As students return to class around the country, family schedules and structures take on new shapes and sizes. For some moms, September brings that very first day of school. For others it may mean the nest is empty. The back-to-school season reminds me of a trip we did four years ago.

A Pre-College Adventure Vacation

As I glanced down the sandy bank, I could see my then 18-year-old son Alex rhythmically casting his fly into the Salmon River, intent on luring a trout. He was tanned and relaxed. His smile came easily as his angling efforts paid off.

I was looking for some uncomplicated time with my middle son before he went off to college at the University of Southern California (USC). Perhaps selfishly, I wanted his full attention—not those moments diluted by phone calls or text messages, the lure of the evening's social activities or side glances to catch the latest on ESPN. So off to the wilderness we went.

Our backcountry choice was the Salmon River, referred to as the River of No Return by the Lewis and Clark Expedition. What we found in Central Idaho was a river corridor of exceptional beauty meandering through two million acres of wilderness, exciting whitewater, calm river pools, white-sand beaches and traces of American history not likely found in any other river valley in North America.

I was more than willing to share our time on the water with my youngest son, Ted, who was about to miss his older brother as much as I would. From Boise, we climbed aboard a plane so small it seemed like a giant toy. Yet we nearly floated into Salmon, Idaho after enjoying up close and exhilarating views of the rugged mountain wilderness near Stanley and Sun Valley.

Salmon River Rafting

We were met by our charming host Wayne Johnson, owner of Salmon River Rafting, who would eventually impress us as a jack-of-all-river-trades. He informed, organized and otherwise herded us from our Salmon hotel to the water's edge.

We were in the good company of a father, his son and two grandsons from Michigan, a couple from Minneapolis and our guides Wayne, Steve and Megan. Once afloat, our group of 10 was dispersed among two kayaks, a rubber raft and the swift boat that carried our supplies down river.

Some of us were eager for the extra challenge (and exercise) provided by the kayaks. Others were just as content to relax in the boat, enjoying the near perfect weather and the surrounding Frank Church Wilderness. That is until we heard the rumble of rushing water ahead.

From the beginning, our guides carefully coached us to take the white water seriously and keep our feet first and down river should we end up in the drink. And it was a good thing! Over the course of five days, rapid after rapid, we screamed, splashed, strategized and steered our way in and around giant boulders, swirling holes and foamy waves that crashed over our heads.

My kayak partner Mark and I high-fived in pride for having stayed right-side-up more often than my two muscular teens traveling in tandem.

Evening Camping

Evenings were spent enjoying hearty food prepared by Wayne and his capable crew, then stories and poems around the campfire, and the company of our fellow adventurers. The biggest decision of the day was whether to assemble the tent or enjoy a peaceful night under the stars.

Wayne Johnson is a veteran of the river, having spent most of his adult life guiding through this wilderness corridor. His love for the flowing water, the natural surroundings and the significant history provides tremendous added value to the trip. As travelers on the Main Salmon River we found ourselves immersed in an historical gold mine with Wayne as our guide, telling tales of hermits and homesteaders, while leading us past grave markers and abandoned log cabins. We saw Native American pictographs and happily immersed ourselves in hot springs considered medicinal by the early native settlers.

On our final afternoon, Alex and I headed up a small creek from our campsite and spent the afternoon gleefully catching the most colorful trout either of us had ever seen. It was one of those magical afternoons, suspended in time, only the wilderness can provide.

I love adventure travel. And my favorite trips are those that include my family. Together, we’ve hiked through jungles, rafted wild rivers and skied the steeps.

But lately, I have been thinking about and discussing with friends and family, the delicate balance we seek when managing risk, fear, preparation, wisdom, loss, knowledge and exploration. Perhaps our formula is different when the situation involves our children. Perhaps not.

In the process I was reminded of an experience shared with my sons, Alex and Ted, during and soon after a trip to the Peruvian Amazon.

~ ~ ~

I saw sadness streaked across her face. Then our guide told us the story and I understood.

We had come to her home on the secluded banks of the Peruvian Amazon to search for the elusive poison dart frog in the adjacent jungle. The woman before me, her husband and four children cooked, dined and slept beneath a thatched roof covering a raised platform. There were no walls.

