Last year I spent the majority of my 3 months stay in Chile in Patagonia, and a considerable amount of that south of the Futaleufu. This river is for most regarded as “south”, and we do not see a lot of the hucksters of the north making the trip. And if so, the Futaleufu is normally just the training ground for groups taking on the famous Rio Baker, another day or two of driving on the Carretera Austral.

The drive down to Villa O´higgins is spectacular, with the northen Icefield descending into view as on the other side of the now meandering rio Baker. Upon arriving to Puerto Yungay, the ferry crossing of Fiordo Mitchell signals the return of the wilderness. In this area, one does not see kayakers. Since last year, when we used Villa O´higgins as a base for two weeks, only one more group of kayakers came down to run the Rio Bravo. And the rivers are endless, but they require a lot more work. As good as park and hucks are, to me, the exploration of wild rivers is where the essence of kayaking lies.

The idea of 2012 was to cross Lago Christie and Lago Allegre, from a newly built road into the first. This would put us back at the first descent put-in of 2006, and allow for 5 days on the water, and a possibility to hike up to the headwaters to check out the remains of the gradient. It requires a paddle of about 25-30 kilometers, and a short hike in between the lakes. To our dismay, we were one day too late. Ahead of us by one day, a crew had successfully crossed the lake and found their personal heaven in the deep canyons of the Bravo. Upon arriving at Lago Christie, we were facing a wind that had turned to headwind, and was blowing up to 40 kms/hour steadily, with ghasts up to 80 km/hour. It did not turn or back down for the next week.

Defeated by the “Escoba del Dios”, the “Broom of God”, which sweeps away all sins and sorrows according to the Patagonians, we were looking for another option. The rivers were low, lower than last year, but not quite low enough it would turn out.

Ron Fischer (SUI) has been peering onto maps of a border area to the south of Lago Christie for the past year, tracing a blue line flowing from Lago Nansen in Argentina. In a flurry of first descents one year ago, we also tried to hike in to scout the Rio Carrera, but got turned around by unfriendly border patrollers that allowed nobody into the area due to two recent deaths. A car had tried to cross the river, with fatal consequences, and the last thing the red-haired capitan wanted was gringos out on an adventure.

Late in the afternoon, after our failed visit to Lago Christie, we arrived without much hope for passage, at the same border station. To our surprise the patrollers were friendly and helpful, even allowing our motorcycle friend, soon to be “Sherpa Nata”, to enter the no-man land between the borders without a passport. Some hours later we returned to Villa O´higgins, with some glimpses of the river, and an agreement with the local farmer to rent horses for next day. What we had been able to see from the brim of the canyon, was swift flowing current without many eddies, but with a mesmerizing turquoise color surrounded by flashes of autumn yellow and red. Stunning. The river drops 350 meters in 14 kilometers from Lago Nansen, flowing through three box canyons and in general being tucked away in a deep, v-shaped river valley. Simply wanting it, I ignored Ron´s worried looks as he was trying to obtain some secret information about the box canyons by staring at the maps that evening with local hostal owner Jorge. Surely we would be able to see more of the river on our way up to the lake, allowing us to turn around if deemed to steep. I was wrong.

The following day we started hiking without horses. The campesino claimed he could not find them on his 200 hectar big backyard, and without much hesitation we rigged our kayaks onto our backs. The first major mistake of the trip came when we decided to try for a shortcut over the hills, instead of following the river. The second mistake came when we assumed we could still get down to the river to scout from this alternative hiking route. And of course, I should have known better after having battled the Patagonia bush before. Two days later we had still not reached the lake, and an unexpected deep sidecreek had forced us down to river level, only 2 kilometers short of Lago Nansen. The hike had been tough, with rugged terrain and at times, dense bush. Other times we found ourselves hiking through a dreamlike forest lit on fire by the fall colors, and fresh snow was capping the peaks all around us. After looking at our limited food supply, we decided to put-on.

