Been there, done that...at the southern end of the Great Sacandaga Lake, in November, midweek, drysuit on, wind honking, rain/sleet fying sideways, five- or six-foot swells, alone, a mile or so out when my carbon mast snapped. There wasn't a soul in sight.
If you ever have that happen to you it sounds like a gunshot.
If you know that area, you know that it's mostly summer cottages in the area. Thank God a guy was working on one of them that aftenoon and noticed my predicament. He fortunately had his jet-skis stored at the cottage and hadn't yet winterized them and came out to get me. In 15 min. of paddling I'd barely gotten anywhere. I was just about to jettison what remained of my rig when I saw him coming out.