The height of spring… this year, all classically: the morning ice until glass fixed lutati, almost like winter, but by noon the sun heated to white, blinding and burning like a padded suit. But still Murphy’s Law worked this time.
Everything was smooth weather with plus temperatures that afternoon, that night. There are no sharp pressure changes and any changes, which is always good for a biting fish. But when going fishing… Looked at the weather forecast. On the two days that we were finally supposed to break a fishing trip, fell a gray, snow weather and minus, day and night. But it is not always necessary to believe the predictions. And already tuned fishing.
And so it was. The forecasts have not been achieved in full. Minus was explicit, in fifteen degrees in the morning, and on the second day after the overnight stay on the island for twenty and tipped the scales in the morning. But the sun burned for two days in clean as a whistle the sky. But first things first.
In Senjushkina
Went to the car the eldest son. Full set of my sons was in this time with me. The senior, Dima, medium, Eugene and Junior… As usual in Russian fairy tales Ivan. And went merrily and came, met with an old village friend Leonid and became even more fun. Frost, clear morning, well… Go really far away to the island, but when they came out on the ice, it became clear — the asphalt asphalt. Especially in the morning. Go easy, especially on a plastic cargo sled.
According to the plan we overnight in the dugout, in the worst case — in the forest on the island. To do this on the sleigh shakes the chainsaw. Worst case but very possible, as long not been in these places, and dugouts can be non-residential. But on the way we caught up with dashing local biker. It was a bit strange to see ice reservoir cyclist. However, time is no less dashing motorcyclists, raising the loop around the Islands on the last ice, and then leaping in different directions leaving the ice with an iron horse — What is there to not only see…
While Dating and treats Vladimir (the so-called local velobayker) tell us the coordinates of the new dugouts on the island where you can spend the night. He confirmed our fears about old earth, they say, all Sapeli and collapsed. Yes, time and damp deciduous forests impact on our older homes. There is nothing eternal.
Vladimir said that the fish had stopped in those days at the difference of weather from warm to thaw the still-frosty. Apparently, the pressure is very high. We are used to it. And most importantly, to sit in the evening at the campfire, look up at star sky clear with a full moon blazing, to spend the night in the hut has a wood stove, crispy dry polenzani and just pinned birch dies. To take out of fatigue a glass of tea…
Night only barely managed to sit for an hour in the Bayou with fishing rods. Little things polivala, but sluggish. Could not even put tackles on the night. But I already know this. How many time was convinced that here, at the Cheboksary reservoir, it is necessary to come for three days, not less. Only then you can have time to prepare the house, to catch the bait fish, to put imitation fish.
Morning came frosty. With the first rays of the sun I was on the ice. The sons were still asleep. Roach nodded sluggishly, but was caught in the Bayou good trophies, some to a pound. Soon woke up and “the kids”, the youngest is already a head above me. Together and caught eight pounds of spring sarogi, among which and skimmers were caught. It was a great spring ice in Senjushkina!
Old friend — small river
Latest reports from the field of fishing has not been encouraging. A friend of mine calls the ice, being on Volga, Corotna, they say, in the morning only okoska caught and silence… I told him on the phone “And the crow? There is always at this time major was humping dorogu”. Namesake says that now escapes there… And to crow’s island, from where he is now, about three kilometers. Escapes… a Fellow fisherman…
In the evening on my question about the success of the crow island wrote in a chat on my site, “And reached him, and for him, 14 miles reeled. Result 1 perch at 6 a.m. from the first hole to the second wiring…. All of the bite not seen, not counting the ruff. In General, the exercise worked: I went and drilled holes”. Then later added, the namesake, a few bitter lines in the mini-chat: “I can not Wait for open water, with ice is finished for sure. Removed and mothballed drill, washed the drawer, put in order all the gear… Waiting for April, and on the Kokshaga. Go, as like last year season to open!?”.
Of course, we’ll go, but the ice is still not over. But there is also another friend has pointed out, Vladimir. He lives in Moscow, at the age of bloated a little bit. Going long on the ice finally broke. And in the letter he writes that gathered in century koi fishing on mozhayku, which wrote that only the lazy did not catch there bleak. But did not catch any fish… Like, an Internet cesspool. Believe a word of it, ‘ lamented the old man.
Here such depressing reports “from the field”. And also would put a drill in the closet, but I have already bought motylja and oparysha, tuned. Not to cut back… And, as always, someone catches, and someone’s watching… Over on our local website slides of barsikow lie on areas of the photo. Caught somewhere in Vetluga. Maybe I’ll get lucky? Well, so far not going, day fishing. But where?..
And then we remembered our river Kokshaga, above the city, running among the meadows and copses. In the summer it’s crowded and big fish, but the ice often capricious river. But it is necessary to check. Especially close to her.
Morning ice. Underfoot crunches ice, protracted speaking water. Already visible gullies in the channel, where the flow. Darken and even turn black and fast open water. Dangerous… But I stick to the shore.
Drilling a couple of holes in the Gulf, where the water, as was seen in the summer, going around lowered a white tungsten jig with a crank. Next is the jig with maggots. Throw cereal. Bites no. Half an hour passes, and the sadness tells the same bitter line in the shower, like, all, to more water on the ice will not work. But nothing to do, lifting the jig almost to the ice, you see a sharp bite. From the hole it bleak!.. Yeah, there you are!.. And you and in the ditch at the Yoshkar-Ola were looking for, and in Moscow, you’re here freely swim under the ice. Drop into the hole a little dry of semolina, which was in his jacket pocket since the last time also catching the bleak, but almost in the city. Only then listlessly pecked bleak. Here bleak peck one after another. And it was clear that spring fishing with ice is not over yet. If only they didn’t go, ice…
