Echo Islet was not on my old map. It was on the horizon, which seemed a convincing enough invitation. I arrived with an orange cork popper and the confidence of a man who had remembered his sandwiches.
The lure made a hollow plop each time it touched the water. Across the inlet, the sound came back twice. Plop, plop. I spent several minutes conducting this excellent orchestra before a wake appeared behind the cork.
An answer across the water
The bass hit at the exact moment I looked away to check the echo. Water burst over the bow. My sandwiches slid into the bilge. The fish ran round a rock, then changed its mind and headed directly toward the boat. I reeled as quickly as I could while laughing at the terrible timing.
It shook free beside the oar, leaving the orange cork bouncing on the surface. I stayed for lunch anyway. The island gave back every sound I made except the splash of the sandwich hitting the water. Some things are best left unanswered.
Look at the water, even when the scenery is showing off.
