Updated October 13, 2026 04:33AM<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
You might have seen them before, packs of people dressed like Stevie Nicks climbing onto paddleboards and rowing out onto the water like a cast of Hogwarts extras. Witch paddles, as they\u2019re now generally referred to, began like all great unhinged ideas, conjured on a whim.<\/p>\n
What turned this spectacle into a full-blown spooky-season phenomenon? A few conveniently timed birthdays.<\/p>\n
Annette Ausseresses, the agreed-upon originator of the concept, had a tradition with her girlfriends of celebrating their Halloween-adjacent birthdays in witchy fashion. \u201cThe first year was dressing up as witches and going hiking,\u201d she says. \u201cThe next, we had paddleboards, so we said, let\u2019s dress up as witches and go paddling.\u201d It was October 2013, the place was Morro Bay, California, and unbeknownst to them, they\u2019d just unleashed a fury.<\/p>\n
So how did their little coven become a nationwide Halloween craze? Ausseresses credits two things: a local news story that went global on the Associated Press wire, and a woman in Portland who caught wind of the idea and decided to stir up some trouble of her own.<\/p>\n Enter Ginny Kauffman. She saw some pictures of Ausseresses\u2019 event and brought the concept to the Rose City in October 2017, taking to the Willamette River with just a couple of friends. But as word spread, Portland\u2019s sorceresses began multiplying.<\/p>\n \u201cPeople loved it because, well, this is Portland,\u201d she says about a city whose slogan is \u201cKeep Portland Weird.\u201d By 2019, the Halloween gathering had grown to 200 participants (men and kids included), and copycats began materializing elsewhere.<\/p>\n Then came COVID, a gloomy timestamp for even the most resilient of enchantresses. When the world finally emerged from isolation, Kauffman says the appeal of dressing like a witch or warlock and doing something gloriously ridiculous was even more powerful to resist. Witch paddles spread even further across the country, proving that Ausseresses had unwittingly tapped into something bigger than a Halloween gag: a desperate desire to play.<\/p>\n \u201cFor me, the best part is watching the joy that everybody has from it,\u201d Ausseresses says. \u201cI know that sounds super corny, but it really is. People are out there, they\u2019re meeting their friends, they are smiling, they have fun.\u201d<\/p>\n Kauffman agrees. \u201cPeople just want to be silly,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n These days, though, Kauffman no longer<\/a> leads the charge for Witches on the Willamette. What began as a casual paddle eventually became too much of a liability to continue, she shares.\u00a0Now, she keeps her witchery to private paddles with friends. Alas, no one has yet stepped forward to inherit her broomstick, leaving Portland\u2019s once-mighty coven without a head witch.<\/p>\n However, Ausseresses\u2019 event is still going strong down in California, along with plenty of other pointy-hatted armadas of men, women, and children, from mountain lakes to the Southern rivers.<\/p>\n Here\u2019s witch paddles across the country where you can get very SUPerstitious\u00a0this year.<\/p>\n Morro Bay Witches and Warlocks paddle<\/a> is the O.G. of these hex-cellent events, and you can expect to see founder Annette Ausseresses and many of her original crew out on the water once again, getting into double, double toil and trouble<\/i>.<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t require that you have a paddleboard,\u201d Ausseresses says. \u201cYou can do it in a canoe, a kayak, an outrigger. The local dragon boat team does it in the dragon boat.\u201d A couple of years ago, even Ausseresses\u2019 93-year-old mom, who passed away last month, took to the waters. \u201cI rented an electric boat and took her out on that,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n Around 500 people are expected for this casual \u201cmeet-up\u201d event.<\/p>\n Lake Havasu City Each October, more than 600 costumed participants and curious onlookers descend on the Bridgewater Channel near Lake Havasu\u2019s London Bridge for a wonderfully weird day on the water. What started as a local lark has become a full-blown pageant, with live entertainment, elaborate costumes, and plenty of photo-worthy magic. Register early via WitchPaddleHC.com<\/a> and come ready to join the spellbound scene.<\/p>\n Littleton,\u00a0 Colorado Anna Marie Madai of Littleton, Colorado, held her first Witch Paddle<\/a> at Chatfield Reservoir on a lark in 2021. \u201cEighty people showed up,\u201d she recalls. With eerie tree stumps jutting from the water and everyone having a blast, she decided to do it again.