The first problem was the lantern. Every time I moved it, my shadow fell across the shallows like an enormous bird. I put it behind a crate and sat so still that a gecko inspected my boot. Below the jetty, a broad green shape drifted between the posts.
My new lure had a little brass bell inside it. On the first cast, it rattled like a dropped toolbox. The shape vanished. I almost packed up, then noticed that the bell stayed quiet if I brought the lure back slowly enough.
A light beyond the jetty
On cast number four, the line stopped. It did not twitch or shake; it simply became part of the lake. Then the bass turned, and the rod pulled my elbow over the rail. I walked along the planks, keeping the line clear of the posts, until a huge striped back rose beside the ladder.
The hook slipped before I could lift the net. For a moment I saw one gold eye, perfectly unbothered. I sat down laughing. In my notebook I wrote: the bell is useful, provided nobody hears it.
Slow down before changing the whole plan.
