He’d planned this trip for weeks—a run out to Bishop & Clerks, the notorious shallow reefs southeast of Hyannis Port, to chase striped bass on the dropping tide. But the fog had rolled in overnight, thicker than clam chowder. Visibility was maybe a hundred yards.
“Autopilot to waypoint ‘Bass Rock,’” he told the paired system. The helm turned gently. Restless eased forward at eight knots, her engine a low murmur. navionics boating
“Okay, girl,” Finn muttered, tapping the screen. “Show me the way.” He’d planned this trip for weeks—a run out
Finn tapped the screen. “Mark new hazard.” A red pin dropped on the crowd-sourced layer. ‘ Unexposed ledge, 1.5 ft below surface at low tide .’ Someone else, maybe next week, wouldn’t have to learn the hard way. “Autopilot to waypoint ‘Bass Rock,’” he told the
Finn cut the wheel to port. Hard. The engine roared as he throttled down, not up. Restless slid sideways, her wake slapping against nothing visible. The depth held at 9.8 feet. Then 12. Then 15.
But Navionics didn’t just show him where he was. It showed him where the water wasn’t . The SonarChart™ live mapping, built from thousands of sonar logs and refined by his own previous trips, revealed a subtle depression—a deeper gut—snaking through the reef. Bass loved those ambush points.