We drove through Yosemite a few weekends ago. It was packed with summer travelers and waterfall gawkers. The major falls are glorious, and fuller than they have been in years. New, smaller falls have even appeared much to the delight of park goers.

As we drove through the park, out past Mono Lake, we were stunned by the high water levels and snowy peaks in early July. We laughed, thinking that we could even cross-country ski in some spots above 7000 feet.

Record snowfalls this winter and heavy unseasonable rain in summer have made conditions epic for nature lovers but also hazardous.

Yosemite is drawing crowds, and visitors to the park should exercise caution while viewing the many falls and swollen creeks and rivers. Since June, there have been at least two people confirmed dead and two missing and presumed dead. The park has banned water rafting on the Merced River until the flows subside to their normal levels.

My son and a group of friends made the trek to Wapama Falls, a wonderful hike which wraps around the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The photos were astounding, but just days later a Doctor and a friend, both experienced backpackers, were swept away by the torrents when crossing a small footbridge.  Sobering for the folks who took my son, who in hindsight, were fearful of the awesome cascade.

As we made our way back to the Sierras, we stayed at a friend’s house near Kirkwood Ski Resort. I took a short walk, alone, down to the “creek,” heretofore a tiny trickle, where as toddlers, my kids frolicked. At nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, the mule ears were just sprouting and snow patches still remained in early July. I decided to cross the creek and make a circle. Quickly I aborted my attempt. This repeated several times as the current was just too treacherous. I realized I was on my own and if swept away, it would not be a good scene.  I finally found a reasonable crossing point, and with numb legs and feet, made my way to the other side. Not only is the water higher, but it felt colder.

A recent article by Jane Brody in the New York Times Science section offers simple, but useful tips for both beach and mountain water fun. So get out and enjoy the majesty, but respect the elements and have caution!

Recently I joined a mini reunion of college pals in Sun Valley, Idaho for a trifecta of outdoor activities: mountain biking, fly-fishing, and river kayaking.

Read all about it in the San Francisco Chronicle travel section: Sun Valley’s Summer Rush.

There are many popular canoeing rivers in Northern California. The Sacramento River, from Red Bluff, 30 miles downriver in the shadows of Mount Shasta, to Woodson Bridge, is not one of them.

It was July 4th weekend so we were expecting crowds, and save for a few kayakers and boat enthusiasts, we pretty much had the river to ourselves.  We had planned a moderate backpacking trip but when one in our party had abrupt knee surgery in April, we opted to paddle to our campsite instead of forcing the kids to hike with packs a la the Bataan Death March.  The preparations were similar to a backpacking trip, but we could bring comfy pads and a cooler. I was concerned about tipping the canoe, but my friend hails from Minnesota and has done this sort of thing before.

We rented canoes at the Driftwood RV and Fishing Resort in Los Molinos, CA. The crowd at the park was definitely more of a beer drinking, horseshoe throwing, BBQ crowd, some more hardscrabble than others. The equipment we rented was in great condition and they provided life jackets (of course) and unexpected cushions and small portable seat backs, which made the trip that much more comfortable.

It must be said that the Sacramento River flows, so the canoeing is anything but arduous. We actually did a lot of floating, which was fine with me, since I was in a canoe alone with my two boys, ages 10 and 6. It was glorious, and gave us time to enjoy the scenery. We saw tons of birds: osprey, pelicans, an eagle, egrets and even though the water was chilly we often pulled ashore to frolic and sort of swim. The temperature was in the 100’s so the snow melt temperature of the water was much appreciated.

The first night we canoed back to the Driftwood, feeling a bit insecure about the whole thing and wanting to get our proverbial feet wet first. This spot is clean, well maintained and has that feel of most camp sites, like perhaps they had their heyday in the ’70s. The manager was sweet and brought us pastries in the morning and charged the kids 40 cents for cans of generic “pop.”