Our friend, Nathaniel Thorpe, had decided to join us for a hike. Being “Sherpa Nata”, we had been spared the weight of sleeping bags and tent on the hike, now it all got placed into our Watershed drybags and good byes were being said. He would backtrack out to civilization while we were on the river. Except that we only made it about 500 meters before the door slammed shut in our faces. The first box canyon was wild. To big ledges led into a Baker-style rapid with no way of escape or even scouting the coming blind corner. It was quite simple, there was too much water in the river. Defeated, we tied the kayaks to a tree, marked the GPS location and shouldered our bags. From the riverbed, the climb back out to our previous hiking route would take days with the kayaks in the steep, bushy terrain.

It took us one day to hike out without the kayaks, and we arrived at the border control somewhat defeated. I expected trouble upon entering back into Chile, seeing that we had not entered Argentina, due to the location of their border station. However, the chilenos

only took a look at our rugged appearance and wondered if we had had a good hiking trip, and welcomes us back for next year, as they stamped our arrival stamps back to Chile in our passports. With two kayaks tied to a tree in the middle of the nowhere, I guess we no choice. The river carries the least water in may, and provides the only chance it seems to get through its canyons. At least, we do not have to hike our kayaks back in there the next time…

Thanx to Teva, Sweet, Kober Paddles, NR

S, Five Ten and Vertikal AS for supporting our adventures!

Mariann

After a snowy winter in Switzerland, and a great time in the Caribbean teaching kayaking, I was once again back in my paradise on the shores of the Futaleufu river in Chile.

We spent two weeks paddling, horsebackriding, building, making furniture for the cabin etc, and was blessed with sunshine all around. It was an amazing time with good friends, and the place is looking better and better every year. Ron´s carpentry skills definitely come in handy, even if he swears over chilean tools and ways once in a while!

Three days of driving has put us in Villa O´higgins, at the end of the Carretera Austral. Ron and myself will today paddle into Lago Christie, hike over a pass and drop into Lago Alegre. This was our put-in during the first descent of the rio Bravo in 2006, when we used a floatplane to get in. At the confluence with the Bravo we will shoulder our boats and walk upstream, to see what lies in the headwaters of the river. Depending on what we find, we should be back out in civilization in a weeks time.

See you all then, enjoy the photos from the past two weeks!

Mariann

After a great, snowy winter practising my sking in Switzerland, getting a little bit of a break from the kayaking, I headed to the Caribbean two weeks ago. I love the contrasts of my life!

I am lucky enough to work for www.studyaway.no and the school Høgskolen i Finnmark each spring and fall sememster, teaching kyaking and spanish to norwegian students in the Dominican Republic. Kayaking is only one of the activities they get to try out, there is also surfing, swimming, kiting etc, along with an important amount of community work.

It is really a great experience, which gathers a fine group of people every semester.

It seems like 3-4 students pick up the kayaking very quickly every semester, and it is so nice to be able to introduce more people to this amazing sport. We do two pool-sessions, then one day on the river, and one day in the ocean. In addition, I will throw in some extra roll practises here and there if the students are keen.

When not out in the water with the students, I have been able to go surfing in Playa Encuentro, one of the best surfspots to learn this art form! I have made the step onto the smaller boards, and can even stand up for a few seconds now. :-) I have a great deal of respect for the ocean already, stemming from a lot of surfkayaking, but it is great to experience a new way of playing with the elements.

In addition, I have enjoyed yoga classes in the evenings. This is actually my first time getting proper yoga lessons, and it definitely makes a lot of difference, and I am able to balance poses I never thought I could two weeks ago. 

Both activities have been very fulfilling, as I have watched many sunrises from my surfboard and many sunsets from the lofty rooftop while practising new poses. Both have given me peace of mind and a strong sense of simply being in the moment, appreciating my life, my friends, my surroundings and myself.

I now feel re-vitalized and ready for adventures in Patagonia, starting next week.. Can not wait to paddle, see new rivers, and enjoy the Chilean wilderness once more.. And we have an adventure or two up our sleeves as well.

Mariann

Ever since I got to know Ron he has claimed that 2011/2012 would be the best year ever for snow in Switzerland. I never believed him of course, based on the past two years of hardly any snow in the Alps, and my own general bad luck with the fluffy powder. (It never snows when I am around..) It looked like I was right for a long time, and we were paddling well into december and darker days. 

