging. And, I admit, the novelty of a helo run in a packraft did appeal.

Unfortunately I had to put up with four arrogant kayakers while waiting for the helicopter to show up and four more at two of the portages above must-run rapids in the Hoki’s bowels. And then there was the email comment from one of Tim’s friends who said basically that the Hoki "was no place for a packraft and if you were to take one in, be sure to pack some overnight gear." So I brought along a stick of pepperoni, a wool hoody, head net, and bug dope in case I got stuck and had to hike out. Tim brought his hard-shell since he didn’t fancy hitting his tail-bone again.

“What have you guys been doin?” asked Mr. Cool. It’s the standard way to gauge a boater here on the West Coast, where some of the hardest and most dangerous rivers in the world carve steeply off the Southern Alps through sheer-walled canyons and sieved-out slip drops.

Tim told him, the Arahura.

“Oh yea, mate, the Upper Hokitika’s nothing like the Arahura,” said blonde Mr. Cool in his shades and body armor wetsuit top. His tone wrapped “what the f*ck are you clowns doing here?” around the implicit warning.

As he bundled the paddles for the flight in, he couldn’t hold back his scorn any longer and blurted, “Who’s got the split paddle!”

I didn’t bother answering him. What did it matter: he already knew it all.

Poor, sweet, modest, Class V paddling Tim. He had his hardshell. And he had the experience and skills to run this test-piece. But here he was, suffering contact scorn for being around the likes of me. Maybe it’s my sort of frowny face, big nose, nasal voice, unkempt hair. Maybe it’s wearing long pants over my 1996-vintage dry-suit and adventure racing shoes, my plastic rafter’s helmet -- in addition to my paddle and boat.

The helo arrived and the bad-boys sprinted to it.

“Wow, what’s wrong with those guys? They act like their going to a funeral.”

Quite likely they expected me to die and wanted to get as far away as fast as possible from the epic they knew was sure to happen. They wanted no part of my swims, my junk show, my carnage, my unplanned bivouac in the button-down brush above sheer, polished gorges.

By the time we landed in the little two-passenger 'copter, all six other kayaks, making up three pair-wise groups, were far downstream. Looking below at the first drop I could see them scouting, portaging, racing to keep ahead of us.

We paddled off, admiring a Blue Duck, a long thin waterfall, a shady glen.

“Let ‘em go. We’re better off doing our own thing,” said Tim.

He was right. First off we didn’t need them. Our skills and our judgment were sufficient. Second, it seemed that they were in a hurry, trying to get down as fast as possible. And from my adventure racing days I knew that the best races are your own, where nobody else’s pace matters. Besides, Tim and I weren’t racing: we were just trying to make it down with safe satisfaction.

The first drop was really a double drop. The top one tall, the lower one on a corner.

“You should pull into the eddy below the first drop and then drive sideways over the second so you don’t get caught in the pocket hole.”

I disregarded Tim’s instructions. It looked doable and fun to link them both. It looked like there was room to make the 'snicker-snack', paddle-jab-pivot, and I nearly did, but misjudging the power of the current sent me off-line by a foot and shoved me into the pocket hole, upside down.

Holding onto boat and paddle I waited to surface, but instead found myself inside blue gloom and doom, shoved beneath a boulder. Realizing my predicament I pushed backwards out of the cave and clawed for the surface, dropping my paddle in the process, but managing to clamber on top of the rock that moments before had trapped me.

Above Tim was hidden and unable to help because of a huge overhanging boulder.

“I’m OK! My paddle! Get my paddle!”

The paddle floated away, slid off the next drop, cruised toward shore, then somehow hung up at the brink of another drop.

Tim ran and retrieved it while I caught up on some recently missed oxygen.

Tim wrapped the rope around a log and tossed me down an end with a carabiner that I clipped to myself for back-up. Then he belayed while I scrambled, using the rope as a hand-line to get over the bulge.

“You were right about that corner. I got shoved under a rock. Pretty f*in scary. I’m going to walk a while.”

I boulder-hopped down to where the Funeral Party had recently scouted. I put back in, running a number of fun mid-boat to boat-length drops for an hour or so, walking past the collapsed 'Viagra Falls', a massive mess of sievy boulders.

