The case of too much rescuing

One of the things that’s true about standup paddling in an area where there’s not much standup paddling is that people don’t know what to do with you. Many times I have encountered people on the water who had never seen a standup paddler before. This can be pretty funny. One time I was crossing Peekskill Bay heading into land when I crossed paths with a couple of guys in a canoe. I said hello, and one of them replied with, “We thought you was Jesus walking on the water.” I’ve run into friends who were literally baffled by what they saw until they could see me, my board, and paddle clearly.

Those are funny moments, but what sticks out most is how people often think I’m in need of aid. I guess I understand. They see a lone standup paddler somewhere in the Hudson, miles from any landing, and think, “That guy must be in trouble. Let’s go help him!” It’s well intentioned, of course, but…

My most memorable trip was a few summers ago. I was doing my favorite run, 7.6 miles From Peekskill to the Bear Mountain Bridge and back. A really nice paddle past Bear Mountain, Anthony’s Nose (another mountain), and Iona Island. I always keep close to shore because that’s where it’s safest. So when a sailboat passed me in the boat channel, I had no problem. It was a hundred yards away. Maybe I’d get some wake? But then I heard a woman on the sailboat yelling at me, and yelling at me. And she kept yelling at me, even when her boat was a quarter of a mile away. I could barely make it out, except that it was some sort of warning.

What the heck? Was some monster coming down the river? Pirates? A tsunami? No, it was… a freighter. Yup, a ship, a kind I had passed dozens of times on the river. Whoever was shouting was convinced this ship, which would also pass at least a hundred yards away, was going to destroy me. Or maybe its wake would swamp me into the rocky shores? I don’t know exactly, but she yelled for a good five minutes. I felt bad for her. Expending so much energy about something that wasn’t a problem at all. And yes, the freighter did hit me with a wake, but if you’ve ever surfed even once on a paddleboard, boat wakes are no big deal.

Then on the way back another motorboat pulled out of the channel about 200 yards from me and stopped, pointing right at me. Just checking me out. As I got closer it pulled away, I guess satisfied that I wasn’t lost or something. As I got out of the Highland narrows a police boat then pulled up to me, signaling they wanted to talk. I paddled up to it, and the officer asked me, “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, you’re going against the tide.”

“I know. I’ve been doing that these last two miles.”

“Okay, just wanted to check in on you.”

“Thanks.”

Now I haven’t had that three-time repeated, but it still happens from time to time. Two weeks ago I was paddling and a Coast Guard boat Stopped and checked me out, and then last week it happened again, with the same boat (I think). Not that I truly mind when the safety patrol checks up on me. It’s good. But I hope in the years to come, the river patrol will get more comfortable with people standing on huge surfboards paddling the waters of the Hudson. Right now paddlers, even kayakers, on the Hudson aren’t that common. 

But that’s changing! Maybe in the future fellow boaters will see that a large wake is no big deal. That despite a paddleboard’s small size it can maneuver around obstacles better than most watercraft. That if you find a paddleboard out in the river, far from any launch point, maybe that paddler’s doing just fine.