The second night, we decided to pull up on shore and set up camp. We were told (and did a bit of research) that the banks are pretty much public land, so we could pitch a tent anywhere we pleased. The challenge was picking a spot and not feeling like there might be a better one around the bend.

It was a perfect spot and the kids enjoyed the clay-like mud. Having been engrossed in the FIFA World Cup, they were smitten with South African names and promptly named the mud “Mbele”… literally hours of mud play ensued, what more could you ask for an outdoor adventure? No ipod, video games or TV, even if the photo looks a bit like Lord of the Flies. We cooked on backpacking stoves, enjoyed the sunset and slept surprisingly well.

You can explore the small offshoots of the river, finding a variety of small beaches and spots to investigate. We finished up our journey and the Driftwood folks met us to take our gear back to the RV Park. They hired a local to drive one of our cars to meet us — all in all a pretty seamless adventure.

Which is a good reason to find an outfitter who can handle the logistics. Some top adventure companies offer trips on the Mekong, but these are mostly cruises. For journeys by kayak, Bangkok-based river explorer Steve Van Beek brings something extra: 40 years of residence in Southeast Asia and almost as many years exploring the region’s rivers.

I first met Steve about 20 years ago when I was passing through Bangkok on my way to Nepal. A mutual friend told me I had to call him when I was there because Steve had been living in Bangkok for decades and had a profound knowledge of Southeast Asia. Despite jet lag and a short layover I rang him up, we met for lunch, and our paths have been crossing ever since.

Steve was the guy I called for news from the street when a coup took place in Bangkok. He was a source for Thai literature, a repository of cultural and historical knowledge, and an engaging storyteller. His book, Slithering South, chronicled the first full paddle descent of Thailand’s Chao Phraya River — a trip he made solo — and shed light on the characters and culture of these remote regions accessible only by water.

Now he runs tours on the rivers of Southeast Asia, primarily the Mekong as it makes its way through Laos. Outside magazine called one of his trips “one of 48 trips of a lifetime.” Joshua Kurlantzick in The New York Times reported on a startling discovery he made on one of his tours. National Geographic Adventure also featured his trips in a story about Mekong River journeys.

All of which made me begin thinking about the Mekong — in a positive light these days — and wondering if I can cross paths again with Steve, this time on the water. I’ve never been on a river trip with him, and it’s time to get my paddling skills in shape.

Last week I was invited to a friend’s rental house in Inverness in Marin County, on Tomales Bay, surrounded by Point Reyes National Seashore, with my five-year-old. We left the house at 7 a.m. to maximize our visit, stopped at House of Bagels (the best bagels in SF) and bought loads of yummy stuff and headed over the bridge.  The sun was shining and I was so looking forward to spending quality time with my friend and her family.

Inverness is a small village named after the Scottish town and there is so much to recommend it. Views in every direction, swimming in Tomales Bay (we couldn’t this year because jelly fish invaded the small beach we usually go to), lovely shops nearby in Inverness and Point Reyes Station, killer fresh oysters, hiking, biking, birdwatching, mushroom hunting and so much more.

My friend’s husband is an avid unicyclist and loves to hit the local trails. It helps that the house they rent is just stellar, exactly the kind of place I dream of owning, even down to the sauna built overlooking Tomales Bay. We lit a fire, toasted with champagne and ate some local Cowgirl Creamery cheese and fig tapenade as the sun went down and then tucked into a yummy meal with a homemade fruit cobbler for dessert. This is why I live in the Bay Area…it was so hard to leave the next morning.

I had been to the same spot last summer for an epic 50th Russian Dacha birthday party, where many guests camped and a Russian BBQ ensued with a zip line, trampoline, bubbles, pool, jacuzzi and pogo-sticks for the big and little kids and of course shots of vodka and blinis for the hearty adults. This time it was for a five-year-old’s party, the daughter of my friends, the innkeepers.