About an hour and a half after our put-in we caught the Funeral Party portaging the entrance falls to the First Gorge, a mini one and a taste of what was to come.

Seeing my boat, two kayakers from the early group of four, whom we hadn’t yet met, smiled and laughed, perhaps appreciating how easy it was to portage the steep boulders beside crashing falls with a packraft. Taking Tim's boat across a channel, I realized that kayakers are really burly people. They paddle their boats in places they simply mustn’t swim and carry them in places where they mustn’t fall. They are true bad-asses.

But the bad-asses hurriedly seal launched into the gorge pool below and paddled away, leaving without so much as a wave hello or good-bye. Again I was reminded of teams in an adventure race, wanting to drop the clowns in back who so obviously didn’t belong.

“I’ve never really met kayakers like that before,” said Tim.

Twenty minutes later, we caught them again, portaging into the Second Gorge with its series of must-do and partially blind rapids. This section of the Upper Hokitika had recently changed making the guidebooks suggestion of a ferry to river right and portage past an enormous boulder obsolete. Now it was drop into an 'L-Bow' turn and watch for the hole at the end, paddling between overhung boulders and a sheer gorge wall.

The Funeral Crew fully ignored us here, especially Mr. Cool who was worked his still-cam for the keenest photo possible while the others studied the line from every possible angle, which summed to exactly two: very high and directly above.

The Funeral Six studied the rapid with such seriousness, ignoring me as if I was certain to die, that their mood was contagious and I was soon sick with dread. I looked up and wondered how long it would take for me to bushwack along the rim and back to the river. I wondered, too, if I threw up if I’d feel any better.

No words of encouragement, none of warning. Nothing. Like I was a ghost. Five of them treated us as if we were nothing more than soft boulders in their way.

There was one guy, a Kiwi in a white helmet who was actually nice and talked to me. "That giant boulder down there," he pointed to a green, house-sized rock siting on another rock, "was rotated 25 degrees, changing this whole section."

After the Funeral Crew had paddled through, one taking the next rapid below backwards, Tim said, “I’m glad they’re gone. Their mood’s even bringing me down!”

That was bad. Tim’s an eternally upbeat guy.

I was surprised that none had offered us any safety, that once again they hurried off to leave us. They hadn’t even given us the chance to say, “Heh, look. You don’t need to wait for us. We can take care of ourselves.”

“I dunno what’s up with these guys. They don’t seem to have any river ethics. Most kayakers aren’t like this”

“It’s me and the packraft.”

Anyway, we made it down 'L-Bow' and the next three must-do rapids satisfyingly and it was adventure boating at its best. This Second Gorge's three must-do rapids are stacked back to back, and it was a must to do them with Tim. He told me the “L-Bow” turn entrance would actually be easier in a packraft. He ran it and signaled me to follow, warning me off the sucking sieve to the left after passing the house-sized boulder that teetered overhead. Next we scouted for a way to avoid the main flow forcing us into an undercut.

I pointed out a ferry that looked packraftable and Tim ran it, hopped out of his boat on a huge, flat boulder with only inches of cuurent flowing over it, and hooked his foot in his boat's cockpit as he set safety for me.

To the right was the meat feeding the undercut beast; to the left a blind drop; in the middle a wood sieve pinned against a boulder sieve. Must-make moves in a sheer walled room of horrors.

The next blind drop went fine into a circulating pit that Tim let me circle in my boat a few times before fishing me out.

Then three big drops led into a long pool set below the narrowest section of the Second Gorge -- gorgeous!

Almost immediately after leaving the Second Gorge we found two waterfalls that both of us portaged, but Tim said they were both runnable, one upstream and one downstream of another hotel-sized rock, this one we portaged over. It was neat adventure boating here, too.

Below these came a big slidy drop leading into the Third Gorge. This third one began with some ugly sieves, then a must-do blind corner in its middle. The Third Gorge opened up to some easy rapids leading into the highlight of the Upper Hokitika, the Gates of Argonath.

