Bezmotylka on the Karpovskoye reservoir

Bezmotylka on the Karpovskoye reservoirThe weather over the past week brought a lot of surprises, however, ahead of the predicted GisMeteo. Volgograd filled up with snow, then there was a sharp warming, after which came no less sharp cooling. All this led to the fact that the access roads to Volgograd were blocked. Fishermen’s reports clearly indicated that they haven’t been fishing recently at the Karpovskoye Reservoir, but you can drive up without problems, although not everywhere. They usually approach the Karpovskoye reservoir at the “sixth kilometer” – there is the base of the ROOiR, but the road there has swept. There is also Ilyevka or Pyatimorsky, but from there it is far to go to cool places. There remains the “Pigsty” (silos are noticeable there), where the asphalt is almost up to the water. This “pigsty” is located approximately in the middle of an elongated reservoir, so you can stomp anywhere from there.

So we went there. German Petrovich – on a “voucher” (such a lure is diamond-shaped) behind perches, Oleg and Prokopych – on a mormyshka with a bloodworm and I – on a rewinder. The three of us like Seruga more. So I actually brought my mother 8 kg of small perch two days ago, so there is no way for me to go home with perches. We move out onto the ice – towards the fishermen who have been fishing all night. All four swear that they have not seen a single bite! How so ?! We do not believe, we begin to catch closer to the "pig" shore. The perches with the little finger began to come across. The raven fed a couple. I noticed that a hundred meters away they started to pull out the fish. I come there, I'm struggling, not caught either by me or by those who are nearby. Catch extreme holes. I’m moving even closer to the lucky holes, I'm struggling about five meters away – I’m not getting closer for ethical reasons. But I hear dissatisfied exclamations. Like, are you chasing a perch here? Here, dear man, they catch solid fish! Drilled and sit …

Okay. He told them that the distance from hole to hole is equal to depth, that this is normal by all fishing rules. Well … right there I pull out the roach on a mormyshka with a bead. The grumbling grumble subsided. They also bite. I try different postings, change the pace – a nod sails in the wind, I really can’t see the bite. I decided to change the fishing rod and catch the devil. Also with a yellow bead, medium size. But it doesn’t peck at me or the grumble-moths. I decided to pause for tea. And my thermos is old – so that the valve closes, you need to knock on it. Well, I knock without a second thought … I hear, neighing started:
– What is he doing?
– Beats a tambourine!
“Why not dance?”
– Places are few … only five meters after all!
– And look, beat rhythmically as it turns out!
– Maybe give him a little mormyshka?

Humor, as you know, always relieves tension. I burst out laughing at their jokes. However, it does not bite. The most impatient ones pulled away in search of happiness. I decided to move a little further. At least see how the bottom topography changes. After all, I’m still sitting at the level of the extreme holes. I walk about twenty meters, look, it seems like the grid is standing. I go even further, I am drilling and catching in one and the other holes along the roach with the palm of my hand – that’s all. I look back – evil comedians are watching me closely. I wonder if they will go to fool me or not? My assumption is growing that the fish under me is just acting up. It is necessary to empirically find the hole where it bites more often, and there it abuts, changing the wiring.

He drew everything around in a checkerboard pattern – found it. Periodically I catch two or three pieces. It will hang on a simple ascent, then I will detect it with a control hook. I feel that I just don’t see careful bites in the wind. On the slow rhythmic swaying, somewhere at eye level already, the scavenger sat not bad. Well, I think the bream came up! Right now I'll be tearing him in front of the evil "penguins"! But, see, the bream was vagrant. Again sluggish bites that are hard to see in the wind. Oleg comes and asks if I hiccup by chance.
– The people there see what you are catching, but they are afraid to approach you. They say that you are a shaman, and you have a tambourine … Turn them into real penguins … How will they finish vodka with their beaks?

I'm really happy! They ceased to peck at all, but I just broke up! At the peak of active search! He overcame a happy hole – but there is no active fish. An hour before the end of fishing, he decided to leave a successful hole, where he caught nine carpentry and scavenger, and try his luck on lured holes, over which he hit a tambourine in the morning. The moths just left there for two hours.

In the first hole a confident draw. I hook, it’s stupid, solid. A couple of times he pitted a thin line between his fingers … I just thought: “If only I hadn’t come down ?!” Immediately lower it again. A couple of times I do a slow climb with smooth swaying – exactly the same bite. I drag it again, I’ll baiting a fishing line … Damn, it got caught somewhere! I already gave slack – I thought that the bream would twitch and free the little devil, and I tried to reach the hook with a hook – it doesn’t work. I took a cut-off and I can’t do anything with a cut-off. What really got hooked there, I did not understand. Tore off.

I tied another little devil, but without a bead, only with Cambriks. Comrades are already honking, it's time to go … I smoked, tried to see at least one more bite, but the bream did not peck. And German Petrovich caught 200-250 grams from the heels of perch on his “voucher”. Oleg really didn’t catch anything. Toward the end of the night, Prokopych tortured a couple of carpenters from his palm, but on bloodworms. It is a pity that he left in the midst of lured holes, but the road really began to sweep, and hoar frost threatened with severe icing. We arrived without any problems. It can be seen that my dances with a tambourine at the top were appreciated.

author Aleksey KOLOIMETS

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Amanda K. Benson

Author: Amanda K. Benson

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