River rafting with a tyke in tow

I think my mother would have barred our entrance to the plane if she could have. My husband feared someone would report us to the local social-service agency for child abuse. Our friends simply thought we were nuts. Each time I mentioned that my husband and I were taking our 5-year-old river rafting in Utah, the listener would gasp.

But I knew what I was doing. Our trip, a river float on the typically gentle waters of the San Juan River in the Four Corners region (where Colorado, Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico meet), was well-researched and thoroughly planned.

Though few people who were familiar with white-water trips in Maine or Colorado believed that a multiday rafting trip could be appropriate for a kindergartner, I had read the brochures, spoken to the staff, and interviewed several outfitters who ran family-friendly river programs. Based on all that, we chose to travel with OARS, Outdoor Adventure River Specialists, one of the country's largest river outfitters.

We would travel on Level II waters, compared with the Level IV or V (out of a possible six) that our friends and family were picturing.

In fact, we would see little white water. We wouldn't be expected to paddle, navigate, pack our rafts, or cook food. For three days, we would take in the majesty of the red-rock canyons from our perch on heavy-duty rubber rafts and through short hikes led by our guides.

I'd seen a similar trip on a documentary and couldn't get the image out of my mind. The awesome beauty of this trip was something I was eager to experience with my family.

Our group met at a rustic lodge in Bluff, Utah, close to Monument Valley, the night before the rafting trip. Our five families included seven kids ages 5 through 12, three grandparents, and six parents.

Scotty, the lead guide, was there to answer last-minute questions and provide waterproof sacks to protect our gear while rafting.

In the morning, a van delivered us to the nearby Sand Island Recreation Area, where, under bleak, drizzly skies, four rain-gear-wearing guides were already loading the yellow rubber rafts. They tucked tents and sleeping bags, gallons of drinking water, and a three-day supply of fresh food around and under the seats of each raft.

Gear loaded, life jackets fastened, the guides paddled 16 soggy but enthusiastic rafters into the river. Our daughter, tentative at first, burrowed in between her dad and me.

The muddy river was running fast and smooth. Within moments dramatic walls of red rock came into view, with stripes of crimson, rust, and vermilion representing layer upon layer of geologic history.

My daughter was mesmerized by the scenery, the calming motion of the raft, the novelty of the whole experience.

A few miles down the chocolate-colored river, the guides tied up the rafts at Butler Wash. There, the sandy earth is filled with reminders of the native Americans who called this land home more than a thousand years ago.

Arrowheads and shards of reddish pottery with black painted zigzags poked through the dirt. Stacey, a guide with a background in archaeology, explained a bit about the people who made and used these implements.

The children excitedly looked for shards to show Stacey.

Both kids and adults raced to the petroglyph panels just a short walk from the river. It was daunting to stand before these images of people and animals carved into the rock wall centuries ago and puzzle over the pictorial language used by the tribes.

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