The Roffla is a comitting, tight, technical and COLD creek that cuts through the eastern swiss mountains like a knife, with sheer granite walls and deep canyons. It also normally does not have water, as it is dammed like so many of the swiss rivers. Kindlly enough the hydrocompany had to do some repairs in december, so the Swiss Ninja-warriors gathered their troops to rally this little, hidden gem. And of course I tagged along. 

It was a cold and steep day, with a few bad lines from yours truly, resulting in some fancy scars on my knuckles. I also realised that the big Remix is not the boat for me in such tight lines, ( I should have known that since I took Shane´s boat down the Ravensfork in North Carolina last year.. ) and that I really do not follow the flow when I am worried about every icy splash of water I get in the face. Nevertheless, I smiled (most of) the entire day, and was stoked to see a hidden corner of the well-known Switzerland. And yeah, the paddling was not class three either. 

But then the snow finally arrived, and it has not stopped snowing since. It seems like I spend half my time shoveling away snow from my old trusty van, or digging out the front door, and the other half of the day buried deep in my medieval books of latin and old scandi-languages. (yeah, trying to finish up a master thesis in history..) We can hardly see out of the kitchen window because of the snow, and the amount of powder we have been shredding the past month is just ridiculous.

Not that I am a good skier. I have done two or three half seasons since I stopped snowboarding 13 years ago, and some random days here and there. But it seems like I get motivated by the snow just like the water, it is fun to charge! Hence I try and follow the boys in the backcountry, with horrendous style, but a lot of willpower to go fast and take chances.

I always knew Ron was a good snowboarder, not at least since he has been on the Swiss national team for Boardercross until he broke his back one time too many, but I actually did not think he was this good. Shredding steep lines at huge speed, flying off cliffs and pillows, and then even being a good skier. Seeing him getting more and more confident on his board this past month has only inspired me to get better on my two skiis as well, as there is no way I am gonna have him and Lukas complaining about having to wait for me! :-) Cheers to the guys for helping me see the lines in the backcountry, I am definitely a class three skier still.. 

Enjoy some random photos of the fall and winter season here in Snowy Swiss Wonderland! 

Mariann

The Apurimac flows hastily from Nevado Mismi (5597 mts) in the region of Arequipa in southern Peru. Hurrying on its way to the jungle, it is the source of the Amazon river, the world´s largest river system. On its way it travels through countless canyons, deeply embedded into the Andes mountains. At times these canyons are twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, and as it turned out, I happened to be paddling through those profound realms just a month ago.

There are no crazy waterfalls on the Apurimac, no huge slides to bomb down, nor are there any ”deepest canyon of the world” to pass through. Unless you belive the rafting companies of course. It is not the place where you set up a fancy camera and shoot one rapid for hours on end, and you don´t even do lapses on a rapid even if it was fun as hell. Though, as soon as you  mention to any of the locals that you are going to run the Abissmo de Acombamba their eyes narrow. There are so many stories, rumours and anticipations about this seldom run three-day section of the Apurimac, it gets you wondering.

At put in, we quietly slid into the water at Banos Ccunoc, the popular hot springs resting at the river side a few kilometers below the normal raft section. We were an internattional team, with Ron Fischer (SUI), Julio Vargas (Peru), Julian Schaefer (GER) and myself, alternating conversations in german, spanish and english. . I think we all realized quickly that something special was about to happen. As this section of river is often referred to as simply ”the Abyss”, I was not surprised to see  the arid mountainsides immideately starting to loom over us like sleeping giants. Paddling in the back of the group, I got a hunch of what was to come as I watched the mountainsides pull closer.

While reading the reports from previous trips the weeks prior to this moment, I had been wondering why we even wanted to go in there. Blind rapids, blind and unportagable box-canyons, huge swims and beatings, giant rapids, rockfalls onto the campspots, huge, intimidating thunder storms, problems with narco trafficking guerillja, and it seemd simply full on in every aspect, not just the whitewater.

As it turned out, it was not just a great idea, it was a freakin great idea! 

Day one was easy-going when it came to the whitewater, even if I found my own little personal vendetta in a sneaky, blind class four. My wrong line took me straight into a nasty pocket-hole, where I ended up grinding my head on a rock underwater and finally bailed. We decided that scouting was in order from then on.

