Paddle in hand I make the occasional soft stroke to keep the bow headed downstream.

Rocks pass quickly by underneath the boat, a reminder of just how fast the current is.

The sun is bright and warm on the skin. The sky a perfect cloudless blue. The air is thick with the smell of the river.

My crew, friends new and old, lounge in front of me on the tubes of the raft. Looking. Seeing. No doubt enjoying.

Trees line the river's edge and rise to the top of the steep gorge. The river ripples and winds, turn after turn. A gentle wind begins to blow upstream.

This is the Kennebec River.

An hour ago we were tossing and turning through roiling waves, spashing down through Big Mama backwards (on purpose). Riding the roller coaster of Whitewasher and Big Kahuna. Plunging dead on over the hump of Magic for that famous hit. Whooping it up so much that I forgot about Bonecrusher below, which inflicted on us one last good wallop.

And now we float along. Tired, happy, sunning, snoozing, chatting, telling dirty jokes, dreaming up future adventures, quietly contemplating life, sipping a can of beer.

But mostly we're just "on the river." Allowing the river to work its magic, it's transformative powers.

We are there now. In it. On it.

One raft trip down it or a hundred. It doesn't matter. Not to this guide.

If there is a more peaceful, relaxing place on Earth, I don't know it.

Pre-trip camp out at Webb's Campground, West Forks.

Sunset over the Dead River, West Forks, just above its confluence with the Kennebec River.

Tubers ready their unlikely craft for a trip down the Kennebec Gorge.

A butterfly hitchhikes down river on my hat.

Floating down the beautiful lower Kennebec.

Nasty river guide-type. Hey, is that a can of beer in your PFD pocket?

Lazy afternoon on the lower K.

Gear spread out in camp after a trip down the Kennebec River a week ago.