Ilim-2002, or the four of us and without vodka on the outskirts...

*You will live long, All!* Ilim-2002 (eyewitness notes) I remember that in June a certain newspaper “Fisherman of the Fisherman” carried out on the Chusovaya River festival That is, typical fishing competitions with their prizes and so on, what usually follows from this. And it was in the place where the old one used to be the village of Ilim, now a wasteland of the same name. And I must say, the results, later published, not only shocked us, but in general they made me laugh at the end. Prize-winning place - 350 grams of small "shack" or something else that sparrows and cockroaches won’t have enough for a snack. And it just happened to please me on the eve of reading the results, it is not possible to pull out a hefty chub and company less decent characters in just half a day, on the same Chusovaya, and even and 100 km. upstream from the "festival" site! On mine, of course, favorite ship, which I’m here for the first time in my life and fished... Well, and in order to give heat to the “shameful fishermen” (especially Muscovites, who showed off the most at that festival), I wormed my way into one company serious fishermen (when I was just born, they had already centner), which kept its rate on that same Ilim. Naturally, and a reason came up with a good one - printed out the results of that same competition on hisstreamer and presented it to them. They laughed, of course, but what can you do... And so - the forests of the Shali region flash through the car windows and we rush through primer in the “fishing capital of this year.” 150 kilometers, 2 hours of travel and we already in place. The picturesqueness of the place is amazing, although the vacant lots and here and there the skeletons of houses are slightly spoil the view. And there’s no wood at all! What to do?.. The men went to get firewood forest, and I stayed to guard the things, and at the same time released the ship. They arrived with firewood. Let's think about what to do. One says - There’s a riffle upstream, I should go there and check the gray water. The second one is not answering - grab the balamboshka and run upstairs. The one who proposed, naturally He almost swears, too - grab your joker and chase after him. Hy and I decided to watch how they catch graylings with a balamboshka and asked for the same one for myself thing, I ran after these two “frames”. It must be said that “balamboshka” is a cheap alternative to expensive fly fishing. It is a foam float (large and thick), inside which is a weight. Everything is organized so that the float stands vertically in the water. Behind the float there is a fishing line, and on it there are three flies, each a meter apart, on 5 cm leashes. From the float to the first fly is also a meter. Mushki - no some expensive fly fishing bullshit (wow - 1.5 dollars for a “spinner” -only a fool who will buy money immeasurably (I will tie that up myself, even if I'll need it)), on which nothing bites, but a clumsy self-propelled gun from small tees, cambric rings and badger wool, on which, somehow It’s strange, the fish takes it brutally. And this whole structure clings to the usual spinning It is thrown and carried out like a regular wobbler. While we were walking, there was an incident - one of the fishermen got stuck on his finger at gunpoint. Yes great! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull it out. Second ran up - let's help, and the tears were running from the (seasoned man) himself. “No,” says the victim, “you’ll have to cut. Give me the knife!” Second: “Oh, damn it, you’ve been spoiled!” They began to cut the skin in that place, where the hook dug in, and here he takes it and jumps out. “Phew! It turned out well,” says the second one. “Agave will need to be applied if it festers!” - I timidly insert advice. "What?!" - the “victim” plows over, frowning. “Do you even have a first aid kit?” - I’m still trying to hold on somehow, but already I realize that I don’t have long to compete with them in medicine. Both of my roommates looked at each other, looked at me and laid me down on the spot: “When you get married, you yourself will know where to shove!” There were already people at the riffle - some two “casting officers” arrived at jeep and did their best fly fishing. Our usual question was answered “no, no.”biting" and showed small things in the cages. “This fly fishing rod,” says one of my companions, “costs 1,500 rubles. Hy - the tackle itself. But for us they are competitors, no matter how funny it may sound." We put on our wading pants and climbed into the water. And here I will do a little lyrical digression. * * * A stream of free power. The roll is noisy and plays in waves, the glare of the sun runs chaotically across it. Water rushes at such speed that you involuntarily shudder at the thought that now you will have to enter this stormy rapids up to your waist. But I overcome fear and Enter the river carefully. Someone is jumping out from under your feet. Myriads