A Smart Tip - Where To Fish In Late Autumn

2024 Author: Sebastian Paterson | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 13:47

Fishing tales

Circumstances so developed that I got to my favorite lake in Karelia only at the end of autumn. In winter, spring, summer, fishing on this reservoir was very catchy. And now it was necessary to check how the fish was caught here in the winter. When I got to my usual place - a cape that went far into the lake, I unwound the fishing rod and began to fish with a jig. Every angler knows how impatiently you look forward to the first bite.

I was also waiting for her. Alas, my patience was not rewarded: not a single bite in half an hour. I tried to catch it with bloodworms, then with caddis flies, then with an earthworm. And again not a single bite … I saw perches darting in a flock near the hook with a nozzle, but none of them even touched it. Frustrated, I decided that I had to take my fishing rods. And suddenly there was the rustling of pebbles to my left. I looked around and saw a squat old man in a tarpaulin cloak and a malachai hat, walking towards me.

Having greeted, he looked ironically at my fishing rods, an empty bag and said:

- It is immediately obvious that you are not from here, because you are trying to fish in the wrong place …

Of course, his remark touched me to heart: after all, I always returned from this lake with a catch. True, not at this time of year.

The old man continued:

- At the end of autumn, fish in stagnant lakes do not bite. Give her any bait, catch her with any tackle - it's useless.

- So you shouldn't try to catch? - I suggested.

- Why not? - my interlocutor was surprised. - Go to the river. Pick a spot with the current under the bushes or along a steep bank and fish. There is fish there, and sooner or later it will bite.

There are many such places near the village of Kapustino. Do you know this one?

- Sure.

- So blow there.

I obeyed the advice and an hour later reached the Sluda river. It was a narrow river, whimsically meandering between high banks. There was a strong current only in the middle; the water barely moved near the shore. I chose a place on a bend in a small bay. I put bloodworms on the hook and made the first cast. Five, ten, fifteen minutes, the float is motionless.

Meanwhile, it started snowing. Large snowflakes, whirling slowly, fell to the ground. Some of them immediately melted, but they fell and fell, and gradually everything around: withered grass, clay bank, tree branches covered with a white veil.

Contemplating all this, I was distracted for a while. And when I looked again at the place where the float was, I did not find it. Recovering himself, he quickly caught it, but the fish dashed, dragged the tackle into the driftwood, and the line broke. I quickly set up a second rod and immediately pulled out a pretty decent roach. Then again and again. After that, the bite was cut off.

But twenty minutes later it resumed. And the fishing continued … The fish either actively pecked, or stopped nibbling on command. And although, when I removed the fish from the hook, my fingers were numb from the cold, I endured and continued to fish. As a result, by the end of the fishing trip I had, as the fishermen say, more than twenty "tails".

The tip of a local resident proved to be very effective, and I was with a catch even in this seemingly off-season.