At low tide, the harbour exposes its untidy side: ropes, old bolts and marks where generations of boats have rubbed the wall. I was checking a seam beneath the skiff when I noticed a narrow pool behind a fallen timber.
A bass waited there, almost motionless. Only the tip of its tail moved. I fetched a light rod from the workshop and replaced the usual spoon with a narrow brass flutter that could sink through the gap without touching either side.
The water behind the wall
The first drop landed on a leaf. The second disappeared into the pool. Before it reached the bottom, the line moved beneath the timber and tightened. I had just enough room to lift the rod without striking the hull above my head.
The fish came out slowly, then rushed into the wider channel as though surprised by its own decision. I followed along the slipway and released it in deeper water. The seam on the skiff still needed work. For once, I was pleased the inspection had taken longer than expected.
Look below the familiar line before deciding you know a place.