of minnows and small minnows, Having discovered me, they hurry to hide, but do not sail far. Hiding in coastal thickets of “water burdocks” and other river greenery, sometimes flashing in the sun sparkles. And I have already entered the river almost waist-deep and I feel how I am being pulled forward, but I not yet so deep as not to be able to withstand its power. The sun is blazing hot, but your feet are slightly cold - the August water is cold. But I enjoy both of these feelings. Oops! A pebble the size of a brick fell under my foot. The river was just waiting for this - shook it with all her might. But the past experience of “rolling” did not allow it to happen a sharp joke - he stood on his feet. He grinned and looked affectionately into the water. Oh younaughty! Well, if it were July, if it were warm, I would climb here alone swimming trunks and play with you, beloved river, from morning to evening. But today, at least and it bakes superbly, but the water is a little cold for water procedures. Plop! A sheaf of spray and an elusive drop of two kilograms, describing in the air meter-long arc, falls flat into the water of the roll. I look at that place with envy. Eh, no matter how hard I try to catch at least one this summer, I still can’t it turns out... Yes, if only we could pull out such a handsome silver man with red fins and a chiseled tail! But now I'm interested in the charisma. I throw away the balamboshka, and immediately - pleasant heaviness somewhere there at the other end of the tackle, alternating with the trepidation of the caught fish. * * * As a result, I caught two fish - a palm-sized chub and a bleak (!). My companions clearly “caught” me - 150 grams of gray fish, 150 grams of chub 200, this is the first one. The second one caught 6 pieces from 100 to 150 grams. But for those who did nonsense at the festival, our team is at its best As a result, I’ve already caught it! And this - in just an hour and a half! Our third companion, sitting all this time behind his ship, did nothing caught. We return to the camp (that’s what we call the bivouac). While we were walking, we saw a huge viper snake. And at the camp, the fisherman, guarding the things, points toa nearby hummock. And there are two vipers basking in the sun. Nothing a resolution for yourself! Yes, this looks like a snake-like place (there is also an overgrown ravine here)! Well, I'll be lucky again. While the ship was rinsing, he sat down on it 100 gram dace. Total - 200 grams already there... The first fisherman, being a maximalist (in his words), gives away all his catch me. Cool, of course, but it would be better if I caught it myself. While dinner was being prepared, I decided to chat with the snakes (although I We strictly recommended not to do this). So I took the stick... But we got some kind of slow snakes. How many of them do I have for small heads? I didn’t poke with a stick - zero emotions. Let's move them insolently already. Zero emotions. Only everyone is trying to find a comfortable position again. I threw away the stick and looked on them. And then my leg started to go numb, so I moved, in short. Hy snakes me and ysaw. For a second somewhere we stared into each other's eyes, and then the vipers didn't be fools - they quickly disappeared from the hummock. Yes! And I also remember the words of some freaks from the herd (not even the tribe!) human: “I look - a reptile is crawling, but I hit it with an ax! Over the summer, already from I killed a dozen - oh and they got divorced, it’s just some kind of nightmare!” What nightmare? Is this a nightmare? Defenseless little creatures, at the sight of a person immediately fleeing for their lives. Let’s say, even those who use their weapons -very painful and very, very rarely fatal (and even then when a person there is a banal allergy to it, and when help is not provided in time) the only poison is a case when there is nowhere to go, when they have already “grabbed and crushed”. And the only people who got divorced to the point of a nightmare are people. No - people... In general, night crept up unnoticed. Here the conversation slipped in about that this year has been very, very bad for the fish... This is where the first and second The fishermen put up a net... And let’s make excuses, they say - fish this year not enough, the hook is weak, all hope is only on the net. Well, I know them well - they had never used networks before this year. Hheh, I guess we'll see what you do catch... It got dark. One went to sleep, the other went to race the boat. And then suddenly - on you! It’s like a submarine floating along the river with a headlight like a train. "ABOUT!" - says the first one, - “the electric bastards are swimming! Damn, they are now Our networks will be caught, we should warn them!” Okay, to hell with it. I'm sitting on the bank with a reeled-in boat. I'm waiting for these barbarians from the same human herd will float by. And they don't They're in a hurry. Slowly dragging... They began to swim closer - some kind of