Building on last year’s momentum, I have been fishing a lot from my kayak this spring. When I bought the yak, I thought I would use it mostly as a ferry to get to inaccessible surfcasting spots and to fish freshwater from time to time. I couldn’t have guessed how much I would come to enjoy fishing from it and how much I would learn about striped bass and other species while casting from this little, pedal-powered boat!
On Memorial Day night, a friend texted me to ask if I would like to take the yaks out for some after-dark bassing on Narragansett Bay. I thought about it, but ultimately decided that I didn’t want to be a ‘sitting duck’ in the middle of an open highway of boaters on what is one of the biggest boating (and drinking) days of the year. He went on the bay and I elected to go alone on a quiet tidal estuary where I rarely ever see any boats.
My kayak is decked out with many safety features that are designed to protect me from being run over and feel very safe in it. Just like I always do when leaving for a night trip on the kayak, I dimmed the screen on the fishfinder so I could see better when looking ahead, I double-checked my PFD to make sure it was secure, and pulled the lighting remote out of the floor storage hold, flicked on the interior lights and shoved off from the shore. As I pedaled away from the ramp, into the fading twilight, I came into a narrow stretch and heard the distant whirring of an outboard motor.
Unfazed, I grabbed the remote and flipped on the running lights, these are four 12-inch sections of “police car blue” LED strip lights that shine so brightly I feel like I’m manning the turntables at an all-night rave! The water around me glowed like I was about to be abducted by aliens and the boat – seemingly simultaneously – came into view. Still a quarter mile away, I figured he’d see me and slow down. But, he wasn’t slowing down and he wasn’t changing course, in fact, it felt like he was coming straight at me!
My senses heightened as I tried to predict his track and pedal out of it, but no matter how I steered it still felt like I was directly in the crosshairs. I considered what I would do if he closed within, say 50 yards, and my only option would be to abandon ship! I did NOT want to do that! I felt so helpless in my glowing kayak, I figured this guy just wasn’t paying attention or maybe threw back a few too many at some dockside party and just wasn’t thinking straight.
As he closed in, I was certain that he would hit me; 500 feet, 400 feet… the motor still growling the boat still on a crash course. Suddenly, the idea came to me to flip on my headlamp, kick it up to “bright” and switch it over to the white lens. I clicked the light on and trained the beam on the boat… 300 feet, still no change. My heart began to pound, I felt a lump squeeze through my throat and settle at the back of my tongue, my breath quickened. I shifted my weight to prepare to leap off the yak! In a last ditch effort, I began tossing my head back and forth, to make the light move and – hopefully – get his attention. Of course the glowing blue LEDs hadn’t raised any flags so… what hope did I have?
One-hundred-and-fifty feet, I was leaning out to the right, thinking about that 59-degree water, planning to dive deep to avoid the prop. He FINALLY veered off and didn’t even slow down, didn’t offer an apology, didn’t even give me a sheepish wave. I screamed an adrenalin-fueled line of obscenities that would offend Joe Pesci, but I’m sure he didn’t even hear me.
Boaters, it is of the utmost importance to be aware of your surroundings when you’re out on the ocean, or on a seemingly deserted backwater. I get it, a kayaker might seem like a nuisance and having to slow down for some guy going 4 mph in his glorified swanboat might feel like an imposition to your ‘flow’. But I need to remind you that this nuisance you perceive is a being powered by a father who loves his daughter very, very much and if you take him away from her, because your flow was interrupted or because you were live streaming your boat ride on TikTok, that is 100% on you and that’s a life-altering mistake that no one should have to live with. We all share the water for the same reason, to expand our experiences and enrich our lives… don’t forget that every vessel, no matter how large or small, carries human beings with lives of their own and people who love and depend on them, just as you do.
