A six-bass stringer from a day on Leonero

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"Now you're speaking," he says. I ask why the fish here prefer big lures and whether that is the case all over Cuba. "It's not," he replies. "Some places you need small lures. And I don't even know the reason they prefer the big lures on this lake. They just do."

The morning is calm; a light wind ripples the water. Using Samuel's baitcasting reel and a 6-foot rod, I cast and retrieve. The lure is wiggling like some hyper-active dachshund that fell off the dock when a bass engulfs it. It disappears in a sudden sinkhole of water and I set the hook, the fish diving, pulling left, heading for the pads. I turn it and bring it in. It's the gamest 2-pounder I've ever tangled with-"fat, healthy, and thoroughly ticked off at having a hook in its mouth. Samuel is casting a large Zara Spook on a big spinning rod, and soon both of us are catching fish every second or third cast, a number of which run 3 pounds.

It's crazy-good video-game fishing, the flat-out most sustained largemouth action I've ever had. After about 10 minutes of this, Samuel stows his rod. "No good here," he says. I ignore him, cast again, and ask if he'd mind explaining just what the Sam Hill he's talking about. "Place like this, you can wear your arm out. But you can't win a tournament."

What, I ask, would it take to win?

"Here? You need an average of 5 pounds each fish to be competitive. To win, it usually takes an average of 6 pounds, maybe a little more." I look at him. He's smiling but he's not kidding.

We need to invade this country.