Surely, every fisher there is a cherished place for which he always prepares with a special thrill. And, of course, I am not an exception – the chub of the river, which is located at the maximum distance from settlements, was not always pleased with the abundance of fish caught, but nevertheless, it always attracted its untouched nature and endless mystery. You never know what can wait for you at this or that turn of the river? The first clearly pronounced roll, not only did not bring the answers “what the lobasty would prefer today,” but also threw more questions. No, the catch did happen, but there was a feeling that it was more and more like luck than a regularity, and it could not help but strain. After endlessly busting the krenks, the very first set shake worked: Lucky John Cleo, brought a couple of small chubs, one good bite, and escaped under the very shore of the perch. But all this did not bring the desired results. Maybe change the place?
At that moment, when a little more than an hour remained before the end of the trip, we nevertheless decided to move to the second scheduled roll, where the very first throw brings a striped robber. Good luck? I leave my current colleagues, going downstream as far as possible so as not to interfere with each other, and cover the maximum possible area for fishing. In the middle of the stream, a shallow water area was noticeable, as a result of which a sufficiently powerful “return pipe” was formed, where, under the opposite bank, in a very solid area between water lilies, the real “bacchanalia” was going on. Repeated bursts, and clouds of fry flying out of the water, spoke only about one thing: Chub is clearly present in numbers here. But what to choose? One of the most famous Kosadaka Roger Midi cranks in this form brought me the first bites in a new place, and the first two gatherings. There are a lot of fish, and because of the strong current, and the small hooks on the wobbler, it was quite difficult to realize the attack. But something had to be done – time was running out faster and faster, and we wanted to feel the treasured powerful bite more and more.
The next subsurface wobbler didn’t give any result at all, as if there was no predator here at all, and I decided to try the surface beetle. Several experiments with the wiring, and the perfect recipe was found: Salmo’s Lil Bug streamlining basically allowed him to reach the desired point in the empty space between the lily pads, where the main stream picking up the hanging cord gradually pulled the wobbler to the main stream – all I could do was not a lot of tugging with the tip of the rod, and the first slip did not take long. And then more and more! In 30 minutes and a little bit, I managed to catch more than five small handsome men, and get a huge number of poklevok – and such fishing, albeit not qualitatively, but very quantitatively can not but rejoice! But … It's time to get ready … In the end, I decided to check a small shake, honestly no longer believed in anything, and absolutely did not hope for a miracle, but on the second “last throw”, there was a powerful blow, the fry scattered in different parts of the attack. hand, and I understand that on the bezborodom hook it is "he"! But, all I have time to do is to relax the clutch. At that moment, when it turned out to bring the trophy chub to the main stream of the river, something happened that I could expect the least – a cliff …
In a very twofold feelings, we went home. On the one hand, at the very last moment, each of us was able to catch, but the missed chub did not give me rest. I could assume anything, but the same banal gathering with a beardless hook, but a precipice? Although what it matters – even if it was missed, there was still a chance. And this can only mean one thing: Revenge is sure to take place!
Thank you for your attention! No tail, you, no scales!