He Ran from the Law. Now He Runs the Rio Grande

My path to a life on the Rio Grande began when I stole a police car. We were eight teenagers packed into a VW bug, and we’d spent the day on the river, drinking beer. The cops pulled us over. When the driver resisted arrest, they wrestled him to the ground. Another cop pulled up. He left his door open and the engine running. They weren’t paying attention to me, so I got in and hit the gas. I’d only been driving for a year and a half, but I’d been delivering flowers and knew every road. The police chased me, but they didn’t catch me.

I parked the cruiser at the police station and fled to Colorado. Within about a year, though, I knew I’d made a horrible mess of my life. My elders had taught me to go to the highest point you can reach and pray for guidance. So I hiked up Sugarloaf Mountain and started praying. Then I heard a voice from above. It was a Merle Haggard tune, “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive.” A tower carrying power lines into Boulder evidently was acting as a radio receiver. The words were clear as day: “I’m a hunted fugitive with just two ways: outrun the law or spend my life in jail.”

I hitchhiked back to Taos and turned myself in. I’d planned to follow in my father’s footsteps and work as a scientist at Los Alamos National Laboratory, but with my record, that path wasn’t an option. After I’d served my sentence, I was hired by the state’s first commercial rafting company. In 1978, I took over the business and named it Los Rios River Runners. Running a whitewater rafting business in the middle of the desert during a drought has its challenges. To survive, we’ve expanded our offerings to include cultural events, music, yoga and qigong workshops. That healing energy is still there, even when the water is low.

There’s no deeper connection than what I have to this river. The water we’re floating on feeds our crops. It’s the water we drink. It’s our being, our substance, our energy, our soul. For me, it’s my livelihood, and something I work to protect. I’m a founding member of a nonprofit group that fights to keep the river clean and hold polluters accountable.

I don’t have a retirement plan or a 401(k), but I have this company. Many of our river guides have worked for me for 30, 35 years. I’ve seen many marriages and a whole batch of kids come out of those relationships, and we have several second-generation guides.

I’ve learned to trust and empower my employees — to go with the flow. Everything is in waves. Water comes in waves, light comes in waves, energy comes in waves. Your life is a series of waves. Up and down, up and down. You’re here now, but in a little while you’re going to be someplace else.

Cisco Guevara, 73, is the president of the Taos-based water protection group Amigos Bravos. He has been guiding rafting trips on the Rio Grande for over 50 years.