It had been a long day. A long week, too. Actually, at that point, it had been a long, exhausting season of tournament coverage. I needed a break.
So, I did what most of you would do and I loaded up and headed for the water. My first thought was to roll out to the main body of Kentucky Lake and idle some ledges. But once I cruised out of the creek where I’d launched, I just wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t have the motivation to go idle and graph and get lined up and fish a whole rotation of baits. I wanted to relax, to chunk and wind along the bank.
That realization prompted a U-turn back to an island in the mouth of the creek. It was one of my favorite spots to stop in the evening on the way back to the ramp. Usually, I’d make a few casts with a topwater and call it a night, but that afternoon I decided to slow down and thoroughly scour it to see what was there.
While I didn’t find any fish, I came across something much more significant.
A few casts in, I heard a muffled cry. I held my rod down and looked around. Nothing. No boats. No people on shore. That was weird, I thought.
Cast … Twitch, twitch …
Then I heard it again. This time, I was sure: Someone was calling for help.
I trolled away from shore to look for the source. That’s when I saw it — a kayak floating in the creek. Behind it, an arm flailed at the sky.
I fired up the motor and fast-idled my way there to find an exhausted man in his 20s clinging to the gunwale of the kayak with no life jacket, his head barely above water. I grabbed his arm and steered him to the boarding ladder. He was so drained that I had to hook my arms under his shoulders and drag him onto the back deck. I have no idea how much time he had left, gripping the edge of that kayak for dear life, but I don’t think it was much.
It took several minutes of gasping and wheezing for him to regain enough strength to stand up, yet it took me all of five seconds to realize a big part of the problem — he was drunk.
The next few minutes were strange. He was understandably shaken, so to try to calm him, I talked. I assured him he was OK. I asked where he was headed. I asked how much he’d had to drink. Boy, was that a mistake. The question transformed his shock into anger, which eventually gave way to sobs. I eventually figured out that he’d gotten into an argument with some family and friends at a nearby campground, hopped in the kayak to get them off his back then fell off in the water too far from shore for them to see and too drunk to get back in.
When I dropped him back at camp, we were met with hoots and hollers from his buddies, who thought he’d gotten tired and bummed a ride. Even when I filled them in on how close he’d come to disaster, I drew a few snickers.
I figure now is a good time to share this story. May is the start of peak boating season, which means more pleasure boat and kayak traffic around your favorite fishing holes, and it’s important we all stay safe out there. National Safe Boating Week is also this month, a well-timed reminder to wear a PFD and refresh your safety know-how. Plus, to boat sober, of course.
I’m not here to lecture you on this subject, but I do hope my story instills a teensy bit of fear that could help motivate you to be extra cautious every time you launch your boat or shove off in your kayak. I mean, if I hadn’t pulled a U-turn that afternoon, I never would’ve heard that kayaker’s cries. His story might have ended much differently.
That’s not the kind of boating or fishing story I’d want for you.