Fishing At The Gray Horse, Night Drift On An Ice Floe - What Excitement Leads To

Fishing tales

As soon as loud spring drops begin to ring, I and my constant fishing companion Alexander Rykov, once again going fishing on the last ice, swear that this is definitely our last winter trip. So we promised our relatives this time too.

We fished near Cape Seraya Horse, on the southern shore of the Gulf of Finland, three kilometers from the coast. It was not good fishing: it was mostly small perch, and sometimes roach and undergrowth of the same caliber came across. In search of the best places, some of the fishermen went further from the coast. The bite was much better there. This was reported to the fisherman, who was sitting not far from us, by his friend on his mobile phone.

Some anglers began to pull themselves up there. Rykov and I also wanted to follow their example, but the strong wind that arose stopped us. The ice around began to crackle, and in some places and broke. Seeing this, most of the anglers immediately moved towards the shore. My partner and I also approached the shore, but still decided to continue fishing.

We were attracted by the fact that, apparently, there was a flock of perches nearby, as the biting was clearly activated. True, only with me. Rykov still did not have it. We compared our baits. The jigs were the same color and size. The only difference was that on the hook of my jig there was an orange cambric, while Rykov had a blue one. As soon as he replaced it with orange, he began to bite too.

Busy with these manipulations and in the excitement of fishing, we did not notice how fog enveloped everything around. And soon it began to snow. Realizing that it was about to get dark, we quickly collected the tackle, fish and, without hesitation, moved to the shore. However, not even half a kilometer passed when they came across a wormwood. Trying to get around it, turned at right angles and went left. Fifteen minutes later we were again at the hole.

- It turns out that tore off … - Rykov summed up our walks sadly.

I said nothing. It was clear without any words. Since by that time the gray veil of fog had turned into darkness, we did not dare to risk it and, moving a hundred meters away from the nearest ice hole, decided to spend the night on the ice. Having settled down near a cluster of small hummocks, they called the rescuers by mobile phone. Those, swearing, promised in the morning, if possible, to send a helicopter.

It is impossible to describe the feelings that we experienced, tormented by the unknown, hearing the ominous crackle of moving and colliding ice floes and clearly feeling the fluctuations of the ice field below us. We waited for the morning with understandable anxiety. And when dawn broke, we looked around and realized that we were very lucky …

The ice floe we were on was torn away from the coastal ice yesterday. And now, although it was surrounded on three sides by water, the wind that changed direction at night, squeezed the fourth side into the coastal ice again. It was a salvation! Without waiting for the promised helicopter, we slowly trudged to the shore, carefully tapping the ice. Crawling, pushing backpacks and fishing boxes in front of us, we crossed the most dangerous place - the junction of our ice floe with the coastal ice. And only after that they breathed a sigh of relief: the danger was over.

And quite nearby, past us, chatting merrily, moving farther and farther away from the shore, were moving groups of anglers who had just arrived for fishing. For them, fishing on the last ice was either just beginning or continuing. For Rykov and me, it is definitely over! True, only until next year …