The beauty of the Abyss was from another world, and one that the other missons failed to mention. Even if the whitewater was brilliant, it was the sheer beauty of this place that enchanted me for three days and two nights. The first box canyon was as intimidating as it gets. The walls closed in, there were a few blind chutes to chose from, and even if you thought that your pick was the good one, there really was no way of telling until somebody dropped over the horizon line. The hardest part though was to simply focus on the whitewater, the eddies, the strokes and the river, as I could not stop staring up and down the canyon. Deep, deep and narrow, with the whitewater echoing eerily between the canyon walls. It was dark in there, and powerful.  

At the end of day two we dropped into the steepest section of river. Up until then the whitewater had gotten more and more difficult, and many times I found myself at the bottom of the rapids we had scouted and run, shaking my head and swearing that they just did not look that steep from shore. The lines were technical and blocked, though at least always fair. However, the last few rapids before camp had more of a punch to them, and we knew that day two would be a long one as we pulled into the last campspot before the steepness took over. Five minutes after the tents were up the Abissmo gave us another great show. Huddling under a big boulder we watched in awe as lightning crisscrossed the sky and the thunder rumbled through the canyon, it hailed, then it rained. A lot. Landslides were echoing throughout the night, making us feel even smaller.

Day two started out steep, and blocked. The low water made the rapids less pushy, but at the same time we had less options of where to paddle. Most of the lines involved avoiding huge siphons, ferrying back and forth through messy whitewater, and would have made any Oetz-tal boater the happiest ever. Ron was grinning for about four hours straight, I had my game-face on as I have never in my life seen so many siphons!

Passing under a foot bridge, our friend Julio pointed upwards to the sky, telling us about the ruins of  the inca city of Chocquequirao. It had been protected by its remoteness for centuries, and has often been called ”Machu Picchu´s sacred sister”. I could almost feel hidden eyes following us down the river from those ancient ruins, and I decided that the next time I run this river I will allow two days extra to hike up the trail and get a glimpse of an ancient past.

The second day we camped on the most beautiful campspot ever. A huge boulder sheltered the camp from the elements, and a nice little beach welcomed us as we paddled to shore. Amazingness all around. We woke up to the third blue-bird day, and got on with the quest. Downstream laid the unscoutable canyons we had read about in the online reports, and we anticipated hugeness. Passing a big sidecreek called Quebrada Arma, the river dropped  some good gradient, forcing us to get out and try and scout the exit of the rapid. It was kind of scoutable from the middle, where Ron scrambled on top of some rocks and then pointed out a bony line down the middle. The walls were towering over us, and the atmosphere turned eerie. However, as it turned out, also because of the low waterlevel, it was mostly a nice class four/five paddle the rest of the day, through more of the amazingly deep canyons that allow notthing or anybody to escape.

Arriving at Puente Pasajes we did not even wait five minutes before the taxi we had hired from Cusco came cruising down the marginal road. It has taken the driver 12 hours.. Four boats and six people jammed into the little car, and of course there was no roofrack so we strapped everything down the cowboy-way. (lots of throwbags, some carabiners and a lot of faith..) The drive back involved crossing a 3000 meter high pass, and as I peeked back into the canyons of the Abyss from the ridge, I realised just how far away from anything we had been. No big missons of filming, no new crazy first descent, just simply four people out on a little adventure in one of the most beautiful places on the planet.  

It has been a long time dream to go to Peru. However, as it turned out Ron and myself only could find the time to go just as our friends were busy hucking waterfalls in Mexico, or wrapping up the World Championships in rafting in Costa Rica. A tad sad for this fact, we landed in Lima, mid-day, a few weeks back.

Not two days later were we heading to the first river of choice, the almighty rio Paucartambo. Getting up at 04.30 AM to catch the bus, we stumbled into the busy little town of Paucartambo at ten in the morning. With crowds of curious kids watching our gear we got our last taste of civilization in form of coffee, before the entire town waved us farewell as we put on. Ahead of us was no less than 250 kms of riverbed, with about 247 km of whitewater. The goal: The Amazon jungle. Starting at about 2500 meters above sealevel, we would end the trip at about 450 meters...

