It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Foliage pierced the rays of the rising sun, in the tent next to his wife slept peacefully, and in my head yesterday dobrazhivalo Chilean chardonnay. Why wake up – unclear. Another would be to sleep and sleep. His head slipped the idea to go on a fishing trip, but somehow not very much. Deciding to trust women’s intuition, with the secret hope of denial, I turned to his wife.
— Ol, I can go on a fishing trip to go?
— No, sleep better…
Great, I thought, as required. And just when I was going to fly back as the wife of a dream states:
— While convergence, pike-perch catch me, I want to soup.
Well, for that we fought for it and ran, I thought, and began to get out of the tent. Washed, I had breakfast, got into the boat and rolled, eroding head of drunken couples. Yet I damn like sometimes that’s so easy to roll on the mirrored surface of the water, leaving a trail of foam behind the stern.
I rolled, anchor, spinning in the hands and beaten three o’clock just caught a pike-perch, slowly moving downstream. Well, the wife of one kind requested on the ear, then the mandate I have done. A walleye here for a long time is not present. For the sixth day of our vacation went, three times I was caught here, and each time had to just grind walleye catching on not more than 5-6 tails until noon.
Finally I went down to koryazhki where the first day I came and pecked on the boat very decent perch. The second wiring is a clear, strong bite, cut down and start vyvazhivat. Based on the severity of pumping, he pecked quite large pike for dvushnik exactly should be. I decide to extend the landing net, that was easier to take large prey. With one hand, I keep spinning, the second gun from the landing net. And there might be a classic situation – hitch swam. Sudden jerks, strained screeching clutch and I pose Manneken Pis. These are the times, I thought, you see, it pecked catfish, and finally returned to life. Yes, podsaki not help matters here, somewhere I was lying in a boat lanyard. Beach on the right and lower left me out of the water sticks bush with garbage, that’s something to that scoundrel and Rushed. Stopped big man, he began to pump, like give in, half a meter, a meter, a little bit more… Well, then this fellow really fresher and Poper to complete the program, I had to just keep spinning but play a stronger clutch. Seconds run with braid, it is necessary to do something. And what to do, I think through the chardonnay? Of course, weigh anchor!
I am trying to raise the anchor with one hand, and as luck would have it caught in snags, that’s because the infection. Clamped screeching spinning in his legs and two hands did tear off the wire-nezatseplyayka, raise anchor the boat and start exhausting slack. But not for long music played. Exhausted ten meters and reached the bush, I see that the network goes vertically into the water. Now that’s much worse. On the motor starts spinning in hopes to withdraw from the branches. A few minutes later, in desperation, I start just stupid to pull straight up, and after a few unpleasant dzinkov during which, apparently, were torn twigs, the fence is released and indicates the direction in which my friend ran away. And he ran away in the middle of the Don, by the order of 70 m platting. Quickly catch a fugitive, using braid like Ariadne’s thread, and proceed to the second part of the play called «Manneken Pis». I am trying to force the landing of, amenable, pop bubbles, and then appears, and the main actor of our performance. However, his appearance was fleeting – rallied and slapping its tail on the water, he again rushed to the bottom. That is because what a scoundrel! My personal record for a modest soma — 16 kg, according to the seen mahalke, this was certainly not less.
Then followed one after the other scenes of skating with the flow against the tide, left, right, and finally, he rushed to the shore. And at the shore there, though small, but koryazhki in which our mustachioed friend can get confused. How much time I ride hard to say, but ten minutes must have passed. Lure I — porolonka usual, of course, without a leash, but time is still not frayed, then successfully hapnul not swallow. I ride at least ten minutes and then he was a little tired. And most importantly, Comrade rushing to the shore. Well, here are some thoughts splashed in my troubled mind, and I decided to try again decisively raise comrade from the bottom and look at his whiskered snout. At first all went well, just a few seconds and then… In the life of every fisherman is this sentimental moment here it is happiness, now at hand, it remains only podsachit and podbagrit, and then the ugly jin… It happened and I – there was a ring, the load on the spinning sharply weakened… but not until the end.
At the end of the cord it was obviously something else tyazhelenkoe. Now understand the depth of their breakup, madly frustrated (because it was the first decent-sized catfish, klyunuvshy on my jig), exhausted, I stupidly twisted coil exhausting braid. And then surfaced catfish! Well, more accurately, a dozen years later he would become a catfish, and while it was somenochek (1.9 kg in weight). In his mouth was sticking my porolonka, and he had some already dismal, to say the sad and crumpled. Not believing his eyes misty, cursing Chileans, I stood in the middle of the boat, and Don stared at Somenkov, and he stared blankly with his little eyes in the sky, as if to indicate that he was here, in fact, innocent. What about friction and how the Manneken Pis, as well as, in the end, I’ve seen mahalka ?! There was my answer. And I stood in the boat so all dressed in white and hot from the sun was hot.
Having a couple of minutes from the wedge, I took a lanyard and fifth times the same podbagril prikukanil and their prey. And here is a closer and closer look, I realized what was happening. All body Somenkov until the middle of the head was covered with scratches and peeled skin to the meat. Initially, it was he I pecked near snags, and when I hesitated a landing net, he ate catfish-killer-cannibal, with which I, in fact, fought for booty and left in the battle won. Or did not come out ?!
In general, and not understanding the way into his mixed feelings, a little departure from the fever in his hands, I was already going to the camp, to mourn their grief. But finally I decided to become again on the same point. BUT WHAT IF?!
Nothing on hoping bathing among driftwood same greasy catfish porolonku with exposing the double, I recalled moments of recent fighting. And then bite, sweeps, and kind sudachishko went on to Kukan brethren. The next hour was fantastic from the point of view of an ordinary fishing, but, of course, did not go to any comparison with the previously experienced. I threw porolonku, and after one or two, and sometimes in the next posting was a bite, often very good in the hand, sweeps, vyvazhivanie, podsachivanie and prikukanivanie next walleye. When pecking ceased, I just lifted anchor, floated ten meters down the river and went to catch walleye. And then I ran out of the fastener, and frankly it was time to go to the camp, though there was still a decent neobkidannoy area. I decided to leave nevylovlennyh perch tomorrow. And today I’ve had enough 12 perch, one Somenkov and adrenaline from that vile whiskered snout.
Vitaly Ashmarin19 August 2014 at 16:33