No doubt they received a small fee from our guide's lodge to allow us to slide our canoes on to their riverside beach and to welcome us for a short visit in their home.

But it was not our presence that veiled her eyes. It was this: A few weeks prior, the couple’s oldest son was sent 100 yards down to the river to collect water for their cooking. He did not return. Soon they went searching for him and discovered he had been struck by the deadly fer-de-lance snake. This creature, deeply feared by the river people, is sometimes called the “three step snake” - so deadly you can only walk three steps after its bite.

The family had no way to get their son to modern medical treatment. The local shaman was called, but the boy did not survive.

~ ~ ~

With this story thickening the already hot and humid air, we wandered into the jungle and located many small colorful frogs. We were told their poison is still applied to the tips of darts used for hunting within the region. We then returned on the path crossing near the family’s home, climbed into our canoes and paddled back to our home base.

During our stay at the jungle lodge my sons and their friends were asked to join the local villagers in their soccer matches. The games took place at sunset, and I felt compelled to warn my sons not to venture into the jungle for the ball. We were told this was prime time for the deadly snakes to hunt. With the mother’s pained expression still haunting me, I studied the natural floor during our jungle hikes, determined to spot the mottled skin of the exotic, mysterious snake.

Soon, after fishing for piranha, visiting a native village and zip lining through the canopy, we returned home.

~ ~ ~

Within weeks after our return to our Scottsdale, Ariz., home, we were enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. Teddy was watching a movie in the study. I was finishing some work at my desk. As my husband walked toward the hall powder room, he stopped to chat with me for just a moment. Fortunately, as he spoke, he put his hand on the door, moving it in slowly. In doing so, a loud noise erupted. Was it a water pipe? Some sort of electrical malfunction?

No. It was the rapid tail movement of an angry diamondback rattlesnake. Stunned, we realized that the rattler had done his part. He had warned us with a surprisingly vigorous alarm, one designed to be heard in the desert. It now echoed strangely off thick, slate floors.

My husband and son wisely stuffed towels under the bathroom door so the snake would not disappear into the house. I called the fire department.

The firefighters arrived quickly, amazed that the snake had slithered into our home. Using their cleverly designed extraction tool, they removed the diamondback to the natural desert beyond our patio.

Later, we discussed how easy it would have been to have an unpleasant encounter with the poisonous rattler as he meandered within a few feet of each of us.

And we spoke of our rigorous planning and preparation and concern for safety in some of the wild places we had explored ... and how ironic it was that our closest call came within the “safety” of our own home.

My Internet connection was down for about seven hours today, and I nearly lost my mind after hour four.

Then I decided to take my daughter out for ice cream and to the bookstore, and when we got home we actually (gasp!) read one of the books we bought together.

Sometimes it pays to be offline. But did you know that, according to a survey by CareerBuilder.com, nearly one in four workers plans to stay connected while on vacation?

I remember the days when no one had a cell phone or a laptop. Those were the two blessed weeks my very busy, very corporate dad completely unplugged from work and spent time with our family.

We rented a cottage on Cape Cod that only had local phone service, a move meant to discourage teens (like me) from running up long-distance bills.

And Al Gore hadn't gotten around to inventing the Internet, either.

I'm not traveling at all this summer, due to an impending delivery via stork. I work from home, making it extra hard to unplug. But after seeing my daughter’s face light up when I suggested a little cookie-dough ice cream in the middle of a weekday afternoon, I just may have to take a staycation and turn off my laptop.

What about you? Planning to stay in the loop when you’re at the beach? Why or why not?

Sometimes I have to think long and hard about what attire I should sport when I travel by plane. Usually, I just roll out of bed and put on the first thing that’s clean so I don’t miss my flight, but sometimes I take the time to plan my traveling outfit. Unless I need to dress nice specifically for an occasion I plan to attend after deplaning, I tend to be pretty casual when traveling via aircraft.  However, after reading an article about Southwest’s past of kicking passengers off due to “inappropriate dress” it seems that dress can now also dictate not just your comfort level, but your travel plans as well. As an avid Southwest flyer, I want to share my hassle-free travel style secrets that have yet to get me asked to leave from any flight.

