The roar of Jones Hole rapid fades behind us as our raft glides into calmer waters. My ten-year-old son’s face is beaming with a mix of pride, shock and pure joy. 

Just minutes ago, he’d gripped the raft’s safety line with white knuckles, telling himself “I can do this” as we approached the churning whitewater.

Now, soaked and exhilarated, he turns to me and declares, “That was AWESOME! Can we do it again?”

“We sure can kid, for another 4 days!” I replied.

This moment, watching our son discover the depth of his own courage on the Green River, is exactly why my husband and I chose to introduce our boy to the magic of river life. Twenty years ago, long before our son arrived, we’d experienced the life-changing magic of rafting rapids surrounded by the towering, ancient red rock walls of the Grand Canyon.

We’d been waiting for the perfect moment to share this experience with him, and our four-day journey through the Gates of Lodore in Dinosaur National Monument with OARS proved to be everything we’d hoped for and more.

There’s something extraordinary about stepping away from the digital world and into the embrace of towering red canyon walls.

No phones.

No WiFi.

No notifications competing for our attention.

Just the rhythm of the river, the laughter of new friends, and the kind of deep connection that only seems possible when we strip away the distractions of modern life.

Our days quickly fell into a natural cadence. Mornings began with the aroma of coffee brewing and pancakes sizzling on the griddle as the rising sun painted the canyon walls in shades of amber and gold.

Our guides, who quickly became more like family than strangers, somehow managed to create culinary magic from a camp kitchen – serving up everything from scratch-made lasagna to Mexican feasts under a blanket of stars.

But it wasn’t just the food that nourished us. It was watching our son find his tribe among the other kids on the trip, their laughter echoing off the canyon walls as they built sandcastles on pristine beaches and searched for lizards in sun-warmed rocks. It was seeing him step up to help the guides, learning to tie knots and set up camp, his confidence growing with each new skill mastered.

The beauty of river time is how it bends and flows differently than the rigid schedule of our regular lives.

Between the heart-pumping rapids, we’d float through peaceful stretches where the only sound was water lapping against the raft. These moments became invitations for real conversation – the kind that often gets lost in the busy rhythm of everyday life. Our son opened up about his fears and dreams, and we shared stories from our own river adventure two decades ago.

Each bend in the river brought new wonders. We hiked to hidden waterfalls, discovered ancient petroglyphs etched into the rock faces, and spotted bighorn sheep perched impossibly high on the canyon walls. During one memorable lunch stop, we watched an osprey dive for fish, its wings gleaming against the deep blue Utah sky.

But perhaps the most profound transformation happened in the evenings. As our guides prepared dinner, kids and adults alike would gather to play cards or share stories about the day’s adventures.

No one reached for phones that weren’t there.

No one missed their social media feeds.

Instead, we found ourselves fully present, connecting with our fellow travelers in that authentic way that seems increasingly rare in our digital age.

Watching our son navigate both the physical and emotional challenges of the river was a gift I’d wished for but hadn’t fully anticipated. Each rapid became a lesson in courage, each successful run building a reservoir of resilience he could draw from long after we left the canyon.

“I was scared,” he confided one evening after running a particularly exciting rapid, “but I did it anyway.”

Those words still echo in my heart – isn’t that exactly what we want for our children? The knowledge that they can face their fears and emerge stronger on the other side?

I’ll be honest, as parents contemplating this trip, we’d had our own worries:

• Would our son be safe in the big rapids?
• Would he be bored without his usual entertainment?
• Would the camping be too challenging?

Looking back, I wish I could have told myself not to worry. Because what we witnessed was a child thriving in an environment that was designed perfectly for growth and discovery. So, let me answer a few of the questions I was asking myself before our journey began, in case you’re wondering about the same things.

What are the guides like?

Words cannot describe how amazing the OARS river crew truly are, especially with kids! They are true role models that I feel privileged to have had my son cross paths with. They are conscious, authentic, fun loving people who are living life on their terms and doing what they love. Each and every guide was deeply connected not only to nature, but to themselves.

On the river, their expertise quickly put our minds at ease and their profound knowledge of the river was matched only by their genuine joy in sharing it with children. They knew exactly how to make safety briefings fun rather than frightening, turning them into engaging lessons rather than lectures. They taught the kids river signals through games and showed them how to read the water’s movement – skills our son still proudly explains to anyone who’ll listen.

Tell me about the bathroom…

“But what about the bathroom situation?” I hear you ask.

The infamous ‘groover’ – the river toilet – became a running joke among our group, especially when someone would announce they were “going to enjoy the best view in the house.”

