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"Keep the boat straight."

Teeth gritted, I repeated this instruction to myself as I paddled a kayak through the rushing white water of the New River in Giles County.

"Keep the boat straight." I was navigating Clendennin Shoals, a Class II+ rapid. I'm sure it's an easy ride for an experienced paddler — but that's clearly not me.

My only river experience was two whitewater rafting trips and a few tubing excursions.

So as photographer Matt Gentry and his wife Colleen and I paddled down the New River on July 5 the warning outfitter Britt Stoudenmire was fresh in my mind.

Seconds before we hit the river, I asked Stoudenmire what percentage of his customers flipped on that stretch.

"It's about 50-50," he said.

"Uh-oh," I thought.

Two hours later, as I plunked the paddle into the teeth of Clendennin Shoals, I remained focus on my primary goal for the day: Keep the boat right side up.

We planned an eight-mile float from Ripplemead to Bluff City. Matt and I would share a canoe and Colleen planned to paddle a kayak.

Stoudenmire greeted us seconds after we pulled into the parking lot of Canoe the New Outfitters, the Pearisburg business he operates with his wife, Leigh.

Before shuttling us to the river, Stoudenmire pulled out a map and discussed every rapid, making suggestions on the best way to navigate each one.

He saved his sternest warnings, and most specific instructions, for Clendennin Shoals.

If you don't want to go through it, you can portage right, he said. It took me a few seconds to figure out that meant getting out of the boat and carrying it down river, which didn't sound at all appealing.

Of course, neither did the idea of flipping out of the boat.

Stoudenmire said the rapid caused problems for canoeists who let it sneak up on them — despite clear markings on the map.

"But you guys should be fine, you have an experienced paddler with you," he said, referring to Matt.

Chip and Becky Batton and their four children, ranging from age nine to 20, were preparing to set off down the river at the same time we were.

Chip Batton came to Virginia Tech in 1976 and has lived in the New River Valley ever since.

"I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather live," he said.

The family has been canoeing the river for years.

"This is our favorite run," he said, primarily because of its beautiful scenery and the mixture of Class I and Class II rapids.

I couldn't help but laugh when Matt and I found ourselves paddling in a circle less than 200 yards after leaving the boat ramp.

We quickly straightened. It was a perfect day, just over 80 degrees. Rocky granite bluffs towered above, casting a reflection on the water. Puffy white clouds decorated the sky.

My heart rate jumped as we entered the first rapid. Martinsville Speedway President Clay Campbell had taken me on a 90 mph tour around the track in April, and I remember thinking that floating the rapid scared me more than riding in that race car.

We survived that rapid and several others before we spotted the Batton family at a rope swing on the right side of the river. We stopped and watched as the children — Brad, 20, Summer, 18, Kendall, 11 and Race, 9 — took the plunge. They promised that an even better rope swing was up ahead.

An island split the river as we neared the halfway point of the trip. Without consulting the map in his pocket — which I later discovered clearly says run the river right of the island — Matt declared we would take the left channel.

The water was extremely shallow and we found ourselves darting through rocks. I was worried more about getting stuck than getting wet at this point. We managed to make it through and grazed only a few rocks.

Matt then whipped out the map and declared that the Class II "Rock Garden" rapid was ahead. "I feel like we just went through a rock garden," I told him.

We spotted the Batton family again and stopped to join them on the riverbank for a snack and a ride on their favorite rope swing.

We discovered that Becky Batton has homeschooled all of her kids. The oldest, Brad, recently graduated from Tech but will stay there for graduate school. Summer Batton is also a Tech student. The family lives just outside Blacksburg, but Chip Batton commutes to Giles County every day to work at the Celanese Acetate plant.

We spent only about half an hour with the Batton family, but it was enough time for me to see an amazing family bond.

For them, it was probably another day on the river — all four kids have been tubing, canoeing, camping and hiking since they were toddlers. To me, it seemed like a scene from the Waltons television series I watched as a kid. All the distractions of 2004 seemed non-existent.

My wife and I love to explore the outdoors with our daughters, but too often we get pulled away by work, errands or yard work that never goes away.

Seeing Brad and Summer Batton goof off with their younger siblings touched my heart. Hearing their stories of overnight canoeing adventures inspired me to make more time to get out in the woods with my family.

"Why don't you try out the kayak now?" Matt said to me as we prepared to get back on the river.

That sounded good — until I realized out Clendennin Shoals loomed just ahead. I hesitated until Chip Batton assured me his family had never flipped in that rapid and that a kayak would probably bounce through it smoother than the more bulky canoe.

That's how I found myself — with just over two hours of river experience — riding solo.

The kayak immediately felt great, though. It was lighter and much easier to maneuver than the canoe. No problem, I thought; I can handle Clendennin.

"We'll run it river left," Matt said as the sound of the rushing water grew louder.

I paddled smoothly as we entered the rapid. Suddenly I felt the current pulling the boat hard to the left. I started to turn sideways.

For just a few seconds, but long enough to leave an impression, I felt the power of the river and knew how easily I could flip.

Then I remembered those simple instructions.

"Keep the boat straight."

I dug in hard. After half a dozen swift strokes I was moving forward and soon the water was peaceful again. The sun was falling lower in the sky as our float ended a few just past 5 p.m.

All of the gear stayed dry. Goal accomplished.

But as I saw the Batton family preparing to load up for home, I realized I had learned more than how to navigate the river.