Rafting the San Juan River: Explore Bears Ears with Ancient Wayves Indigenous Guides

On a sunny spring day on the San Juan River in Bluff, Utah, the water is just cool enough, the sun just warm enough, and the clouds just billowy enough to make for a perfect float day. The kind where you lean back, feet trailing in the water, paddling semi-reclined to fully soak up the sun — and the relaxed pace of the river.

This stretch of river flows a murky tawny-sage, chilly this spring day and running low due to a historically meager snowfall this winter. Downstream near the famous Horseshoe Bend, the water is crystal clear, according to my Navajo guide, Geri Kee. But I don’t mind the cloudiness here; I’m happy just to be on the water, my sun hat pulled low, a full water bottle within reach, accompanied by guides whose ancestors have called this area home since time immemorial.

As we paddle west, to my right are Bluff and Bears Ears National Monument, the first monument created at the request of a coalition of Native American tribes. To my left, Navajo Nation, the largest reservation in the country. The San Juan flows along much of that border, the lifeblood of the region.

Rafting the San Juan River with Ancient Wayves

I float along in a solo ducky, a robust inflatable kayak, with Ancient Wayves River & Hiking Adventures — a Diné-owned tour company and the only Native American outfit in Utah to offer San Juan River rafting tours and Indigenous-led tours in Bears Ears. Along for the ride are a group of high schoolers and their teachers scattered between tandem duckies and a multi-person raft. We’re paddling down a leisurely stretch of river with no real rapids to speak of, a family-friendly afternoon float, but I know there are more adrenaline-pumping river trips available from Ancient Wayves and I make a mental note to come back another time to partake.

On both sides of the river, invasive Russian olive trees line the banks, sucking up precious resources and flanking the route in a soft sage green. Red rock cliffs offer stunning contrast and I peer up to see if I can spot wildlife and count the shades of orange and cream stacked in layers that tell the story of time itself.

But all the wildlife I spot are Canada geese who yell and gather their ducklings as we pass, a lone hawk soaring overhead and once or twice a cow in the bushes watching quizzically as we float by.

This morning, we started at a put-in that Ian Lameman, my other Navajo guide, called “Swinging Bridge.” I can’t find it on a map, and there is no bridge there, but he explains it’s a put-in you have to know about to find. The name, he tells me, comes from history: there was once a bridge here, used almost exclusively for Navajo children living on the reservation to cross the river in order to get to the mission schools in Bluff.

He and Kee are full of historical knowledge, interpretive facts and tales from the region. After all, this is their backyard. “A lot of us grew up on this river,” Lameman says of himself and fellow Indigenous guides at Ancient Wayves. He’s been guiding on the San Juan for five years.

“This is home, it’s personal,” Kee adds, who’s been unofficially guiding on rivers in Utah for many years and lives on Navajo Nation. This is her first year guiding with Ancient Wayves.

It’s the same for many Ancient Wayves guides, all of whom are Indigenous. Louis Williams, company founder, and both my guides today are Navajo, but Zuni, Hopi and Apache guides lead trips down the river and across the landscape, most of whom have deep ancestral ties to the region and the land itself.

The Story Behind Utah’s Only Indigenous-Owned River Outfitter

In fact, Williams was driven to start the company in 2020 because of those personal ties. He’d spent years guiding for other river outfitters and found that guests repeatedly requested Indigenous guides on their trips. “We were very much in demand,” Williams remembers. “I was like, this is our backyard, the Navajo Nation, and there aren’t really any Indigenous river guides out here.”

So he sought to fill the void by giving other Indigenous guides a chance to share their land, heritage and wisdom in their way.

The result is a deeper connection to history and culture, one that has earned Williams and Ancient Wayves the 2025 JRNY Magazine America Award for top tourism experience in the United States, as well as the 2026 Navajo Nation Tourism Business of the Year award.

Williams wasn’t my guide today, but when I talked with him later, he spoke in a slow, relaxed cadence that mirrored the wide, wandering sections of the San Juan I’d just floated: not in a rush to get anywhere, just one sentence unhurriedly flowing into the next.

“Many are drawn to this region because of the history. They want to hear stories of this landscape from people who are connected to the region. That’s what we’re here for,” Williams says. After all, when you’re as deeply tied to a place as Ancient Wayves guides are, credibility is practically baked in. “All their stories are out there on the landscape.”

Exploring Ancestral Pueblo Sites and Native History

As we float, Lameman talks about geology, shares stories, identifies plants and offers historical insight about Mormon settlers and uranium mining.

At lunchtime, we stop on a narrow stretch of rocky bank for a colorful lunch and Lameman leads the group on a short hike to an Ancestral Pueblo archeological site with petroglyphs and the remnants of buildings that would be unreachable by most visitors. He points out pottery shards resting on the soil in the sun and instructs us to leave what we find.

Honoring Sacred Landscapes

As a sign of respect, I take no photos of the petroglyphs, which sometimes mark sacred burial sites for Pueblo societies.

"There's a spirit that resides here,” he says. "Not just the spirit of the land, but the spirits of people who have come before. Both are meant to be left in peace and reclaimed by the land, not other humans."

As we wander, he speaks of those people and their history, how they transitioned from a transient hunting culture to a more stationary agriculture-driven one as corn, beans and squash were introduced from Mexico.

In the afternoon, the wind picks up and the leaves of the cottonwood trees on the banks begin to chatter, calling to one another over our heads across the river. The water carries us slowly and we aren’t in much of a rush, so I chat with Kee and listen to stories of her love for the surrounding landscape and what it’s like to guide with an Indigenous-owned company.

“The water means a lot. It's got power. It's got life,” Kee says. “The water is a place I go to reset, breathe and enjoy.” And guides take the job of protecting and honoring the region seriously.

As for the company name and its unique spelling, “I had to squeeze that ‘y’ in there,” Williams says. I can hear him grinning through the phone. “It’s a perfect name for what we do. When we’re out there, we’re reminded of the ancient way of my grandparents and ancestors. We still know that ancient way.”

Combine that with the rhythmic movement of water, and you have a name that means something –– that celebrates the intimate relationship between heritage and landscape.

Indeed, the river is a magical place, and it's not just the area’s Indigenous cultures that find themselves drawn to the spirit of the water. It's me, too, a traveler with an open mind, two ears to listen and a heart to understand.