All of this ran pretty much back to back. We’d put-in at 11 AM, caught the Funeral Crew around quarter to one at the First Gorge and again 20 minutes later at the Second Gorge. They were long gone by the time we got through the Second Gorge at quarter to three. We’d spent a lot of time fretting over the must-do lines, two of which made me nauseated with fear – what I call “dread”. Dread returned in the Third Canyon at its must-do blind corner which we finally paddled at 4:30 and reached the fabled Gates of Argonath five minutes later, with its vertical boulder choked narrows and waterfall framing the three foot width of this Fourth Gorge. Half an hour later we’d dropped the last Class IV in the final Fifth Gorge above the intermediate Lower Hokitika run and its Kakariki Canyon.

The intermediate run has a sheer but gentle gorge with amazing water carved sides. We coasted in its gentle current, talking.

“It’s been alright without the Funeral Crew around. I wonder what got a bee in their bonnet? Must have been the packraft.”

“Yea, and those town pants over your dry suit, plus your split paddle. What you need is to pull out a round red clown nose, put it on, and lighten them all up.”

That seems like a good idea. I’m going to get a bozo nose to keep handy in my LJ pocket, ready at a moment’s notice to diffuse the “this-guy-in-his-boat’s-a-clown” attitude I seem to encounter too often -- even here on my own blog and in the Alpacka Forum!

“I think the video you make of this run should be called ‘Proof of Concept’. You just packrafted a West Coast test-piece.”

“I don’t really feel like I ran it. I swam three times and portaged a bunch of stuff.”

“Maybe so, but you swam in Class II and made all the must-do moves. I’d say you did it.”

Yea maybe so, Tim, but I’d already decided that the video of the Upper Hoki wouldn’t be about packrafts. It’d be a tribute to Tim Johnson, a big "Thank-You" to Tim for watching out for me and paddling the classic West Coast creek, not to test himself, but to help me find my way.

We reached the Whitcombe by 6 PM and the take-out below the tourist swing bridge by 7. Under the rental car’s windshield wiper was a note: “Call if you get out before dark.”

I guess more than one kayaker had a heart after all.

Here's Tim's video version:

Why a "Guard Rail" is worth installing on your packraft

This video is of a kayaker in a long, high-water swim in Idaho.

If you are considering gluing thigh strap patches into your boat think about putting more patches to encircle your boat and attach a "guard rail". It may save your life.

Mike Swims & Almost Drowns from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

A similar incident could happen with a packrafter on rivers here in AK or elsewhere: it's worth watching.

I take two lessons from it:

(1) This kayaker was unable to roll. Most of us will inevitably fall out of our boats, too. What do you have to hang onto your boat with? Consider putting six additional tie-down patches around your boat and tying onto each with a poly-pro hand-line. Don't rely on bungies stretched through the four, stock, bow patches or a dragging tail of webbing from the stern. You want what Brad calls a "guard rail" to encircle your boat. When you flip, you can just reach up and grab it from any point on the boat and it will feel so much better than the fat, slippery tube. Take it from a guy who's swum more rivers and creeks after falling out of his packraft than likely anyone. If you can't/won't glue the patches on yourself, then ask Alpacka or a local shop to do it. Alpacka really should do it on all their boats.

(2) One difference between packrafts and inflatable kayaks and hardshells and big rafts/catarafts is that we packrafters can flip our craft and get back in. This is a self rescue, and after the glue dries on your guard rail, get out there and practice getting into and out of your boat, preferably in moving water, but even in the deep end of a pool is valuable. Again, the unfortunate level of experience I have, due to the high frequency of falling out of my boat, suggests that the side-entry boats with codpieces are harder to self-rescue into than the old center entry. If you have an old center entry boat, don't send it back to Alpacka for a retro fit. Watch this blog here: I will soon post how-to make your old center entry boat dry.

