River rafting with a tyke in tow

While we reveled in the ancient history surrounding us, our guides prepared a riverside picnic. When we'd had our fill, we returned to the rafts and drifted a couple miles farther to the Anasazi cliff dwellings. Literally translated as "strange ones," the name Anasazi was first understood to refer more respectfully to the "ancient ones," tribes whose history is little known.

The group hiked briefly through flat desert terrain, past white datura flowers, until the cliff dwellings came into view. Fifty feet off the ground, an uncanny network of rooms is nestled into the rocks, protected by a cliff overhang. We climbed up to the stone rooms and peered into tiny square windows.

To the children it was an exotic playhouse, a climbing structure in the wilderness. To the adults it was a mystery. No one knows why these deftly crafted shelters were abandoned between 700 and 1,200 years ago.

Before the day was out, the rafting group had traveled past seven miles of canyons. Our stops were frequent enough that even the most active of the kids had no difficulty staying put in the rubber rafts. Once the craft were tied up, the kids chased salamanders, while guides set up the camp kitchen under the trees and adults erected tents to the music of rushing waters.

All the guides were adept with the younger crowd. A couple of guides set up inflatable kayaks as makeshift couches and entertained the kids with camp songs.

Around the campfire, we dined on chicken curry with rice, made from scratch, and a batch of brownies cooked in a charcoal pit. By dinner's end, the sky had filled with stars. Soon, the only sounds were the murmur of the river and the ruffling of a breeze through the trees.

The second day brought greater challenges. The group scaled a steep incline high atop the canyon's ridge. Smooth rock, shallow craters, and expansive views greeted the hikers. There were no trees, no animals, and no other people in sight.

Scotty pointed out the jagged Mule Ear Diatreme, a geologic formation caused by volcanic eruptions 30 million years ago.

The river was wilder the second day. Rafting started in calm waters with a few adults and older kids navigating two-person kayaks known as "duckies." Others caught a ride in the cool river, hanging onto a rope behind the buoyant rafts.

Then, suddenly the water was churning with "sand waves," stirred up by flash floods upriver. The guides paddled the heavy rafts expertly through the waves, providing an especially exhilarating ride on this usually calm river.

My daughter was relieved to hear that the guides had never had a raft overturn on the San Juan. But the duckies were not so stable, and four kayakers were dumped into the water.

Day 3 brought the return of calmer waters. We floated through the canyons on the lookout for longhorn sheep, cattle ranches amid the cliffs, and whimsical rock formations.

Throughout it all, the guides led, entertained, and educated. They shared their knowledge of the river, the climate, local history, and geology. They kept the youngest to the oldest laughing, hiking, singing, and observing.

Soon we were back on land, boarding the bus that returned us to the lodge. "Why aren't we on the raft anymore, Mommy?" asked my daughter. And I wondered, too.

For more information, contact OARS, PO Box 67, Angels Camp, CA 95222. Phone: 800-3-GO-OARS, or visit the website, www.oars.com.

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