Catfishing in March 2013: Ice-cold fights and monster catfish
Vitali DalkeIn mid-March 2013, spring showed its most merciless side! Snowstorms and night frosts made us think more of February. But our inner restlessness drove us on. Dreams of fierce bites and fights with river giants became an addiction – the "fishing withdrawal symptoms" were unbearable. We spontaneously decided: two days of fishing! Without much thought, we packed the car and set off. The drive seemed endless. Finally, from the bridge railing, we saw the river – a murky, rushing current, littered with flotsam. A pure natural spectacle!
The fishing spot:
We chose a bay with a maximum depth of 2 meters—a supposed hiding place for fish from the icy current. As we set up the tent, it started to rain, quickly turning into sleet. Inside, Andre and I prepared our rods. Suddenly, the roar of a diesel engine pierced the storm: Alex Nikojan, our madman, had arrived straight from the night shift—having driven 200 kilometers! He was greeted with jokes and hearty cursing. The rain stopped as if on cue.
First Bite – Slapstick on the Riverbank:
My rig: lead weight (350 g), 60 cm leader, mini underwater float with a catfish hook. Bait: a bundle of earthworms. Cast to 15 meters, along the reed belt. I had barely reached for my second catfish rod – beep! The bite alarm blared! In disbelief (the rig had only been in the water for five minutes!), I rushed to my rod. I made a powerful strike, but my feet slipped on the clay bottom. Plop! I landed in the mud, accompanied by the laughter of the others. Seconds later, I was back on my feet and reeled in a small catfish—not a giant, but the first catfish of the new fishing season!
Carp angler vs. catfish hunter:
In the evening, two catfish rods were next to an arsenal of carp rods. Before nightfall, a few big bream bit on boilies. The next morning, Alex and Andre urged us to change spots – I couldn't compete with two carp enthusiasts!
Fatal move:
While we were loading the van, the catfish rods reported two bites within five minutes! But the fish were just playing—no catfish were hanging on.
Evening Triumph:
As we sat around the campfire, chatting about fishing, my bite alarm suddenly wailed! A missed bite. New bait, same spot. 20 minutes later: Another bite! I waited, felt the pull – and struck! The braided line sang with the thrashing of my tail – the catfish had bitten right on the bank! An adrenaline-fueled fight: The catfish bolted, my rod trembled, my hands went numb. Finally – I caught it by the lower jaw!
Midnight coup for the birthday boy:
Startled by Alex's scream of "WAAAALLER!" His rod bent to breaking point, the reel screeched – the fish took 30 meters of line! The 0.40 mm braided line barely held. When the colossus surfaced, it was clear: a monster! I waded into the icy water, grabbed the line. Meter by meter – until I grabbed its jaw. A BEAST!
Photo session in ice water:
Alex's birthday present: A monster catfish with a 115 cm belly circumference! His catfish and mine refused to "pose." We fought waist-deep in the icy water while Andre snapped photos. Weight? Not measured, but definitely 100 kilograms...
Conclusion:
This March trip became legendary. Freezing cold, tears of laughter, two trophies. Unforgettable.