When Packrafts are for Real Boaters

Over on the Alpacka Forum “Esben” posted a response to Tim Johnson’s Roll where he referenced “Paddling Regression”s comments on thigh straps:

Esben said,

“…we should not forget what Paddling Regression said in the thigh strap thread:

Paddling Regression wrote: ‘In a packraft, at least IMO, they seem like more than is necessary even at the upper end of whitewater. IMHO if you feel you need thigh straps you should probably think about improving your technique or further developing your skills. Weather it be reading the water better and seeing the clean lines and hitting them or simply spending more time in the raft, one needs to have skills. Given their design, there are just certain things that will be difficult no matter what you do. eg big holes on big water. These things are already about as idiot proof as it gets. Don't get me wrong, there are probably a hand full of people that could really push what is possible in a packraft with thigh straps, but for most it will simply be a substitute for skill and ultimately not help them in the long run. In fact I'd be willing to bet that most packrafters would not be able to roll a raft even if they were glued into the thing. It is certainly more difficult than a kayak by a long shot. Not to mention much harder on one's shoulders as well.’

Although vastly appreciating the benefits of it, I agree, the addition of this feature will distract from the simplicity, the core idea of packrafting.”

First off, idle speculation and opinion is not as valuable as first hand experience. Not sure exactly what Paddling Regression is running in his packraft, but having seen more than a dozen people in Class IV up to 5000cfs, I can tell you that these thigh straps are going to give all of us a much better time on whitewater. Bandersnatching will not be as nasty. Lateral waves, a frequent bane, may be more tolerable. Boofing will be easier, turning, carving and bracing much more effective.

My feeling, having only limited experience – like two minutes – in Tim's beefy thigh straps is that it’s like putting on rock shoes after climbing in mountain boots, like running in lace-ups vs. crocks. Sure we all need to improve our technique and further develop skills, but boy when I put on rigid crampons for the first time I was able to go where I’d not gone before, places even Yvon’s flatfooted French technique in flexible crampons coudn't have got Gaston Rebuffat.

As far as big holes in big water, these thigh braces may well give you the ability to muscle through them – now you have something to lever against, a way to hold onto your boat besides pushing with feet and back and using your paddle like a tripod.

Yes, Regression is probably right, most of us may not be able to roll the thing “even if glued into” it, but the control that the thigh straps give you will be sufficient to justify the 8 ounces or so of additional weight.

As for the core idea of packrating, I’d opine that the core idea is versatility divided by simplicity. Packrafts are the most versatile craft out there, by far. We all know you can fly around the world for long wilderness trips, battle your way down big rapids, thread your way down local congested creeks, cross icy fjords, pack bikes or game – all in the same boat. Thigh straps will not detract from that versatility. They may well enhance all of that, and they are removable. If you want simplicity, you can paddle an open boat without a seat, you’ll just be wetter, colder, and more out of control than a seated boat with a deck and thigh straps, and the boat will weigh under five pounds rather than seven.

Hig and Erin style flatwater likely does not need straps (but I don’t know as I generally avoid flat, dead water). Looking for caribou on easy water or long wilderness trips on canoe-style rivers, no straps needed – although they might make portages quicker using them as shoulder straps. But Grand Canyon? Steep creeks? You bet. I will swim far less often with these in my boat.

Claiming that “for most it will simply be a substitute for skill and ultimately not help them in the long run” is like saying skiers shouldn’t use fat skis and should learn to ski powder on boards with no side cut; that if you want to rock climb you should learn to hand jam wearing sneakers before you get rock shoes; that you should learn how to make rocky descents on a road bike, sharpening your handling skills that way, before getting fat tires; or that you should climb ice with soft boots and flexile crampons so you learn how to place tools in the right spots and hang from your bones before getting rigid boots and points.

While I am not a kayaker, I sort of doubt that kayakers develop skill and abilities by paddling a long, fiberglass boat with no flotation, no spray skirt, and no wet suit, to really be sure that they can read water and balance their boat and paddle the line before they let the creek boat, helmet, elbow pads, wet suit and all the rest substitute for skill. It’d be a good way to become skilled, but pretty frustrating.

I am continually amazed by how many people have more “HO”s about packrafts than they have time in the boats! The honest opinions about packrafts and self-bailing, about their durability, about their spray decks, about whitewater and big-water, what’s runnable and what’s a tube…. While pioneers are able to enjoy an exciting sense of discovery they also have to endure scorn and speculation.

But, you know, it’s worth it.