The days passed by all too quickly. We would rise with the birds at 05.00 AM, drink coffee, enjoy the mornings, the surroundings and eachothers company til 08.30 on the dot, when tent, sleepingbags, food and equipment was packed in the kayaks. Then we would paddle till about 15.00 or 16.00, until we found another amazing campspot. Two hours later, as dark descended, we would be in bed, firmly asleep by 19.00 PM.

Having come straight from the Oktoberfest mayhem in Munich, where I work as a waitress every year, I was in a state of awe as we paddled our way through the immensly deep canyons of the Paucartambo. There were just so much whitewater! The Orange canyon with its amazingly colored rocks, blocked rapids and eerie atmosphere was impressive, and by far the most remote experience of the trip. Day four saw us encounter the last challenging canyon with amazing, big water rapids, the last not being portageable, but too much fun to run. We ran rapids that could have been found on the middle Oetz, there were sneak lines, big lines, small drops, bigger ones, and above everything, an amazing amount of stacked class four with no flatwater. For days. Some times I felt like I had just gotten on the whitewater train, and was steering my kayak down these amazing read-n-run boulderchocked rapids for hours and hours, lost in the automatic movements of avoiding one pour-over, then the next one, then the next rock, then boofing one hole, then another etc etc etc..

A landslide provided an extra amount of adrenaline towards the end of the trip. The mud had blocked the riverbed, and created a steep, intense and muddy rapid. The real challenge laid in crossing the fresh mud, as we both sank threateningly deep as we tried to cross the mud-field of about 250 meters width.

Finally reaching the confluence with the rio Urubamba, we could not agree on which method to use to try and get back to civilization. Hitch a ride on the newly created road on the other side of the Urubamba (though there was no traffick), or stay by the riverbed till we could get a ride in a local lancha. (a 15 meter long open canoe with an engine that would carry the natives up the river to the small jungle town of Ivochote) The local farmer at take-out, while giving me a great tour of his property, told us there were hardly any lanchas running these days..Hence, we dragged boats up to the road, sat there for a while and missed the one lancha that did go by. A bit grudgy we hauled our boats back down to the river, eventually successful in flagging down the next one that went by a few hours later.

The trip took us 8 days in total, and was one of the most amazing trips I have ever done. If you go to Peru, it is more than a must, as this river is a worldwide classic.

Mariann

What a crazy month! After the World Championships in Bratislava, I found myself workin in Hofbrauhaus in Munich, once again making money from beerthirsty peole at the famous Oktoberfest. It is a struggle to work there, with 14 hours of work every day for 17 days, but in the end the money is worth it.

Ron and myself packed the kayaks and headed to Peru last thursday. After a cancelled flight from Friedrikshafen, whereupon Lufthansa simply put us on a train that does not accept kayaks to Frankfurt, (we managed to get them onboard anyways), we could sit down in the airplane that would take us to Lima, Peru. Once at the airport, we bought a flight to Cusco (leaving in a few hours), made our way to a hostal and found the National Geographic Institue that provided us with topo-maps of the rivers we plan to run. Good!

As long as we can get the kayaks on the flight this afternoon, we should be heading out on a 8-10 day self-support rivertrip through the magnificent Andes mountains from Monday on...

To follow us, click on this link...

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0paTYCs3yxmlaqhydN4mMCqzTltDqp790

Cheers!

In august Ron and myself packed the van and headed north. It is like having an inner compass: While being in the southern hemisphere I always long for the south, like the harsh and still unexplored regions of southern Patagonia, and in the northern hemisphere I always turn my head north. Less people, less civilization, more rivers and a lot to explore.

The first stop was Hattfjelldal, the southern centre for kayaking in the north. On the drive we observed the anticipated low waterlevels, and excitedly met up with Benjamin Hjort at the fabolous campspot at Unkervatnet. The first day we scraped down the Unkerdalselva, then peered onto the map to find a put-in for the lower stretch of the Susna that none of us had run before, with a take-out at the confluence with the Unkerdalselva.

