Salmon gorge themselves on food washed away from the banks, and it becomes almost impossible to seduce them with artificial baits, including those tested for years. In my opinion, only small tributaries can help a fisherman in such a situation. The federal highway Moscow – Vladivostok crosses almost all the rivers flowing into the Ingoda from the left bank. Cook, Domna, Zhipkoshi, Sestrenitsa and Tanga, Ernichnaya and Rushmaley – most fishermen simply do not notice all these small tributaries. The width of these streams does not exceed three to five meters, and in some places they can simply be stepped over. But even on small tributaries, there are pits up to two meters deep, rifts and reaches, rifts and oxbows. In principle, everything is the same as on the big river, only in miniature. In some places, bushes close up over the water, forming long dark tunnels. Here you have to stand in the channel bent over and drive straight from the feet using only a fraction of the length of the telescopic rod. Fishing, of course, is not very comfortable: the bushes overhead get in the way, and the mood of that and look will fall into a dead hold, and the water is icy even in summer.
Having weighed all the pros and cons of such fishing, I still decide to visit a tributary called Sestrenitsa. There are no night frosts yet, grasshoppers chirp in the fields, and it is unlikely that all the salmon have already rolled down to Ingoda. I liked the little sister at first sight. The river runs through flooded meadows, unlike large rivers, it is crystal clear, although full-flowing. The presence of the fish was felt, and most importantly, it was visible how the grayling picks up the midge from the surface of the water. There was a fish, and it fed. First I walked a hundred meters up the river. I walked along the coastal meadow, and under my feet the overflowing water was squelching. One place caught my attention. Here, squeezed by high banks, Sestrenitsa burst out in a powerful stream from under a small dilapidated bridge, and then, slowing down its course, spilled into a wide reach.
More precisely, even in a small lake. The current went only in its middle, and the water stood on the sides. The reach is 20 meters wide, about half a meter deep, and the distance from the bridge to the entrance to the next roll is thirty meters. The place, in my opinion, is ideal for daytime fishing. Confused only by the presence of a ford on the reach, along which the Sestrenitsa was crossed by the road that went into the meadows for mowing. The bridge was clearly unreliable, so the villagers dashed off a ford along the river. On the opposite bank, where haystacks were scattered all over the creek, a tractor rustled. “Now they will lay out hay in the trailer and will drive the“ Belarus ”right through the reach,” I thought. This was the only consideration that darkened the upcoming fishing trip.
There was no point in using large mormukha on such a reservoir. The river itself seemed to suggest: “Catch with small baits.” I took out a box with the smallest change I had. I chose a trick with tobacco dabbing and a bright fluorescent rim near a round copper head. The hook ended in a turquoise bend. The allowance – the distance from the overlap waterline to the blende – made half a meter. The jig itself weighs a little, and the knitting material – dabbing, thread, feather – adds buoyancy, so that almost a suspender is obtained. The bait floats in the water column, sometimes just touching the bottom. The first casting under the jet. The float reached the middle of the lake, wavered and disappeared under the water. Sweep! The tip of the rod bent, the friction clutch slightly blew off the forest, the grayling rushed into the stream. I took him out into stagnant water and pulled him ashore. It was a pitched fish: a dark body with a purple tint, crimson spots on the sides.
The second cast – and everything repeated. Dive float, undercut, drag. In one breath I pull out two dozen handsome men. Everything is clear: the fish have accumulated here and are fattening with might and main before entering the big river. I was happy until that very tractor with a hay trailer appeared. “Belarus” rolled across the reach, raising a wave and impenetrable turbidity. There was nothing to do: having rolled up the telescope, I went higher along the river. While the section of the river, stirred up by the tractor, calmed down, it was possible to look for another place.
I walked out onto a steep bend in the river, free of bushes. After the turn, the channel widened and the stream went into a deep, one and a half meters, hole. The site was short, only five meters. I extend four legs of the telescope: the most suitable length for fishing such an area. Casting. The whirlpool slowed down the float, not allowing to snuggle up to the shore. The red ball hides under the water where it should be, that is, at the exit from the pit. As in the previous place, the fish grabbed the bait on the first drive. Five more grayling fill my cage until I decide to return to the pool lake.
Everything settled down here. The suspension has settled, the turbidity has been carried away by the current – you can catch it again. Grayling took about half an hour, then the bite died out, I changed the bait, and the fish became active again. During fishing, it turned out that tobacco, carrot and gray blende worked best. They were united by the fact that I did not wind the pen with a spiral along the entire forend of the hook, but with a skirt under the very head of the jig. The overall result of fishing on Sestrenitsa completely satisfied me: a few dozen good grayling, not counting the gatherings and the trifles released.