After being turned down on access several times by landowners on a creek that was crossed by a state road bridge, I finally parked in a pullout nearby, carried my duckie out onto the bridge, lowered it to the water with a climbing rope, and rappelled down to it.
One of the ranchers who'd turned me down several times pulled up in his truck to watch, but didn't get out or harass me. When I was in my boat, he walked onto the bridge and waved, with grudging admiration. Then he said, grinning, "Okay, Slick! But if you cut any of my fences, I'll shoot your ass!"
I pulled my rope, coiled it, cracked a beer, and floated downstream, at peace with the world.