My Front
Row View

For the record, I’m not one of those people who camps out at busy launch ramps with a full video crew, hoping to capture clickbait footage to boost a YouTube page. We’ve all had mishaps launching or retrieving a boat; the last thing we need is to have our mistakes amplified for a national audience, right?

So why was I sitting on a bench overlooking two launch ramps on a busy summer evening? I guess I was just there for entertainment? Not really sure. Traveling for work has its highs and lows, with the highlights being meeting and interacting with new people. When traveling solo, I often look for an excuse to be around other boaters, even if it means looking like a boat ramp stalker.

I wasn’t intending to make an evening out of it, but the bench was too inviting. It was there in memory of Jean Ann Schuster. I wonder if she too enjoyed watching the action at the launch ramps enough to have a bench dedicated in her honor.

Either way, sitting on that bench overlooking the water brought me some peace. It was fun to watch families return to land after spending the day on the water. It reminded me of when my kiddos were younger.

I justified being there to seek launch tips from those with well-executed plans, but instead found chaos. I figured those exploiting boaters to benefit YouTube pages that show couples arguing at the launch ramp or PWC’s being launched onto docks must have spent hours or days to get their clickbait videos. Turns out it’s a lot easier than you might think. On my way to the bench, I witnessed a beautiful red boat that caught my eye, so I snapped a couple of photos. I was looking for a photo to run with this month’s how-to launch article anyway, so my timing couldn’t be more perfect.

That’s when I discovered the owner was having a hard time getting his pontoon back on the trailer. As he backed off for a third time, the bunk board from his trailer floated past him. Yeah, that could be a problem. I couldn’t help but continue to take photos of a carpeted board floating away. His wife parked the truck and then went for help. She and a kid from the nearby fuel dock were able to retrieve it while he pulled the boat around.

As they carried the board back to their trailer, I overheard the man mention me and wonder out loud why I had a camera. He thought he was whispering to his wife, but I could easily hear him from the bench.

This is when it occurred to me that I was coming off as a TMZ reporter. Clearly embarrassed, frustrated, and at his breaking point, the last thing he needed was some guy documenting his evening.

I put down the camera, asked if I could help, and was quickly shot down. I get it; the camera put him on the defensive.

I then started to wonder why no other boaters had offered to help. I was in a rental car with no tools, rope, or anything helpful, but surely someone could assist him. The couple was now in the parking lot, away from me and my camera as they tried to figure out the next step.

I noticed another boater approaching with straps and fought the temptation to follow. I had done enough to make the situation more difficult, even if unintentionally.

I gave up my bench-seat view, not knowing if the guy ever got his pontoon out of the water. I could post my photos that well documented the night, but that would make me as bad as the others who profit from others’ misfortunes.

Instead, I took the lesson to look for more opportunities to help others in need and to know when to stop taking photos. If I had put the camera away immediately and offered to help by retrieving the bunk board for them, their night might have gone a little easier. Lesson learned.

Brady L. Kay,
Pontoon & Deck Boat Editor