And truly, where else can you do your business while gazing at thousand-foot canyon walls? The guides maintained immaculate standards of cleanliness and privacy, making even this aspect of river life feel completely manageable.

What is the camping like?

Far from roughing it, we found ourselves perfectly comfortable in our tent on thick sleeping pads, though our son often opted to sleep under the stars, counting shooting stars until his eyes grew heavy.

The gentle sound of the river became our white noise machine, lulling us into the deepest sleep we’d had in months.

And the food…my child is a picky eater, so I’m worried…

The river guides seemed to have a sixth sense about food preferences. They prepared kid-friendly alternatives alongside their gourmet main dishes, though we found our usually selective son suddenly willing to try new foods – perhaps because he’d worked up an appetite swimming and hiking, or maybe because everything just tastes better outdoors.

What length trip do you recommend?

One of the most common questions I’ve been asked since returning is whether four days feels too long to be disconnected from the world. The truth? It felt perfect and it also wasn’t nearly long enough.

By the time we’d settled into river life, learned each rapid’s name, and really begun to feel part of our river family, it was time to head home. The great thing is that OARS have trips as short as 1-2 days…if you just want to get your feet wet and give rafting a try.

The real magic of the river

The real magic of a river trip, we discovered, isn’t just in the exciting moments – though shooting through rapids like Disaster Falls and Hell’s Half Mile certainly got our hearts racing. It’s in the subtle transformations that happen when families step away from their normal routines and into a space where time is measured by sunrises and sunsets rather than notifications and deadlines.

Our son left the canyon standing taller, with new friends, new confidence, and a deeper connection to the natural world.

But perhaps more importantly, we left with a stronger bond as a family, having shared an adventure that required us to trust each other, support each other, and simply be present with each other.

For parents wondering if their children are ready for a river trip, I’d say this: kids are often more capable than we imagine. The river has a way of meeting each person where they are, offering just the right balance of challenge and comfort. Our son’s proud declaration as we drove home said it all: “Can we please go on another rafting trip next summer?”

As I sit here writing this, weeks after our return, sand is still spilling out of our gear – a physical reminder of our time in the canyon.

But the real souvenirs are the intangible ones: the way our son’s eyes light up when he talks about conquering Hell’s Half Mile rapid or his favourite rapid, School Boy, the inside jokes we share about our guide’s legendary Strawberry Shortcake, and the quiet confidence that now emanates from our once-hesitant boy.

Practical tips for your rafting adventure

For families considering a river trip, here are a few practical tips we learned along the way:

• Trust the packing list OARS provides – they’ve thought of everything
• Don’t overpack – you need less than you think
• Bring a journal – your kids might surprise you by wanting to document their adventure
• Leave your expectations at home and let the river work its magic
• Say yes to trying new things – whether it’s rowing an inflatable kayak or tasting a new camp dish

But perhaps the most important tip is simply this: take the leap. In a world where childhood seems to be shrinking, where screens too often replace streams, and where structured activities leave little room for genuine adventure, a river trip offers something rare and precious.

It’s a chance to watch your children bloom in real time, to have conversations that matter, and to build the kind of memories that will be shared for generations to come.

As we plan our next river adventure (yes, we’re already looking at dates for next summer!), I’m reminded of something our lead guide said one evening as we watched the sunset paint the canyon walls: “The river has a way of giving you exactly what you need, even if you didn’t know you needed it.”

For our family, it gave us everything we needed and more: adventure, connection, growth, and a renewed appreciation for the simple joy of being together in nature. The Green River through Dinosaur National Monument may have been our first family rafting trip, but I can promise you this – it won’t be our last.

Will you join us? We’d love to meet you on the river!

Ready to Start Your Own River Story?

If you’re feeling inspired to create your own river memories, I can’t recommend OARS highly enough. They’ve been running river trips for over 50 years, and their expertise shines through in every detail – from the pre-trip planning to the last goodbye at the take-out point.

A four-day Gates of Lodore trip is perfect for families seeking their first river adventure (though they offer trips ranging from 3-5 days).

👉 And here’s a tip: if you’re one of the first four people to book a 2025 trip before March 31st, you can save $100 per person by requesting “Premier Pricing“ when you call.

Start by browsing their Gates of Lodore trip details and available dates. Better yet, request their gorgeous catalog – it’s filled with inspiration and detailed information about all their river adventures. Fair warning though: once you start flipping through those pages, you’ll find yourself dreaming about rivers you didn’t even know existed!

Feel free to drop any questions in the comments below – I’m happy to share more about our experience. And if you’ve been on a river trip with your family, I’d love to hear your stories too!

And I would love to leave you with a heartwarming poem, Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, read by one of our guides as we began a silent float for a 2km stretch of the Green River…

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.