The Susna itself is a classic pool-drop river with majestic whitewater and trolls hidden along the shore. Dropping into the lower canyon we had no idea just how good of an idea it really was… About three hours later we stood at the confluence with the Unkerelva, and grinned like we had just got our hands into the candy-jar. The first canyon of the lower section sported only one portage, and one amazing tripple combo that unfortunately my boat ran on its own, while we stood on shore and watched. Definitely the trolls pushed it in, as I swear I placed it safely on shore! After all the years of making fun of others losing their kayaks into the river, I now found myself scrambling downstream for mine..  Luckily it pinned itself nicely on a rock just above the next slide, and I could join Benji and Ron once again on the river.

After a lull in the river, we headed into the lower canyon with the evening sun ligthing up the tight lines. A New-Zealandish section, with blocked rapids, big sieves, tight lines and an intense last combo kept us on our toes. The last rapid involved threading a half meter wide line between two pocket holes, riding the dragon´s fin into the eddy, then turning around and ferrying in front of a housesize sieve. For a norwegian, not being used to siphons it was nerve-wrecking, while Ron barely noticed the nastiness, ferrying across and boofing the hole around the corner with ease. Sometimes I wish my arms were also two meters long, as I almost missed the ferry.. It is a good thing that my forward strokes at least are getting better from the slalom training! Above the next slot Benjamin performed once again one of those insane Spiderman moves where he catches the tiny eddy that really is not an eddy, on the lip of the horizon line, holding his pelicase (with camera gear worth about four thousand dollars) between his teeth, then managing to find tiny fingergrips up the polished rock face and of course, gives us the thumbs up. After all, how would he be able to give us a complex description using handsignals while clinging onto the wall? After all the years of paddling with Benjamin, I am still amazed by his willpower and drive on the river, his good spirits and amazing ability to always make me nervous with a “thumbs up”… ;-)

Emerging on the other side we knew we had just found white gold. With a flow of 26 cumecs on the Susna gauge, this section did not need a centimetre more, flowing at a perfect level. The normal section of the river is good at 40-50 cumes, so the lower abyss is a no-go most of June and July. The day after we got on the Fiplingdalselva, with a tight crew of Jakub Sedivy, Dag Sandvik, Simon Westgarth, Benji, Ron and myself, and enjoyed a 20 km run down to the confluence with the Susna. The put-in slide and take-out drop were both the highlights, though the river flows through amazing canyons with beautiful whitewater.

Ron and myself took a little time-out and headed to the western fjord of Tjongsfjorden, 2 hours from the other whitewater mecca; Mo i Rana. An hour ferry which crosses the Arctic circle puts you back on the coastline ten minutes from a little piece of paradise that I bought last year. 600 squaremeters of dark trees, a shore line littered with seashells, troll-rocks and the most amazing view in Norway made us stay for two days, enjoying the few days of summer. Now, this property does not sport a river like my Soria-Moria on the Futaleufu in Chile, but it is situated 500 meters from the open ocean and provides a different peace of mind.

We spent the day lazily sun-tanning and fishing. The man was rather worried fishing, due to the size of the fish swimming two meters from shore! In the evening we burned a big bonfire in the dusk summer-night, and I came up with the name for the place: Hildreheim. On warm summerdays "hildring" appears.. An optic illusion that makes objects seem like they float in the air, it is the source for the numerous fairy-tales of a hidden land behind the horizon, that only shows itself in warm summer nights...

.

A glimpse of another world, of the elf-land where lost fishermen sometimes vanish to, it adds to the mysterious tales of the north. The next morning we climbed a nearby peak with breathtaking views of Norway´s second biggest glaciar, situated a rocks throw from my property. This is also where the boys FD´d the Glomåga last year, a three day river that splits the glaciar in two. Needless to say, it is high on my list of rivers to run.

On-route to meet up with Simon Westgarth,Jakub Sedivy, Erica Sprunck, Nini Bondhus and Benji we eddied out for a day scouting 3 first descents for next year. Promising! After paddling through the deep canyons of the lower Løndalselva, flowing north from the arctic circle, I once again stood looking at the immense Laksforsen waterfall, one of Europe´s biggest drops. Having first descented it in 2002, the water had never been low enough since to run the middle line. Now, the water was too low to my liking, exposing the shelfs and rocks in the bottom part of the drop. Ron on the other hand stepped up to the plate and ran a nice line down the center, repeating the line which has only been run three times before. Nice one! 

