Calm morning. A few fisherman returning to harbor. The water is an inviting 60f, the air a bit warmer. The smooth water, (perhaps a full foot lower than the last time I was in) and calm, open sky invoke a sense of peace, space and freedom.
I walk out on a newly formed sandbar and look at the tracks of various early morning denizens. Geese, ducks, raccoons, skunks, possums, Great Blue Heron, small humans have all left their marks; a secret language of their doings.
The sandbar takes me out past small, sharp, stones along the shore that usually make me worry about my wetsuit. I slip into the mono fin on soft bottom, and prepare to swim to the little wreck that resides on the drop off just a 100 meters or so out.
Over the wreck I see the usually impetuous Smallmouth Bass
lurking obsequiously in the shadow of the hull. When I dive they come over, but they are restrained; circumspect.
I move off into deeper water. It feels nice down there, but there is not much going on. I can hear the deep thrum of large fish spooking in the distance.
I make my way over to where the drop off borders a weeded area near where a creek enters the bay and, after a good relaxed interval, I dive and wait.
Large, fast moving shapes edge in above for a look; their streamlined bodies appearing a rich bronze-gold from below. These are what the Bass were worried about.
Having satisfied my desire for long periods at reasonable depths, and with the cold beginning to creep in, I move into the shallow weed beds. A series of dives in only a few meters depth – emptying all the air from my lungs* in order to sink – watching the play of light and color as salmon restlessly navigate the weeds around me.
*This technique is dangerous! You can injure your lungs in relatively shallow water. Be sure you understand the physiology and are acclimatized before attempting it.