The feeling of waiting for fishing in long-acquaintances, but those who have become distant, places on the Desna, all week did not give rest. Anxious and mysterious dreams swarmed in my head about how on Saturday night we would throw rods under the noise of the River, the crack of a fire, the singing of birds, we would meet Her Majesty the Desnyansky Night with the endless dome of Heaven. As at dawn we are inspired by the purple-crimson-misty Freshness of the solemnly rising Sun. How to walk with spinning on all the familiar whirlpools, pits, blockages in search of a predator. As under the roar of frogs we will see splashes of the Aspen on a water surface, and can even catch it.
... Familiar road, "traveled" a thousand times. Turning onions. The primer is rolled, it is pleasant to go, there are no "threats" to get stuck in the wet ground. Beauty! The mood soars even faster, an old dream is about to come true and we will go down to your favorite beach!
But suddenly the first obstacle arose: the road ended, or rather "drowned" in the Desna spill. Of course, it may not be so critical for an SUV, but still I didn't want to take any risks looking at night. Especially since we know another, no less interesting place where you can meditate wonderfully: a high cliff under a lonely tree, where in the cliff usually sickles breed their offspring. They often confuse anglers by hooking their steel rods on the fly and rattling their bells in vain.
... What we saw shocked me and kept me from numbness for a long time. After the Desna overflowed, there was nothing left of our Place under the Tree ... And the Trees - too ... And they couldn't even get there - all the ditches turned into rivers, and two-meter cliffs - on the usual shore ...đ˛
We met the first spring storm in the city. The sunset is at the entrance to the Dnieper ... They didn't have time to go anywhere else, and canceling fishing with an overnight stay was equated to betrayal!đ
It's cool to spend the night on the river when your house is a five-minute drive away. But at dawn they were convinced of the correctness of their decision: at 5 am the shore was tightly packed with cars, and those wishing to park only added.
Nothing special to say about fishing. What I dreamed of was impossible here. And the storm has made its adjustments to the fishing routine of the day and night. What only tricks were not resorted to: leashes were lengthened and shortened, hooks were reduced to the size of 'micro', and the maggot-maggot-foam was put on the hook in every possible way ... not giving rest to "false alarms" ringing bells on spinnings.
By noon, everyone was tired: the small thing that was constantly biting, the crowd of people on the shore, cars scurrying here and there and clouds of dust from their wheels. It's scary to talk about mountains of garbage. After the flood, the river carried "to the mountain" all that was left by "homo sapiens" for many, probably years, on all banks and the crisis upstream.âšī¸
Having "crushed" in unsanitary conditions a package of juice with cookies, we clean garbage. Fold the rods. We are leaving.
There is no positive from nature, which you always follow in the first place on any fishing schedule. For some reason, the Dnieper has never given what the Desna always gives within the city limits.
Maybe she really is ENCHANTED?đ
