Busy weekend. Coming out of the East River into Long Island Sound and passing Stepping Stones Light we saw another sailboat westbound headed straight for the wrong side of the light. They don't call them stepping stones for nothing. Seen many a boat, power and sail, come to a screeching halt there, at high tide. Hoping he had his radio on we called the sailboat approaching stepping stones to come out. There are rocks in there. Called him three times. Finally he heard, made a 180 and came around the right side of the light. Never responded to us. Later that same day we were off Lloyd's Neck near Oyster Bay. Wind gusting to 30, seas four feet. Great sailing! We saw in the distance a funny looking vessel, thought it was some guy fishing. When we get close, we see it is a canoe painted bright red, white and blue with a funny superstructure and one man paddling. "Somebody paddling for some cause," sez I to my wife. As we sweep by we see words on the hull that say (as I recall) "http://www.paddle-for-HIV/AIDS.com" I was right. Having satisfied my curiosity, we move on, whereupon the man shouts "Can you throw me a rope?" It was pretty boisterous out there and he did look tired. "You want a tow?" I ask. "Yes." So we round up, crank in the jib, drop the main (thank God for lazyjacks) and fire up the iron genoa. Getting alongside this canoe was no easy task. We drift down on him giving a lee and pass him a line, which he attached to something inside the bow of his boat. No cleat, no towing eye, no rudder and no way to use his paddle as a rudder. I should have called the Coast Guard and told them what we were up to but I did not. I'll not make that error again. We towed him on a long but not long enough line, engine at idle speed. He was sitting in the bow and I was sure the canoe would swamp and capsize at any moment. I did get him to move further aft, which helped. But that damned canoe was all over the place, surfing at one moment and threatening to swamp at the next. We passed an anchored sailboat off the Neck, with four guys on board. They gave us high fives and thumbs up and took pictures. Hmmm. An enormous catamaran came down on us and swept past feet away while the twenty or so people on board gawked. (Well, that's what got us into this in the first place -- gawking.) We towed him into the Sand Hole at half tide, ebbing. The hairiest part of the trip was that channel with the current running at 3 knots and big standing waves. We did not run aground and cast him off once safely inside in calm water. I told him that most of the beach was protected and patrolled (damned birds!) and directed him to an area where he could set up camp. Which he did. Dragged out a tent and set it up, I hope above high water. Never really got a chance to talk to him, expecting to row over and chat the next morning when I had to take the dog ashore. But he was gone by the time we were up. Once home, checked out the web site. He has been doing this for three years.