As we talk, we approach Milyushino, and only then does the father notice: but there’s no snow! Indeed, only here and there you will see a white spot in the field. And the road is generally dry. Like this! It turns out that you need to run north from winter! We have noticed the climate change in our area for a long time. Only 40 km, and you find yourself now from late spring to early, now from rain to snow. From winter to autumn … And nevertheless, closer to Ukhra, snow began to appear on the roadsides, and on the banks of the river there are white bald patches in withered grass … -3 on the thermometer. It’s even warmer here. Is the sea near? The boat had already been lowered by two o’clock … And the water comes and comes! The hydroelectric station has been in operation for the third week. Half a meter of water has arrived, and the north-west wind is heavy. There are no bite prospects. For the second year, the scenario of water intake in the reservoir in late autumn is repeated. The fish that slide down into the flooded channels at the end of August, with the rise of water, begins to scatter over the irrigations. The coastal workers are constantly catching more boatmen! One thing pleases: the fish will be more whole – try and take it in such a water area!
The sun breaks through the clouds. The breeze is across the channel … Checking the holes and bends of the channel – quietly. I change the lures one after the other, but more often on a rattlin leash: he takes fish well in cold water. But not even a poke, not a touch on the fish. Two weeks ago, the linen did not allow the wiring to be done normally, but now everything has died out! Near the island, the water is brown – the wind from the sea got it upset. On one of the pits I hook a net – thirty. Who are they betting on? Two pike to the keel and a couple of perch 250 grams each. So, there is a predator at a depth! Most likely, he is in the winter diet, feeds strictly on exits, but in order to catch such a moment, you need to stand and hammer a hole all day. Something, but time is sorely lacking. A gust of wind flies, the boat rips off the anchor, the first snowflakes immediately fly, and soon a snow veil covers the coast. Enough for today! And so on the water we are alone, crazy! All this is suspicious.
Sunday morning. On the thermometer -4. Snowball increased slightly overnight, but so far it has not even covered the grass. We spill the wattle fence, the rollers of the line guide with silicone. A bottle of lubricant in a bag – on the water you will need to repeat the procedure. The wind dropped noticeably and changed to the northeast. In some places along the coast, thin edges of ice appeared during the night. Handsomely. We load into the boat. The neighbors in the village are arranging mugs on a nearby pit. Then we’ll take an interest. We get up on one of the pits. While the boat is unfolding, I think what to put after yesterday’s flight! Box, second, third … I put 6-inch silicone for 21 g. Va-bank. Throw, fall, three turns, pause – knock on the bottom. “Stop! It’s silt here! ” – flashes through my head. Sweep! THERE IS! The fish turned around on the other end! The relaxation of the first cast and uncertainty about the presence of fish after yesterday’s flight – and almost missed a bite.
My father just abandoned, but exhausted, took the net. One and a half, but nice! Caught in an extra tee. No resistance – driftwood! Instead of joy, I have vigilance: all this is suspicious: a bite from the first point, from the first posting, the first step … We do it by casting. “THERE IS!” – now the father. Spinning works out the fish, which, however, quickly calms down. And just as calmly enters the landing net. My twin. It has a lure 4.5 inches long and almost black – just a little gray mother-of-pearl near the head. Three casts – two fish. Got to the exit? All this is suspicious … Jiga approaches the boat, and light jabs of fish are felt – some linen has come out on the riverbed. And yesterday she was not! Is that the explanation for the presence of pike?
The tenth cast, the twentieth … We look at each other, shrug our shoulders. Sometimes the linen strikes along the wattle fence, sometimes it turns over and puffs up. If only I could get the scales, see what kind. We rearrange and change the baits, again return to those on which there were bites. And 100 meters upstream, the same linen knocks on the braid. The wind blows in gusts. Rings freeze over wiring. During the pause, the wattle fence freezes to the roller and rings, and it has to be torn off. Line kill. There is a poke on the next wiring. We try to “finish off” by changing the baits, but there is no result. Five times they rearranged so that the place of catching the first fish was thrown at different angles – no use. The roller freezes over so that you can’t pick off the fence from it right away – silicone does not help. You have to constantly purge. Interestingly, the styling of my Kaldia Kix 3500 has also changed. If earlier it did not reach the rear edge of the spool about 3 mm, now it does not report the same 3 mm to the front one. Probably, the Japanese engineers did it for fishing in the cold, but I thought it was a joint.
It’s time to drink some tea, since the village is nearby … The neighbors caught: they took 4 fish for mugs and one more idle coup! We decide to try our luck again … And again the place of morning bites. Beli is gone. As well as the pike. Probably, they lie at the bottom without moving, apathetically watching the ups and downs of our baits. The most ridiculous options for baits are used: maybe the pike will be surprised and try it? Father is cutting something! The hook … We rake it up – it moves, but it can’t be raised on the wattle fence. We drop the anchor, the detachment … Not the first time, but something is lifting heavily. Maybe a guy wire? Snag! She lay to herself, washed out with silt, did not bother anyone. But there must have been a fish near her! Koryazhina is not shallow – rogulin is three meters long. In zebra mussel and silt. What to do with it? Overboard. True, then how many times will we catch on to it. But I’m a point in the navigator, and I’ll find it at first glance. There will be a pike near her, I have such confidence!
While my father unravels the braid, I cast. Without hope, they made noise from the heart. About 50 meters in the neighborhood everyone was scandalized, go!
– There is! – I shudder and turn around. Father’s spinning bends to water! Wow! I was wrong about the noise. I scoop out the fence, grab the landing net. The first jerks have passed, the fish calmly goes to the boat. Gathering? The tip of the spinning rod straightens, the father speeds up the reeling. Just going to the boat! Can not see. Already at the boat, but everything is not visible. And then she started! Squeak clutch, stick in an arc! It presses under the boat! Doesn’t give any chance to withdraw … – “Check the clutch!” Slightly weakens … Another jerk … Well, it turns out. Surrendered! In the landing net … A fish under three rubles, but caught one of the double’s hooks at the withers! This is the reason for such violent resistance.
– Did you take it far? Where did you throw it? – all important questions, because she was not alone there!
– Nowhere! Next to the boat.
– Like this?!
It turns out that, having unraveled the fence, which was caught by the wind in the boat for all kinds of protruding parts, the father simply threw the jig overboard. While removing the loop from the motor, the jig fell to the bottom. Well, then I began to choose a braid for casting, after a couple of turns with the reel I felt some kind of stirring and hooked … So. We approached with the oars, moved the snag first with the wattle fence, spinning in place, then threw the anchor, knocked heartily with the pick on the snag, pulled the snag out of the silt. And then they threw her to the bottom again. And what about the pike? Just swam a few meters away from her anchorage and stood up? Doesn’t fit in my head! Such a random, but very memorable fish! They also rearranged, but somehow it is not interesting. We went to the pit, where in the morning the neighbors drove circles. Empty. And it’s already dusk. It’s time to go home.
On the way back, light snow started several times. There is quite a bit of snow on the sides of the Volkovsky stream. But near the city itself it somehow immediately brightened, turned white: the fields are covered with snow, along the sides it is white-white, on the road there is snow porridge. And the house was covered with a blizzard again! And so it turns out: we ran away from winter to the north for a couple of days!