Forget high-seas adventure ...Explore the 'River of Turtles' in a canoe: SouthFlorida.com

"Head straight. When you get to the tree smack in the middle of the river, bear right. That's where you'll probably see a large gator. ... Just keep on going, and she won't bother you. She's just coming out to let you know you're on her turf. She's protecting her nest."

Large gator? Yeah right. ... He probably says that to all of the "tourists." That was my first reaction to the jaded cashier/tour guide holding a crude map of the itinerary for the canoe trip that my husband, two sons and I were about to take - a meandering excursion along the scenic Loxahatchee River. I waited for the guy to smirk, wink or chuckle, explaining that he was really just kidding. But he didn't. This was the real deal.

"What did you think you were going to see?" he asked, looking up from the map. He might as well have said, "Duh. This ain't no ride at Disney World."

My husband, Jerry, made mental notes about our itinerary, and my 12-year-old, Ben, excitedly discussed who'd navigate. They regularly take father-and-son camping trips throughout Florida. The two of them couldn't wait to get started. My 6-year-old, Brian, was more preoccupied with the ice cream freezer tucked into the corner of the trailer where all business transactions were done. Ice cream, cold water, kitschy souvenirs, plus a few other essentials, could all be purchased there for reasonable prices.

Not wanting to be a stick in the mud (or river, shall we say), I masked my fear of alligators and feigned an enthusiastic smile. Before we embarked, I turned my attention to the sparse display of sun visors, hoping to find one small enough to fit Brian. Decked out in his bright yellow headgear and a life vest, Brian was ready to see "snakes and cool stuff." He knew better than to come out and say ALLIGATORS.

A three-hour day trip for a family of four, including the canoe rental (ours accommodated four people), paddles and life vests is possible for about $20, plus tips. Each additional hour costs $4 per boat, per hour through the vendor we used, Canoe Outfitters of Florida in Jupiter, north of West Palm Beach. We chose the three-hour option, exploring the upper section of the Loxahatchee River, called Cypress Canopy. Longer excursions that include stops for picnics and other options also are available.

Because of last fall's hurricanes, canoe trips now require a guide to make your way past fallen trees in the river and self-guided expeditions are not recommended. Prices for the guided tours are $40 per person, which includes one guide per party and two people per canoe, but you can probably negotiate to put a kid or two in a canoe paddled by two adults. When we were ready to set out, we made our way to the shore, where just a few hundred feet from the sparse "business office," a colorful array of kayaks and canoes were strategically perched, ready for launching into the water at Riverbend Park. A steady stream of adventure seekers, from lithe, single kayakers to families of four trying to strategically balance themselves in canoes without tipping, arrived and departed from the river's edge.

With Ben in the front, we took off for a few hours of adventure. Shielded from the searing Memorial Day weekend sun, we glided through the shady Cypress Canopy. Despite the spate of hurricanes that destroyed much of the landscape of the area last year, this refuge for endangered species and wildlife remains virtually the same as it has been for generations. Within minutes of embarking on our day trip, we could see why the Seminole Indians named this scenic body of water the "River of Turtles." We saw not only turtles, but countless species of birds and interesting vegetation. The river tour was a welcome step back in time. Road rage was nonexistent. As we came upon other "river traffic," rather than try to speed up or cut each other off, fellow kayakers and canoeists moved aside. Some simply gave a nod or a tip of the hat, followed by a friendly, "Have a nice day" as they paddled past.

Aside from an occasional sign alerting visitors to "Be Gator Safe" and not feed the wildlife, we were on our own. No warnings to duck to avoid low hanging, sharp branches. No help if our canoe got stuck on a fallen log or lodged in tropical vegetation - except what was offered by friendly passersby.

A few times, we attempted to pass through a seemingly clear passageway, only to find that it was blocked by a submerged log, or too shallow to accommodate a canoe. But there were no wrong turns. Ben had many opportunities to perfect his backward paddling to maneuver us out of these pinches.

A competitive swimmer with muscles well attuned to strenuous upper body workouts, Ben was easily able to keep pace with Jerry. He also had mastered how to control the canoe, even as we glided over a miniature waterfall. Little Brian squealed with glee. Jerry hardly noticed the small dip. I held on for dear life.

"Can we do it again, Mommy?" Brian asked excitedly.

After canoeing a short distance farther, we opted to head back to our starting point. By that time, despite being in the shade for most of the trip, the heat began to take its toll on all of us. We made a U-turn of sorts with our canoe, and back we went. There was still no sign of the fearsome alligator, and that was fine with me. As we came upon the waterfall junction on our return trip, we had one last thrill. Since going up a waterfall would have been impossible, nature had a little help in one area of the river. A dock had been constructed on the opposite side of the waterfall to facilitate passage back up the river. The dock area also served as a makeshift swimming hole.

With smooth precision, Jerry steered our canoe to the edge of the structure. One by one, we swiftly disembarked, then pushed the canoe through the passageway. Once through, we hopped back into our vessel.

From there, we glided at a leisurely place, sated by an afternoon of fun and adventure, and simple entertainment. Trudging back up to the trailer, Brian repeatedly asked why we didn't see the alligator. I appeased him with optimism that maybe we'd have more luck next time (under my breath, I let out a sigh of relief). That, along with the promise of ice cream, worked wonders.

"I'll have a Nutty Buddy," Brian quickly replied, seeming to have forgotten about the unsuccessful quest for alligators - lucky for me.

Jane Neubauer is a freelance writer and mother. She lives in Coral Springs. This article was previously published in South Florida Adventures magazine.