I agree in principal. But I’m not sure it should be hard and fast regulation. I have an example from my own experience of what might be such a possible exception. I’ll try to be brief…
A long long time ago I did a weekend canoe trip, the first with my future ex-wife. She had a van for transport, I had the canoe. We planned to do two nights out ending our trip at Starved Rock State Park in Illinois. The grand finale of the trip was locking through the 30’ dam at the park and taking out at the boat landing just below the dam. It was a trip I’d done many times in my high school and jr high years. At the last minute a friend, housemate, a wood worker, asked to use the van for the weekend to pick up a load of beautiful curly maple that he found for next to nothing but he had to salvage it in a Chicago factory and transport it that weekend. So we arranged for him to drop us off, use the van, and pick us up on Sunday mid-afternoon at the Starved Rock landing.
The trip went without a hitch, island camping and paddling through beautiful weather. We got to the dam ahead of schedule but -surprise - the lock at the dam was closed for reconstruction. In all the years paddling there I’d never seen or heard of such a thing - there’s a lot of barge traffic that relies on that lock and a great deal of commercial loss would result from closing it, but there it was before us: closed.
The park, on river right, is a several hundred foot high sandstone cliff and the cliffs ran for miles upstream and without landings. River left was rip rapped about 20’ over the water and topped with chain link fence. No take out there… but there was a marina about a mile upstream on river left that would do in a pinch, but Charlie (the wood worker) wouldn’t know to look for us there and this was long before cell phones.
No problem… there was a little beach, barely longer than the canoe at the base of a cliff near the dam and maybe 10’ over it a big ledge where we could hang out in relative comfort . Over that ledge was another narrower one that could be walked to round the cliff face and which led to a gully that could be climbed up to a trail that could be taken to the park proper and the boat landing. I’d just climb up there, hike out, meet Charlie at the landing, tell him to meet us at the marina, go back and paddle upstream and across the river and take out there. I’d brought enough cash to take him out for a burger or something to end the trip.
So I got to the landing on time. And waited. And waited. It was crowded with tourists and kids. They were buying hot dogs and parents were drinking beer from stands. Quite a change from quiet river tripping. Mid afternoon turned to early evening and no Charlie. I made a few phone calls from a pay phone to the house we shared but there was no answer - and this was before answering machines, too. (Guess they don’t use tubes) . Finally there was nothing left to do but dig into my after trip burger fund, buy a hot dog for Anita (future ex-wife) and go back. We set camp and spent a frosty extra night out, but we had some food, coffee, and water left - it was no dire situation. Quite a nice night out actually. The river was beautiful in the moonlight with lights from the dam twinkling across the ripples.
Next morning we decided to switch off taking four hour shifts at the boat landing, making calls to our house and mutual friends who might know if he’d been in an accident or what happened. Nobody was answering calls - what the heck was up? And sitting on that ledge watching the dam and the humming birds who enjoyed the flowers that we were camped near. Every hour or so there was a guy who came and walked the dam - checking gauges and flows, we supposed. There must be things to tend to on a hydro plant that large, we figured, even if the locks were shut down. So every hour or so whoever was on the ledge waved to the guy, and he waved back. Friendly folks on the river.
Late on the next day, when we were wondering if we’d have to pitch the tent again for another night Anita waved to the guy, he slapped his forehead, and a half hour later a DNR jon boat came over to the beach.
Turns out Charlie was looking for a boat at the landing, not a person. When he didn’t find it he reported us “lost at sea” and went home to tell everyone we were probably dead. They went to the bar to drink to our beloved memories. We were more beloved than either of us knew and they drank a lot. No one we knew stayed home by the phone, there was mourning to attend to. The guy on the dam was Coast Guard and he was looking for our bodies or our canoe to be caught up in the turbine grates. (Who knew there was Coast Guard on a mid western river?)
And thus we were “rescued”. If someone had tried to charge me a fee for that though, I assure you I would have contested it.