My first and perhaps most important style necessity are my sandals. I can always be found in a pair of Reef sandals whenever I travel. First, they make the security line ordeal a lot easier; they just slip right off. Sometimes they won’t even make you take off your sandals if they are discreet enough. (Shhh! That will be our little secret). Secondly, they are the most comfortable footwear I own. You will not catch me dead flying in heels, even if I were in first-class. I know that some of you may be cringing thinking about walking on that security line floor, but I’m not a big germaphobe, and I figure as long as I don’t use my feet to eat, I’m ok. How do my poor tootsies deal with the cold, you may be asking yourself? Well, I always carry a pair of socks or travel slippers in my carry-on for just such an occasion. In October, I was lucky enough to enjoy a first-class trans-Atlantic trip (yes, wearing my sandals). On top of one of those great little travel bags with the lotion, shampoo and other travel necessities, I was also given a pair of travel slippers on each flight. Now, a pair is always stuffed into my carry-on bag.

I am not what anyone would call a graceful or coordinated person, by any means. So with the added stress of a crowded airport or waiting area or turbulence, I become what my dear friends refer to as “Spilly McSpillerson.” Many a-time I have been in the middle of a seven hour plus traveling day when—BOOM—turbulence puts some of the cranberry juice that I had been drinking onto my white tank top. I can’t count the times I’ve seen hurried passengers accidently bump into each other, spilling their $4 coffee all over the floor. Instead of bringing a stain pen, I have opted to go for blacks, or generally dark colors, whenever I fly. Darks will at least mask any spills that may occur in the course of your travels. Accidents can happen anywhere and at anytime. What could be worse than having to spend your two-hour layover and three-hour flight, which is a third of your day, with a stain on your light-colored clothes?  Consider bringing a sweater or pull-over in case of a spill. It can also double as an extra layer when the passenger next to you cranks up the air. On top of that, you can never be too sure that your checked bag with your entire trip’s wardrobe will actually show up at baggage claim. Imagine spending your first day in said stained clothes. No thanks!

Ultimately, my chief concern (as with most other people I imagine) is my comfort whenever I travel. That is why I like to wear loose and breathable fabrics. Cotton T-shirts and comfortable jeans are my preferred outfit. If something is too tight, or if it’s not very breathable like nylon, the next few hours of your life in the coach seat is going to be a squirm-fest. Not to mention that airplanes are the most notoriously temperature-manic places your could ever be stuck in. So if you want to look cool and actually feel cool while taking your next aero journey, consider what makes you comfortable, what type of climate changes you may be facing and the hidden dangers that lurk around every corner.

May 21-28 we spent a week at the Melia Cabo Real in beautiful Cabo San Lucas, at the tip of Baja California Sur. The resort had everything we could ask for: excellent food, beautiful rooms, great service, stunning pool, and plenty of cold jugo de piña (pineapple juice) for the kids and draft Corona for the grown ups. If you have kids and are looking for the perfect family vacation spot, this is it. There’s a kids club open from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., and 2 p.m. to 5 p.m., that also has an evening activity planned each night.

We left the resort only a few times, and would have been fine not leaving at all, but wanted to explore the destination a little. We booked the dolphin encounter, which was a big hit with the parents but not super popular with our sons, Owen and Wyatt. It was a windy day, and the dolphin tank was quite cold. I think the boys are smiling like this because they’re glad it’s over.

One morning we took a glass-bottom boat from the harbor out to El Arco (the arch) and Lover’s Beach. This iconic stretch of sand sits is at the very tip of Baja and straddles the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez. It’s kind of an adventure to get to since there’s no dock—you literally jump off the boat at the surf break and run up on to the beach.

On another evening, we had dinner at The Office on the Beach[The Office on the Beach|http://www.theofficeonthebeach.com/]. The restaurant was great and the view of the bay and the arch amazing, but that stretch of Cabo is like stepping onto the set of MTV Spring Break, which made me appreciate even more where we were staying.

Our last excursion was a quick snorkeling trip in Chileno Bay—tons of fish and great water clarity. As good as anything we’ve seen in the Caribbean or Hawaii.

We were all a little misty-eyed to leave the Melia but we will be back!