sound began to be heard periodically original. A clanging sound, as if a switch was being thrown sharply. Ege - I think it’s theirs The converter is "noisy". Bitches!But as they swam almost close to me, the picture became clear. Imagine two men on a fragile boat, one has a halogen flashlight on his head and the right hand has a spear, and the second one has oars. The first one swears at everything: “More to the left, more to the left, more to the left I said! Oh, pike! Right, right, right, drive your mother! Where did you go, where did you go, hush, hush! Hy left, left, right I said yes where are you going, sheep?!!" And the spear periodically hits the water, and it hits the stones and It clangs and for some reason it always comes back empty. Here I am almost laughing died looking at these "Indians". I was especially sorry for the second one - he didn’t he’s to blame, he doesn’t see what’s under the bow of the boat, and the fact that the first one is oblique, that’s not his problems... Okay, to hell with them, I'll go to bed. All the same, nothing bites... And at night, that means another joke - in my sleep I hear an impending rumble engine, I open my eyes and - the blinding light of the headlights is right in our camp. I jump up. I grab the first club I come across. Oops! Rybnadzor! UAZ, there are five portly men in it. Two of them (the driver and the actual inspector - with a hefty elephant slaughterer, equipped with an optical sight (why, In fact, did the mammoths gradually begin to thaw out?)) - completely sober. "Good night!" - they say. “Can I look in your trunk?” They opened their empty trunk. Well, they stared into this emptiness and let's gomeditate on it. “Yes,” they say, “but how law-abiding people are. Well, calm nights!" - and climbed into their car. "Yes, thank you!" - they hear in response. I didn’t see anything of this. They told me this later. And I saw you the elephant slaughterer herself and the prospects that she opened up for me... With such a thing!.. Yes, the whole city will be at my feet, yes, all my orders will be, yes I it’s so cool... And what a wild place this is! My eyes lit up yellow with predatory fire so that it illuminated the tops of pine trees standing 100 meters away. With a wild, primitive roar, I rushed with a club at those five. No, theirs quantity and their total mass would not help them, even if they were in knew kung-fu, y-shu, kyo-kekyushinkai and sum combined perfectly. For I it was no longer me - it was a solid battle tornado made of solid fields, carrying death and destruction to all living things. Before they had time to utter a word, they would already be lying down all with minced meat, packed into briquettes. And to my great disappointment, they realized this. The UAZ made such a U-turn and took off so fast that it weighed about 15 kilograms turf in the form of small particles flew from under his wheels. Immediately typing "100 km", he simply melted into the darkness, like the famous "Millennium Falcon" of the unforgettable Captain Han Solo, who turned on the hyperdrives on the fifth cruiser.I, by inertia, flew along a curve onto some thick tree and in two within seconds he turned it into a cloud of sawdust. Due to strong friction, the sawdust all flared up. I stopped, but at first I didn’t understand where the fisheries inspection had gone. In your footsteps (there was a trench two deep and about eight meters wide) I returned to camp, tripped over his sleeping companion and... woke up. It was already dawn. But the sky was overcast. I remembered the forecast of Phobos: possible rain. That's where he went. But I didn’t give a damn. For I was in my cozy little house (so-called "heat pocket" that accumulates the heat of the fire) made of polyethylene film. The next morning, when it was already dawn and the rain had stopped, we collected our gear. It was all around damp, but the air was warm and pleasant, although the sun had not yet come out from behind the walls of the ridge that was on the other side of the river. During the night, the second fisherman, for whom luck smiled yesterday on the rift, pulled out half a kilogram chub. But the networks turned out to be empty. Then, already in the morning, he went to the roll, which was already below us and there he caught another 6-7 pieces Khariysov. We reluctantly took off from our place and with some slippage, but we got out onto the road. There was a way home ahead. As I said goodbye, I took another look at the river, at its riffles and reaches. And yet, the festival was done in the most “unwanted” way. And this was encouraging, although my result clearly did not go into third place... Whatcan you help it? There were times this summer when the catch was hard and the fish were large. But this when visiting places that were difficult to reach, where you had to wade through Wilderness of the taiga and yom. And here is an accessible place. All the fish are already simply "scooped out." Here's Ilim for you... /That’s all, All, what follows is only the truth.../