We drove an hour or two north of where we were staying to go river rafting, something Sarah had never done before and I hadn’t done since high school. They loan you everything you need to make it down the river, except courage.
In reality, I think most or all of the danger is manufactured by the guides telling tall tales and continually steering the raft into and under as much water as possible. Gotta give them city folk their money’s worth.
We’re not really in most of the photos you’ll see because that’s just how it turned out. But hey, what fun is paying for the souvenir photos if you’re actually in them?
Both Sarah and I agreed this was the right amount of scary. Any less and it would have felt like one of those mechanical horses outside of grocery stores. Any more and they’d have made us buy the wetsuits.
We got very wet but weren’t all that cold, despite bathing in glacier water for the better part of the 90 minute trip down the Kicking Horse river, which surprisingly was not a Native American name.
Our guide did explain where the name came from and had her story been more interesting this is where I’d relay that to you. If you’re in the neighborhood and want to give it a go, we used Wild Water Adventures and it was a blast. The guides are from all over the world just bopping from adventurous job to the next, not a care in the world.