<\/p>\n The next year, she put the event on Facebook\u2014and got a message from the park. \u201cThey said, \u2018You have 14,000 people interested in your event. You can\u2019t hold that here.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Apparently, the spell had worked a little too well.<\/p>\n Madai partnered with Sacred Sister Collective, a 501(c)(3)<\/a>, and found a bigger home for her multiplying coven. This year\u2019s October 17 paddle is already sold out with 500 participants, but spectators can join the ghoulish gathering for free.<\/p>\n Sleepy Hollow, New York If ever there were a place destined for a witch paddle, it\u2019s Sleepy Hollow, New York, a\u00a0famous setting for the classic ghost story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow<\/em>.\u00a0Tara Scheller, owner of Rivertown SUP and Yoga<\/a>, launched the Hudson River SUP Witchfest<\/a>\u00a0in 2020 after hearing about Witches on the Willamette in Portland, Oregon.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was COVID, so I just reached out to my small paddle community and asked if they wanted to paddle on the Hudson,\u201d Scheller says. Sixteen people showed up. The next year, 50 did.<\/p>\n Then things got appropriately supernatural. After moving to Kingsland Point Park, the event ballooned to more than 100 paddlers, 50 vendors, and 1,200 spectators. \u201cIt was madness, but a good learning experience,\u201d Scheller says.<\/p>\n These days, the paddle has become a full-blown festival\u2014and Sleepy Hollow\u2019s spooky bona fides are enough to lure witches from well beyond the Hudson Valley. \u201cI\u2019ve met people who have driven in from Ohio, Connecticut, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey,\u201d Scheller says.<\/p>\n Macon, Georgia<\/strong> The Macon Witches Float<\/a> started with a cause behind the costumes. The event originally raised money for Macon Periods Easier<\/a>, a nonprofit working to combat period poverty by supplying menstrual products to local schools and agencies while making menstruation a little less taboo.<\/p>\n But as more costumed paddlers took to the Ocmulgee River each year, the event outgrew its volunteer roots. Visit Macon and Ocmulgee Outdoor Expeditions stepped in to keep it afloat.<\/p>\n \u201cWe still offer collection opportunities for products to benefit the event\u2019s original cause,\u201d says Marisa Rodgers, vice president and chief marketing officer of Visit Macon. Today, the float has become one of Macon\u2019s signature October events, joining a whole calendar of spooky-season happenings around the city. Paddleboarders, canoers, and kayakers are all welcome.<\/p>\n Spring Hill, Florida Florida\u2019s iconic Weeki Wachee Springs State Park may be best known for its dazzling mermaid shows, but on Halloween morning, another magical species takes to the water.<\/p>\n The Weeki Wachee Witches Paddle<\/a> sends a flotilla of pointy-hatted paddlers down the famously clear Weeki Wachee River, with witches trading broomsticks for kayaks and stand-up paddleboards. Breakfast is included, and festivities begin at 8 a.m,\u00a0sharp.<\/p>\n Costumes are strongly encouraged\u2014there\u2019s a best-dressed contest\u2014and every paddler (kids included) earns a medal simply for joining the witching hour. Registration is $40 for those bringing their own kayak or paddleboard and $60 with equipment rental through the park\u2019s kayak outfitter. Reservations can be made through Weeki Wachee Springs State Park or by phone, and space is limited.<\/p>\n Seattle, Washington When the pandemic forced Maari Falsetto to close Inner Alchemy<\/a>, her West Seattle spiritual practice, paddleboarding became an outlet. It also reinforced something she\u2019d been thinking about during lockdown: \u201cPeople need people.\u201d<\/p>\n Falsetto began organizing socially distanced outdoor gatherings, from sound baths to kundalini yoga. Then she heard about a witch paddle on Orcas Island and decided to conjure one of her own.<\/p>\nMorro Bay Witch and Warlocks Paddle, California<\/h2>\n
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Morro Bay
<\/b>October 24, 2026<\/h3>\nLake Havasu Witches Paddle, Arizona<\/h2>\n
<\/b>October 25, 2026<\/b><\/p>\nWitch Paddle, Colorado<\/h2>\n
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<\/b>October 17<\/b><\/p>\nSUP Witch Fest<\/h2>\n
![\"Witches](\"https:\/\/cdn.outsideonline.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/GettyImages-2241771521-scaled.jpg?width=3840&auto=webp&quality=75&fit=cover\"\/)
<\/b>October 10, 2026<\/b><\/p>\nThe Macon Witches Float<\/h2>\n
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October 5, 2026<\/strong><\/p>\nWeeki Wachee Witches Paddle<\/h2>\n
<\/b>October 31<\/b><\/p>\nWitches, Warlocks and Wizards Paddle on the Puget Sound<\/h2>\n
<\/b>Oct. 31<\/b><\/p>\n