Healdsburg lies at the crossroads of three of California’s most famous wine growing appellations: Dry Creek Valley, Alexander Valley and the Russian River Valley. It is surrounded by more than 60 wineries and is a favorite Sonoma Wine Country destination.

It was a surprise when I realized my son’s week at “Farm School” would be just down the road from the B & B. Deergnaw, as it is called, is an estate owned by the founders of my son’s small school in San Francisco. Synergy School 4th-8th grade students are lucky to spend a week in the spring at Deergnaw studying botany, gardening, fishing, writing poetry in the forest, hiking, camping, swimming, kayaking and learning about nature as an integral part of the curriculum. They all return in the autumn for Harvest Day. I have been looking forward to this since Sasha was a wee kindergartner. Parents told me it was a peak Synergy experience and since I love all of the above I was keen to help out, as were many other parents.  At any given time there were at least 8-10 parents and three teachers for 21 kids! I include all this seemingly random information because the experience was just so amazing, something every kid should experience.

I taught poetry writing one day, yoga the next and was a raft monitor in the afternoons. The location was just so stunning. I had been to a camp with my 4-8th grades in the 70’s outside NYC, but it was truly a camp: wooden bunks, sulphur-smelling water and lots of campfires. Alas, this time we couldn’t have a campfire because of our terrible drought and the advice/insistence of a 4th grade firefighter mom.

I was in awe of the beautiful property. We all camped, cooked and gathered outdoors, but the Deergnaw home, compound, estate whatever you want to call it, was right out of a Sunset Magazine spread, but not too precious—just perfect.  Built on more than 250 acres, Deergnaw is now an olive oil producing olive grove and one can buy their oil online and at local Farmer’s Markets.

The owners were not only gracious hosts but involved in the day to day schedule of Farm School. The parents helped with everything from cooking to tick removal. All the kids were obliged to do most of the work, including all the recycling, mulching and weighing the garbage to compare refuse production from year to year. Parents had moments to enjoy the surroundings. One dad took a killer mountain bike excursion, some fished in the pond. I hunkered down in a cushy hammock to read voraciously for an hour or so and squeezed in my own yoga practice on a beautiful deck overlooking a glorious garden.

We danced around a maypole, ate strawberries, cream and brown sugar and took a night hike to a spring. Each kid hiked alone in the dark, a sort of rite of passage/nature experience/empowerment exercise. I was only able to go for two days but look forward to future Farm School experiences and further exploring the Healdsburg area.

I took a deep breath, gazed at the horizon, looked down once more, then dove toward that memory. Down, down, arms reaching, chin tucked, feet pointed, down to the sea, slicing without impact into that lapis pool, cool silk caressing my skin. Down, down, into that radiant mystical sapphire that dazzles like a sunrise, like a shooting star, like a full moon glimpsed through autumn trees. Down into that blue that is so blue it feels like it’s reaching into the cosmos.

My favorite moments on the seven-day gulet trip were diving off the bow, swimming in that jewel-colored water, floating on my back looking into the blue sky, then rolling over and gazing into the depths that threw back an even bluer reflection. I never tired of it no matter how much the salt stung my eyes, and I gladly returned every day.

Paddling a kayak also provided a way to immerse myself in the seascape, feeling the paddle pulling the water as I propelled forward, exploring the shoreline out to the ends of the harbors and beyond. My moments of deepest tranquility—except for one moment of lying on deck looking up the main mast as the sails captured the wind—took place in the kayak.

These were the two activities I was loath to leave behind, so on our last day at sea I made sure to do both, swimming early and late in the day, diving off the bowsprit each time, then paddling slowly along the shore as the sun began to settle, giving up only when I knew it was time to move on, back to Bodrum, back to Istanbul and San Francisco and my life off the boat.

With the final paddle strokes I took solace in the knowledge that I would be back, as certain as the dolphins leap in the sea, the bathing beauties come to Cleopatra’s Island to show off their stuff, and the Turkish people welcome visitors with open arms.