The northern adventure came to an end with the Laksforsen descent, and we headed back south, though reluctantly. But it was time to leave Norway, to enjoy some time in Switzerland before the Worlds in slalom, Bratislava, and the Octoberfest in Germany.

Mariann

The past months have been full of competitions, the first and biggest being the World Championships in Plattling, Germany. It was a pleasant experience actually, and was a low stress, enjoyable Worlds for once. Pulling through the rounds with slight improvements I landed in an eight place finally, which was within in my goal of top ten. Of course there were the normal up-sets and surprises during the rounds of competition, but it in the end it was great to see the best girl and guy on the day of the finals win their golds.

We drove directly from Plattling to the westcoast of Norway: Voss. I love this week of kayaking, hanging out with good friends, listening to musci in the festival tent at night and of course, competing on one of the most beautiful rivers in Norway: Branset. This year we were 13 girls lining up for the start, and it was exciting as the water levels had been raging all week. For the competition day the level was perfect, and I made it through the first round with some minor mistakes, which put me in top ten men. For the second run I messed up a it more, but still made it in front of the next girl with a combined time of 17 seconds lead.

 The mighty Milkywave also came in due to the high levels, and it was sweeeeet...

For the Sjoa festival the main race is always the prestigous Sweet Rumble down the Åmot gorge. The past five years I have actually won all the rounds through the entire boaterx up until the finals, where I have alwasy messed up the last eddyline. Yeah, I know, it sounds strange, seeing it is my home run and all that. But. This year, the last rapid had changed from a big flood, and we had the goal in a different eddy. Now, that was all it took to brake the curse, and I cruised into first place with many meters to spare in front of the next girl. And finally, all my friends that have rooted for me the past years could cheer with me in the eddy as I claimed the victory.

A few days kayaking on the Rauma and the Laagen Canyon sharpened up the creeking skills.

Now, I am again back in the promised land of northern Norway, and enjoying the water, the sun and the company... Next week Ron and myself will head to my property just outside of Norway´s second biggest glaciar, and take a day or two off from kayaking to explore the region. Then, we meet up again with the boys to run some more classics, and perhaps a new run or two as well...

Even if I never managed to get on the creeks of the famous Ticino area with much water, I was very surprised by the quality of the low volume rivers we paddled this spring. With the guidance of Ron Fischer and Lucas Wielatt among others, I found myself deep in the canyons of the upper Rovana, worknig our way through the mysterious Cannobio, sliding down the famous Ribo and peering into the depths of the Isorno, to mention a few.

It has been a strange spring where I have been sick quite a bit, or had small injuries, so I have found myself on the shore a couple of times, running shuttle for the boys, as the swissies like to get on at least two runs a day. Often feeling a bit faint, I would only do one river a day. Though, the highlights have without doubt been the Isorno and the Upper Rovana.

The Isorno runs deep in a canyon, and requires a bit of legwork to get into, and to get out of. Even with a low waterlevel the rivers was beautiful and intriguing. Continuing past the normal take-out, we ran into a section with a bit more portaging required, the crux (for me) being the jump from a ten meter high cliff into a pool/eddy with a pulse of about 180..  I am not kidding, I hate jumping from cliffs.... The upper Rovana provided me with another challenge, namely an absail into the top canyon, and again, I hate absailing. Give me a 20 meter waterfall instead!  In the end, Lucas Wielatt was kind enough to simply lower me down the wall like another useless package, and I was more than thankful for putting my feet in the water after a few seconds bouncing down the cliff. Thank you!

The upper Rovana is tight, techincal and immensely beautiful. You are locked into a deep heaven of brilliant, fun whitewater, and when you emerge at the end of the canyon it is as if you come out of a hidden underground world.. The tight canyonwalls do not allow for much room to move around, but just enough to scout the crux and to be in constant awe of such a beautiful place.

Then there is of course the culture.. It is Switzerland, but italian swiss which is an exotic mix of culture for a northener. Risotto, home-made cheese, dark-haired swissies speaking italian... How can you not love it?

I can not wait to go back next spring and enjoy even more of this beautiful piece of the Alps, and hopefully with a little bit more water than the past months.

Mariann