I wasn’t the least bit worried about bouncing down the upper Kennebec River in a raft, myself. I’d done it before, with a bunch of friends many years back. It was a wild trip, and heaps of fun.

An organized, commercial group outing led by a professional guide would be tame in comparison, I thought. Still, as a parent, I couldn’t completely set aside my instinctive worry that my son might be pitched into the midst of a raging torrent, battered against rocks or trapped in the tumbling vortex of a hydraulic.

Hey, it could happen.

Like any adventure worth the while, white water rafting can be dangerous, but statistics indicate that it’s not so extremely hazardous as marketing hyperbole sometimes suggests. Rafting companies steer a course between assuring their customers of the dangers of the river, and the safety of their enterprise.

The best rafting in New England can be found in West Forks Plantation, Maine (not to be confused with West Forks, Maine), where the Dead and Kennebec Rivers meet. It’s about a 5 ½ hour drive from Nashua, just close enough for a full weekend trip.

There are about 17 different rafting companies around the area, and most offer trips on both rivers. The Kennebec offers the more reliable ride, thanks to daily releases from Florida Power and Light’s Harris Dam.

My folks, my sister, Evan and I rafted the Kennebec River during our recent trip to Maine, in the company of Crabapple White Water. It was every bit as gorgeous and exciting as I remembered, and our guide inspired confidence. The most common injury, we were assured, is getting smacked by an errant paddle grip, usually one’s own, often during the bus ride to the dam.

Note that I wasn’t the least bit worried about myself, my parents or even my kid sister. We’re all grown ups, and we’ve been through worse.

The upper Kennebec gorge has all the biggest rapids, and the first sets of rapids passed all too quickly, in a bouncy blur of foam and water. The Kennebec is cool and refreshing, and if you sit near the bow, you’re going to find out how it tastes. Magic Falls, once the biggest and baddest of them all, was much diminished from the towering standing wave that I remembered from nearly 20 years ago, but still fun. It was all thrilling, but I was also greatly relieved when we made it through the upper gorge without losing anyone off our eight-person raft (smaller rafts give a more exciting ride).

There was more to come, though, and Evan got tipped out in the midst of a rollicking Class III set of waves, as we stuffed the nose of the raft into a hole. I reached out and tried to tip him back into the raft, but couldn’t hold him. I extended the grip of my paddle, but it fell inches short of his grip, as an eddy held him back.

Ev admitted later that he was scared for just two moments: when he first fell out, and then when my paddle wouldn’t reach. Bobbing down the river was no problem, no trouble at all, he said. He got fished out by the next boat passing by, and they delivered him back over the bow within minutes.

Later, when the rest of us got out and “swam” a few milder rapids on purpose,  Ev opted to stay in the boat. Been there, drank that. He changed his mind further downstream, however, and hopped out for another bob.

At least one person in our larger group was injured during the outing. A young woman cut her shin pretty badly on a rock while wading, during a stop to check out a waterfall that feeds the Kennebec. She gritted her teeth and took it like a trooper, and lived to tell the tale.

Here’s a photo of our raft, most of us obscured by white water. We all stayed aboard at this point, though: