Getting along with the "muggles"      It was as nice a day as I could ask for in late December: sunny, light wind, temperatures in the high 50s.  I was in sort of a bad mood (for reasons I won't go into here), and I was hoping some time alone on the river would cheer me up.      I had time for a 75-minute session, and I set out on a course that I typically paddle in this length of time: I would go downriver to the old Frisco Bridge, paddle up along the Arkansas bank to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and then head back into the harbor and return to the dock.      As I paddled out onto the Mississippi from the mouth of the harbor, I checked the commercial traffic.  A large tow was coming my way from upstream, but it was still well above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and I figured I had plenty of room to proceed into the main channel and head downriver.      Several minutes later, I heard a loud engine and looked downstream to see a powerful motorboat plowing northward.  I had seen this vessel many times before: based down at President's Island, it ferries supplies and personnel to and from moving towboats.  I paddled nonchalantly along as it roared against the mighty current.  Then it made an abrupt turn and came straight toward me.

Elmore's columns appear monthly at the Outdoors, Inc.,website: www.outdoorsinc.com

     Why do some people dislike us?
     I do my best to be pleasant and courteous to the non-paddlers I meet on and around the river (I'll call them the "muggles," as the non-witch population is known in the Harry Potter books).  I smile and say "good morning" to muggles who walk by while I'm on the dock taking my boat off the rack or putting it away.  I give a friendly nod to the muggles in motorized craft I encounter on the water.  Regarding safety, I try to set a perfect example at all times, never making any moves that might put me or anybody else in harm's way, and even wearing my life jacket rather than just having it in the boat, as Coast Guard regulations require.
     And I'm happy to say that I get along just fine with most muggles.  Many of them, in fact, think that what my friends and I are doing on the river is totally cool: "Oh, that just looks like so much fun!  Do you see lots of wildlife?  I'll bet the view of the city is awesome!  Could someone like me ever go out in a boat like that?"  Others are not so enthusiastic, but nevertheless convey polite curiosity: "You been doing that a long time?  Is it dangerous?  Aren't you afraid you're gonna tip over?"  And we currently enjoy a cordial relationship with the local authorities: both the Memphis Police Harbor Patrol and the Coast Guard have been supportive of our activities and appreciate our dedication to safe, skilled paddling.
     But there are some muggles who leave me puzzled no end.  Some of them have disliked us from the beginning, and it seems that nothing we can do will change their minds.  They neither understand paddlers nor want to understand paddlers.  They think we're weird, or Communist, or Satanist, or something.  Here's what I hear them saying about us:

Paddlers are irresponsible.  We are a foolhardy, daredevilish bunch who enjoy putting our lives in danger and relying upon public rescue authorities to bail us out of trouble.  The safety of others is less important than our adrenaline fix.  We're a bawdy, drunken pack of ne'er-do-wells who can never be counted upon to observe basic water safety rules.  If ever there's a near-collision between a paddler and a motorized boater, it's automatically the paddler's fault, say these muggles, because "the idiot had no business being on the water in the first place."

Paddlers are selfish.  Now and then I hear one of these muggles suggest that paddling our boats out on the river is a privilege, not a right, and that our activities should be subordinate to whatever their interests might happen to be.  This attack on paddlers is commonly used by spokesmen for corporations (or their flunkies in public office) that want to build a dam or discharge pollution into the river: "Those selfish kayakers think they're more important than the general public, whom, of course, it is our mission to serve."

Paddlers trespass on private property.  Some muggles seem to believe that somebody actually "owns" our rivers, and that we must obtain permission before paddling on them.  In recent years there have been heated disputes in places like Colorado, where landowners have used everything from barbed wire to the good old-fashioned shotgun to keep paddlers off the rivers that flow across their property.  Meanwhile, there is a belief among some that larger rivers, such as the Hudson, the Ohio, and the mighty Mississippi, are reserved for "industrial" use--shipping, waste disposal, and so forth.  I for one sort of like paddling among the barges and towboats, which add a real vibrancy to our community, but apparently nobody has told these people that the rivers were there for at least a few millenia before DuPont, General Electric, Lockheed, and all their corporate brethren showed up.

Paddlers are different.  Okay, so I haven't heard a muggle use these exact words.  But this is really the problem, now, isn't it?  We choose to pursue some activity other than the few accepted forms of "mainstream" recreation: golf, hunting, watching football, and the like.  And some muggles are intimidated by that.  I have no idea why, but they are.  I guess it's just easier for them to dislike us than to try to relate to us.
 

     Can we ever bring about a change of heart in these people?
     Frankly, I doubt it's worth the effort.  This is not really a problem of muggles-vs.-paddlers; it's a problem of human nature.  There will always be small-minded people in this world, and if they don't rear their heads in paddling circles, they'll just rear their heads in other parts of our lives.
     I think the best thing we can do is make sure that these people are never justified in their accusations.  Use the utmost consideration when paddling in public.  Be cheerful to all muggles, whether they deserve it or not.  Familiarize yourself with all federal and state boating regulations, and abide by all of them, even the ones that seem a little archaic or irrelevant to canoes and kayaks.  Be proactive in forming cooperative relationships with the Coast Guard, the state wildlife agency, and other authorities.
     Meanwhile, go about your paddling in a matter-of-fact way, as though there were nothing unnatural about it--because there isn't anything unnatural about it.  Here's my bold statement for the new year: paddling our boats is NOT a privilege.  It is our right.  And the people who would deny us this right are a minority--a loud, blustery minority, perhaps, but a minority just the same.  Timidity and docility will get us nowhere with these muggles.  We must stand up to them politely, but firmly.
     Now, turn off your computer and go exercise your right.  And have a wonderful year.