Before Linc, Bluebell glances at the water gauges and reports that Steyr has reached a beautiful 115 cm, which is unique, as it rarely exceeds the critical 100 cm at this time of year. So we turn off the highway later and in a moment we are parking in Hinterstoder. That is, a bit below the village, below the famous Stromboding waterfall, whose difficulty of around VI strikes fear into even the only Red Bull rider of the Bluebell expedition.

From the parking lot, it's just a stone's throw to the river by packraft, and right under the wooden bridge, we enter the beautifully flowing river.

Armed with a few lines of information from various internet sources (this is our first time in Steyr), we proceed cautiously, first to the Sagmeisterwehr weir, which we descend using a wooden slide in the middle. This is followed by a shallow S-bend between gravel and then a bridge, under which is apparently the most difficult part of the route with an unpleasant roller. However, Blubell jumps over it with ease, even without a sip of the well-known energy drink for encouragement.

Another fast passage comes after the road bridge, and then the river rushes beautifully forward to a popular place called Autobus. We go around the large rock in the middle of the river on the left, and it's only a short distance to the finish line. We get out a little before the road bridge on Pyhrnpass Stasse, under which, it seems, entry is prohibited due to repairs, and we climb out of the water directly at the bus stop. The bus back to Hinterstoder runs once an hour, but with brilliant hitchhiking, we catch a well-preserved 50-year-old from Stubai and drive back to the car with a light foot.

This is followed by an hour and a half long transfer to Salza, where it is drizzling lightly, so instead of pitching our tent, we first stop at our favorite pub on the square and, after eating a schnitzel the size of a door, we head back to Black Sheeps, which we really like.

The next morning, we set off for the classic Salza, which needs no introduction. The water level is just over 130 cm and the sky is clear, so it's shallow, rocky, hot, and fun. Without a hitch, we anchor for lunch on potatoes at the jump, and without further ado, we sail through the gorge to Saggraben. On the way back, we catch up with a friend from Slovakia with a bunch of stories, and in the evening, we enjoy beer, wine, lasagna, and rain.

On the third day of our Austrian triad, we head to Enns, which is about half an hour from Wildalpen. We leave the car at a pub in Gstatterboden and take the bus three stops to Gesäuse Gofergraben. The opposite procedure, leaving the car at the start, is not possible because parking is prohibited at the bridge. A short distance from the bus stop, a footpath leads to the river, complete with slides for rafts. We prefer to board below the treacherous island, where the left side is marked WW IV and the right side is death in the siphons.

"Yes, the Vltava is beautiful," I smile broadly as I float with my legs outside the knee straps and my head tilted back to take in the magnificent Alpine panoramas. Somewhere halfway through, I don't even know how it happened, but I decide to put the straps back on. The river becomes an ultra-mess of confusing waves, some of which are so big that we don't want to go into them. Fortunately, the Enns is wide enough for everyone, and everything can be bypassed on the right side, which is a little calmer. The situation repeats itself a little further down, but by then we are heading towards the end of a short, approximately one-hour trip, whose water level in Admont was just under 90 cm, so neither too much nor too little.

But at the end, a car is waiting at the pub and another schnitzel under the blue sky.

It's time to head home. This Alpine triple is well worth it. Especially on Mondays to Wednesdays in June, when the sky is cloudless and the rivers are empty of people. During the entire trip, we encountered exactly zero boats, and all that water flowed just for us.

And that, my friends, is what packrafting is all about.