As I sat there on a manufactured rock, contemplating all the poor decisions in my life, a man I had never seen walked up to me and said: "Having trouble?" He looked sunburnt and grizzled, with a long, untrimmed beard, and with various bruises on his arms and legs. Fourth mistake: undeserving mistrust.
I was suspicious. I grew up in the rock-climbing world of the 1970s, then later the mountaineering world of the 1980s and 1990s. Perhaps my experience was worse than average, but I found that among those groups, esprit de corps was rare among climbers not of the same group, and the typical sentiment about outsiders in trouble was: sucks to be you!
"Yes," I said to the stranger. "I should have scouted the run."
"Me too," he said. "I wiped out a bunch of times before I gave up. You need help?"
I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. Help? From a stranger? "I forgot my boat cart, I'm worn out, and my boat is heavy as hell." I still expected him to say something snarky and walk away.
"I've got a wheel," he said. At this point I was still not sure the stranger wasn't crazy or just messing with me. "I left it under a bush," he said. Bewildered, but with no better option, I followed him back upstream to the Upper Pond, right near the boat and gear-rental area. There was a huge patio, and in the middle of it was a raised garden, thick with small evergreen shrubs. He reached under a bush and pulled out a collapsible wheeled boat cart. I was sure this was a bizarre dream. Back at my boat, he helped strap my canoe on his cart and then continued to help me push it down the path. He even helped me carry it across a bridge, assisting me all the way to the Lower Pond. He unstrapped the wheel, and I dropped my canoe in the water.
"Thanks!" I said, feeling like I should offer him cash or a beer, or at least say something more appreciative. But before I could say anything else, he just waved and disappeared into the crowd. I didn't see him again, despite being there for three more days. (If that sounds freaky, I assure you it was much more surreal in person.)
Overall, I have found the paddling community to be helpful, generous, and kind. But it would be foolish to always expect that when you get in trouble, just the right person will show up at just the right time with just the right gear.
The first rule of safe paddling is to prepare adequately, and that includes thinking about the river approach and exit. We are all looking forward to the day when the GW Canal Violettes Lock Loop will have better access to get from the river to the canal. Many injuries occur just getting onto or off of the river. Also, consider bail-out points along your route, in case things don't go as planned.
Second, even on familiar runs, do a lot scouting. Boat scouting is fine, but often to really see what's going on you need to get out and take a look from shore. It's not just branches or trees; there might be a canoe or kayak wedged exactly where you need your boat to be, and that might make the safe lines of the rapid completely different than they were just minutes earlier.
Finally, consider making a little rescue practice part of your paddling day. Taking a one- or two-day class is great, but when it's not incorporated into your on-water experience, skills rapidly diminish. Practice throwing your rescue rope. You can do this on land, or when you stop for a break while paddling. Pick an easy rapid and swim it, thinking about how to get yourself out of trouble if you come out of your boat. Practice wading with and without your paddle, always being mindful of the danger of foot entrapment. Always travel in a group.
Be safe out there, have fun, do a lot of planning, and be thinking ahead. And if anyone happens to see a sunburnt apparition with an unkempt beard, tell him I said hello and thanks a million!