I wanted to go floating down the river again.

But everyone said it was too dangerous this summer. Plus, the place we went to last summer now was closed.

That was a shame because floating down the Kings River felt like one big moving party that everyone with an inner tube was welcome to join.

So outdoors writer Marek Warszawski recommended I try white-water rafting.

I'm from Texas and had gone rafting before in Colorado as part of a family vacation, but never in California. I was intrigued.

I called Kings River Expeditions to get the scoop.

"Haven't people been dying going rafting this summer? Isn't the current too fast or the rapids too big and that's why no one's floating this year?"

"No, no, no," said Justin Butchert, KRE's director. "You'll be fine. There'll be a professional guide with you. You'll wear safety vests. You'll be in good hands."

"OK -- let's do this."

Out on the upper crest of the Kings River where the water is white and moves quickly, the river looks too intimidating for most sane people. But under the supervision of professional guides, you really do feel safe.

The scale of difficulty we rafted was Grade 3, meaning small waves, slight drops in whitewater and some rocks. Nothing too wild or crazy.

It took about 90 minutes to drive from Fresno to the Twin Pines Camp meeting area near Pine Flat Reservoir, then 45 more on the company bus on a narrow dirt road to get to the release point.

The rafting trip lasts about three hours, so it makes all the travel worthwhile. The company also provides meals before and after.

We're also pretty fortunate. On most years, the rafting season shuts down by mid-July because the water level becomes too low and the mountain snow has melted away. But this year, the snow has taken longer to melt, allowing the season to last until the end of this month.

Safety was the first thing discussed before anyone gets close to the river.

"Once you stop paddling, it usually goes from bad to worse," safety instructor Steve Bonvicin said. "If you fall out, keep you feet up, float on your back and your head up and go downstream. Don't panic. We will get you."

Guide Jonathan Lopez was put in charge of my raft, which included my friend Heather Somerville, Yorba Linda resident Daniel Mole and his 9- and 10-year-old daughters, London and Grace.

Lopez instructed Daniel and me to sit in the front and opposite to give the raft power and speed. The women sat in the middle but along the edge of the raft, and Lopez manned the back and would steer us both with his commands and his own paddling.

As we maneuvered through dips and around rocks and sides of mountains, Lopez recited some history about each area. But I was too distracted either from laughing at the waves that crashed on us or just trying to paddle in sync with everybody else.

Mostly, I remember Lopez yelling on occasion: "We need you, B.J. We need you, B.J. Gotta paddle. Gotta paddle." And that typically happened because I'd get caught staring at the waves. In hindsight, I guess I wasn't the best person to sit in the front.

Throughout the trip, we went through multiple dips and crashing waves -- and almost rammed into the side of a mountain -- but always avoided trouble.

Before the end, the group jumped into the water and went for a quick swim. The trip ended soon after and everyone raised their paddles for a final group high-five.

Strangers a few hours earlier, I now felt connected to them all. It's a weird and unexpected bond people grow from rafting together.

I made four new friends and became closer to another from the experience alone.

So I guess the news that floating was shut down this summer turned out to be my gain.