Fishing Strogino is a Moscow river with the Bayou and the Gulf

The next stop “Shchukinskaya”, – said the mechanical voice. And after five minutes my friend left the subway, standing at the bus stop and waiting for our friends to get together to go fishing. The two of us to catch today is Boris Ivanovich.

Not like quietly removing the fish from under the ice. I like it when the rod flexes into an arc, heard a powerful burst, the fish excretes the candle, and the neighbor rushes to the net to your rescue. But Strogino is the place where I get the charge of good mood even just staying there and chatting with the fishermen. Before the open water season is not so far away. And yet the camera in a backpack and off you go…

Strogino visit for more than a decade. A lot or a little? To love this place, well enough, and to study all the features of the reservoir and conditions of fishing are ridiculously small. Because fishing Strogino is a Moscow-river with Bayou and Gulf, and the portion of the channel name of Moscow, and two large sand pit

A bus stops. Here and Strogino, my “fishing area”.

Two of the friends leave in the direction of Troitse-Lykovo to try their luck on the old channel of the Moscow river. And Boris Ivanovich, his friend Georgy and I the edge of the Park, past the sticking of caked snow motorized vessels down to the Big career. On the road to agree on the tactics for further action. Two of my companions in search of fish will move across the pond, “punching” familiar point. And I’m walking around and “absorbing vitamins”, chat with the fishermen. Then “tap” on the cell phone is relatively cool. Suspicion should not be as gear in front of me there. Finally passed the birch grove and go to career.

Snow lubricates the term. The teeth of the skyscrapers, taking in the ring pond, hazy snowfall. In the light background left the noise of the big city.

The memory brings forth a nostalgic picture of the past years, when there were heaps of these houses, visible from everywhere. Begin to understand how much and forever othvachennyh man from nature and how little of it he kept for himself.

Meanwhile, my companions a few dozen meters from the shore of the square-cluster method drilled in the ice hole. Measure depth. Lastly find an underwater plateau where you will catch. Clear the holes of snow, overfeed bloodworms. Then lower the jig. Everything is now 7.30 am.

The time has gone. “Georgy, if not a secret where to take this fight moth?”, – I ask. “Wash yourself,” he replies seriously, but does not stand up and his face stretched in a cheerful smile. “Well, I, 76 short years have passed over. Vaughn, Boris Ivanovich buy”. An hour passes. To take a hint. And checked the place out today. And new wells are silent. And change attachments, and various types of transactions do not change anything. The neighbors are deaf. You see, the men were poskuchnee. Say, “Well, I’ll walk. I’ll see what’s what.” And head to the tent about two hundred yards from us.

Counted around thirty. Go easy, because the snow sometimes blew. And the surface is sealed, making the pond a hovercraft with the rescuers that something is continuously saved. We approach the nearest tent, “knock, knock, anybody home?”

To the sounds of voices from the tents chosen by its owner. “Hello! How pecks?”, – ask him a burning question. “Three days ago bream were well taken. One twelve pieces here at the pit, took. Was and dushnik. Yesterday and today – silence. Under us ten meters. Early in the sounder saw what the pack is. Now, probably somewhere over the pond are worn. Spring felt “clean feathers”, from all sorts of slime and leeches free. And the bass to nine o’clock will not take – that’s right.” Say “Thank you” and rush to our – soon to inform valuable information. But “soldiers” have already assembled and preparing to commit a one-mile March there, where the contact of the river water and still water of the Bay. (Cell reported that the perch is biting well.)

The path is wrapped to the toe from the ducts between the quarry and the river. And get acquainted with the young fisherman who pulled in here father and uncle to breathe healthy air. Father, as I am, a lover of the summer spinning and open water catches here ASP. And now, enjoying the silence and snow-covered expanses, hooking perch. Get your “vitamins” and turning to his uncle, who perch a little more. And there is risk to barevitamins because I hear their thoughts spoken aloud by another person. “Where is there to go “seven miles jelly slurp” when there is so much abundance?”

Quickly back to his. In order not to distract the lifeguards, carefully looked at the ice in front of him. This isn’t seventy centimeters as a career, and only thirty.

Both “fighter” in the “orders” and feel satisfied. Got your vitamins. “Show bass something they have not seen?” I say. “Here they are”, – cutting, happily said Boris, removing from the hole “sailor”, which even strips hasn’t performed yet. And then releases it into the hole. Around people from time to time recharged with vitamins, removing from perch hole the size of a little finger. Life is good! But serious fish had not yet arrived. Fishing is possible and finish. To the house to get a short time.

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