All of our boats are handmade in Mancos, Colorado by a small team of local craftsmen and women.  Although the idea remains simple, we have been developing our techniques, materials, and designs for over 15 years to create the lightest, most durable, and effective packrafts in the world.  Our designs and innovation have completely redefined the sport, and with the help of adventurers all over the world, pushed packrafting further than we ever thought possible.  We stand by our products with a 3 year warranty, one you won’t find anywhere else.  Almost all of the rafts we have built over the last 15 years are still water worthy today. The first Alpacka raft was built for an off-trail trek across the Brooks Range, Alaska. More than 15 years later we’re still designing and hand-building simple, tough boats with the best materials and techniques available. Alpacka rafts are artisan craft, from stem to stern. Each one has a little personality of its own. For us, it’s about staying true to our vision – and our vision is not focused on the boat.

It’s about doing what you want to do and going where you want to go.  backpack zonnepaneelAt the end of the day, the boat is only a tool.  targus voyager backpack laptop case Alpacka Raft was started in Chugiak, Alaska, in 2001, to equip “the boy who could destroy anything.”  2be backpackThor Tingey, gear thrasher extraordinaire, had demolished a Sevylor trail boat and a Curtis Designs raft on two consecutive long-range brush treks in the Brooks Range, Alaska.  eberlestock destroyer v69 backpackEnter the character no one expected: his mother, Sheri Tingey.  backpack asus rog nomad

Sheri’s journey began in the late 60’s, when she fled the socialite circles of Phoenix, Arizona, after completely tearing apart and redesigning her entire wardrobe numerous times, much to the consternation of her mother.  backpack derrick trolley catShe began her outdoor industry career as river-rat / ski-bum in the 1970’s in Jackson, Wyoming.backpack adz In Jackson she founded “Design by Sheri,” one of the first modern outdoor clothing companies.  Already a surfer, in her early 20’s she discovered whitewater kayaking and has a plausible claim to have brought the first whitewater kayak to Jackson.  Sheri sold her original gear business to raise a family, and it’s only fitting she got back into it as a result of her son.  Thor needed a light, tough, high-buoyancy raft to carry himself and fifty pounds of gear down remote rivers. 

It needed to endure hard use: rocky shallows, bushwhacks, and Class III whitewater.  As he was carrying everything on his back when he wasn’t rafting, it had to stay light, and as an avid fly fisherman he wanted something that could get him into good casting spots.  From these demands, the original Alpacka raft was born. All these years later, we run our own production shop out in ranch land, within biking distance of home and spitting distance of a countryside creek that features great “combat boating.  Today’s Alpacka raft is the product of years of experiments, re-design, and great feedback from the boating community.  Sheri remains our president and head designer.  On any given day, up to 75% of our shop staff may be dogs.  We are, indeed, a funny little company: not perfect, lots of personality, but composed of local craftsmen and committed to putting together a very good, little boat with state of the art technology which – for all the hidden complexity – is fantastically simple and fun to use. 

We continue to build tiny, little boats for those who demand something unreasonable from them.  Our vision: to create fun, tough boats that can be used by anyone, require minimal maintenance, and fit in the bottom of a pack.  It’s our enduring theory that you just can’t take yourself too seriously in an Alpacka raft.  We think of them as “the mud trucks of the butt-boat world.”The small rafts have seen a resurgence with outdoors fanatics. Competitors in adventure races have used them, since they are equally capable of handling rapids, ocean bays and long lake crossings. They can weigh as little as three pounds and are easily stowed in a backpack for transport on dry land. “Pack rafts are the Swiss Army knife of boats: small, versatile, packable and a jack of all trades,” said Andrew Mattox, an owner of Alpacka Raft, based in Mancos, Colo., which sells a range of models starting around $600.For explorers like Roman Dial, a mathematics and biology professor at Alaska Pacific University in Anchorage, pack rafts have opened new vistas.

Mr. Dial wrote a book on them, “Packrafting: An Introduction and How-To Guide” (Beartooth Mountain Press, 2008), after more than two decades of pack-rafting expeditions to places like Borneo, New Zealand, Patagonia, Tasmania and the Western United States. In 1986 Mr. Dial traversed the Brooks Range in Alaska, a 1,000-mile trip on foot and skis, and — for the rivers and lakes that dotted the terrain — in a pack raft.In the foreword to Mr. Dial’s book, Jon Krakauer, the author of “Into the Wild,” wrote, “Roman was among the first people on the planet to understand that the pack raft would revolutionize wilderness exploration.”This year I joined a group of experienced pack-rafters on a two-day trip in the San Isabel National Forest. At a boat launch on the Arkansas, we sorted gear to prepare for the journey, which would cover about 25 miles of travel equally divided between land and water.“Here’s your raft,” said Jason Magness, the trip leader, tossing me a small rubbery bundle.

It weighed five pounds and fit snugly in the bottom of my backpack.I stuffed food, a sleeping bag, a shell jacket and survival gear in as well, all cinched in waterproof sacks. With a kayak paddle strapped to the outside of the pack, I followed Mr. Magness and two companions, and the hike began.Mr. Magness is a founder of a troupe of outdoors athletes, adventurers and yoga teachers known as the YogaSlackers, who embark on trips that push the limits of the body and the mind. Pack rafts have allowed Mr. Magness and his group to complete expeditions from Canada to Costa Rica, including two-week journeys in remote wilderness.Our adventure included backpacking, mountain climbing, canyoneering, camping out and then — after inflating the rafts on the second day — a long whitewater paddle back to the cars. Our route, an off-trail tour past geographic landmarks and old mines, was sketched vaguely on a topographic map Mr. Magness had printed. “We’ll figure it out as we go along,” he said.

For an hour we walked north next to the Arkansas River. Whitewater poured over rocks, the river pinching down inside canyon walls.The group — Daniel Staudigel, Mr. Magness, Ms. Gribbon and me — shared food and gear throughout the trip. Each person carried a raft and paddle. But a small tent, first-aid items and layers of clothing, all split among us, were considered community gear. Moving fast and light, we covered five miles of back country in a couple of hours. We squeezed up a canyon where the walls narrowed to 10 feet wide. Above 8,000 feet we reached an obscure ridge marked as “The Reef” on our map. An old mine, abandoned and forgotten, edged a dry tributary far below.By sunset we’d hiked and climbed about 13 miles. A final descent into a canyon led to a sandy wash, where we camped within sight of the Arkansas.Morning brought bright sun and a line of commercial rafters bobbing downstream. We inflated our pack rafts at the river’s edge, watching the six-member crews buck and drop in raging water below.“

What is that thing?” a rafter shouted, stretching to see the strange little crafts being inflated onshore.As an experienced kayaker, I took to a pack raft with little issue. My vessel, an Alpacka raft, looked to be not much more than an inner tube reinforced with a floor. But on the river I felt in control. The craft could ferry across the current. I paddled into an eddy for practice, bracing as the boat spun around.Our day on the Arkansas entailed a line of rapids with big names — Graveyard, Widowmaker, Zoom Flume — and with ratings up to Class 4. (Class 6 is the hardest, considered unrunnable.) On the first major set, Pinball Rapid, I leaned forward and paddled fast.Waves exploded over my head. Water rushed in, filling the raft. I shot out the other side soaked but upright, the craft bumping through like a tank. Farther downstream, after running a steep chute, my raft flipped, and I went overboard. The shocking cold of the mountain river knocked out my breath. I swam in a swirling mess of whitewater, raft and paddle edging away.