North State Parent Article - Outdoor Experiences Change the Course of Lives

Down a lazy river
Sunset Magazine Article By Christopher Tritto

River rafting brings to mind white-knuckle thrill rides through adrenaline-pumping rapids. But for those more interested in a laid-back outing than a hair-raising adventure, summer floats down peaceful stretches of California rivers offer a very different experience.

This is river touring the way Huckleberry Finn would have liked it: carefree floating with plenty of time to take in the scenery and to stop for picnicking, side-canyon exploration, and even a little fishing. With gentle riffles and long, calm-water drifts instead of big rapids, this type of trip offers a quiet retreat and an opportunity to reconnect with the natural world. With rapids rated at classes 1 through 3 (class 5 is the most difficult), these trips are as suitable for young children on their first river adventure as they are for experienced rafters craving tranquil communion with nature. All you need are shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, sunblock, a wide-brimmed hat, and a willingness to sit back and go with the flow.

Flowing between low green and gold hills near the Oregon border, the uncrowded Klamath has several sections that can be enjoyed from either the roomy comfort of a big raft or the solitude of an inflatable kayak. One popular 12-mile day trip puts in at Tree of Heaven campground near Yreka. This stretch is ideal for a nature experience. From the water, the environment is seen in a wonderfully different way. Boaters are almost sure to come across groups of turtles basking on rocks in the sun and great blue herons standing quietly along the banks, as well as osprey, deer, and river otters. There are even occasional sightings of bears lured by salmon runs. On a hot day, a leisurely lunch in the shade is followed by a cooling dip in the water. There are frequent stops for swimming and, in late summer, picking ripe blackberries that grow in brambly thickets along the riverbanks.

Sunset Magazine

My husband and I have been taking our children on family-oriented whitewater rafting trips since the year our oldest lost his first front tooth. Now we watch our grandchildren falling in love with the rivers of the West. They strain their ears for the sound of approaching white water, and when they hear that distinctive roar growing louder and louder, we see them shiver with excitement. When they notice the guide standing up in the boat to scout for boulders, they crane their necks and look ahead, too. When we adults sit straighter and grip our oars more tightly, the children reach for the ropes on the sides of the inflatable rubber rafts. I know the thrill they're feeling. After years of rafting rivers in California, Oregon, and Idaho, I still feel the same way.

So many aspects of rafting have become part of our family memory bank that it's hard to list them. There's family time together, uninterrupted by cell phones, e-mail, or carpools. There's the food, pancakes and tabouleh salad and steak with potatoes that all taste yummier than usual because someone else fixed them and we're eating outdoors. When a sharp-eyed paddler points out a pair of osprey diving for fish or seven bald eagles roosting on bare branches, we feel like the first humans privileged to see them. Each river is like an old friend with a personality of its own, and even the same river is different from year to year. But one thing remains constant on our trips...blackberries. During the brief summer months when the weather is temperate enough and the rain showers are infrequent enough and the water is high enough to make running rivers a pleasure, blackberries are always plentiful. They ripen over a long period of time, so it seems no matter when we camp, some little patch is ready for plucking nearby.

One year on the Klamath, we camped at a site with no outhouse nearby. The guides set up a porta-potty high on the knoll. From the improvised throne, one could contemplate the river far below, watch the ascending sun light the canyon walls a pinkish-yellow, listen to songbirds in the nearby pines and madrone - and pluck blackberries from the surrounding bushes. They grew just close enough to afford an alfresco snack but not so close that the thorns threatened tender skin.

Later, those of us who felt up to what the guides described as "a moderately challenging rock-scramble" made the trek up Ukonom Creek to the twin waterfalls that cascade into a pristine swimming hole. As we needed our hands free to aid in crawling over fallen trees and around Volkswagen-sized boulders in the path...the result of the floods of 1997 that rearranged the river's landscape...we couldn't gather blackberries for later eating. We just plucked and ate wherever we came upon them.

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