Overnight on Friday the thirteenth

It just so happened that we went fishing with Nikolai-Beard on Friday the thirteenth. And although I have never attached particular importance to these primitive superstitions, I have nevertheless heard of the fatal role of such coincidences on the number and day of the week. And somewhere deep down there was still a slight doubt: maybe you should not tease fate and go a day later. Nikolay, of course, sincerely laughed at my doubts, and it became funny to me. Therefore, despite the drizzling rain, we hit the road.

In the village, which is spread on a high level, which became the Volga coast after the formation of the hydroelectric power station, we met with an old friend and Volzhanin Leonid. Celebrated the meeting. Then plunged into two wooden rowing boats. One boat was mine, and the other we took from Leonid. Moreover, my boat was of the usual construction, as the local villagers build their ships, and was a boardwalk with a bottom made of galvanized iron. Despite its impressive size and weight, it walked quite quickly and was stable, which is important when you are standing spinning. On swivel little boats it is not clear: to hold a stable position or throw tackle? What is fishing here? I usually pulled my boat ashore after fishing and fastened it on a chain and lock to a strong alder growing on the shore.

Our friend Leonid’s alodka was made of an aluminum pipe, which is used to water meadows and fields. It was barely sheathed with boards on top, and even her nose was somewhat cut off, which, it would seem, is dangerous for the vastness of the reservoir, since such a nose is not able to beat off the wave. But at the same time, Leonid’s boat was much lighter than mine, which allowed a friend to drag it alone through the Volga islands. It was hard for me and the two of them to drag even through the narrow shifts and on the log rinks. Usually this was done by the company. But it was necessary to drag the boats across the islands so as not to go around them. The islands are long, albeit narrow. The flimsy design of Leonid’s boat was also explained by the fact that he didn’t have to go far on his boat. All the villagers set up nets in the so-called “swamp”, in rough, shallow water, closed from the wave. And no matter how much fishing control fights with them, people living near Big Water have always done this and will do so. They don’t buy blue whiting in selmag ">

So, we put on life-vests with Nikolai and set off. On the way we stopped on an island and also “clinked” for meeting with autumn water, sharply smelling of icy freshness. And that was a big mistake. You can’t drink on water and ice, at least you can “take” a shot, not more. The meeting with autumn water was repeated, only in a different guise. But - in order ...

On the island we left my boat, grabbing it with a chain. They dragged Leonid’s boat through the wreck and "rested" already in the dugout, having melted a stove welded from sheets of iron. Then they grabbed the spinning rods, and entered the water in the duct. And the most ridiculous: all five or six kilometers we walked in separate boats and did not take off our vests, but here it became hot and crowded in them. A chain of events followed, not the most pleasant, albeit while fishing. Nikolai moved to the “can” in the bow, out of habit, like on my heavy boat, “gave” oars and Leonid’s light-winged boat with a cropped nose was already a submarine ... And this is in the middle of a fairly wide channel. Water in October is not much different in temperature from winter water. The clothes are already heavy. In a word, swimming was not very comfortable. The oars were rescued. We slipped them into the armpits. So we got, but to the opposite bank of the channel, since there was nothing to choose. We were closer to this shore.

The situation was as follows. While swimming, my boots went to the bottom. Matches, which were always in a sealed bag, disappeared somewhere. The phones got wet and showed no signs of life. From above, rain was falling already with snow. And only the lighter that I warmed around my neck literally saved our lives. I cut a piece of birch bark from a birch and soon a life-giving fire was burning. I put on rubber gloves on my feet. In turn, putting on boots, we went for firewood. And in the morning, when I cut the harnesses from the OZK cloak and we began to haul birches for the construction of the raft, fishermen removed us from the island.

And we found Leonid’s boat, having sailed around on my scow. She stood by a neighboring island, with things and gear, but full of water. Then we could not turn it over or scoop up water, and we would not have time in ice water.

That was Friday, the thirteenth ...