LAKE CANTERNO (rocks) 
Summer is now in its final phase, the cities look like back in the crazy ant snorting with people who, prey to the usual daily traffic, trying to reach the offices with his face still shows signs of a holiday just passed. I instead, with a toothy smile to begin to calculate, calendar in hand, every day you can spend fishing, to take advantage of the period, in my opinion, is the most enjoyable of the season Fisherman. The objective is to revisit the popular fishing spot during the season the championship is over, to spend some 'time in serenity, surrounded by the colors and sounds of nature. I want to let yourself be inspired by feelings unique that only the slow flow of a river and the bright colors of a sunset over the lake can offer.
My tour begins from Lake Canterno, a place that inspires in me memories of the first competition played and the immense emotions in the landing net the first fish species, but that Garisto have forgotten ... perhaps because, despite being more decisive result in the rankings of the championships, often embarrassing nice collection of "bb". The appointment bad that this small body of water brings with it for years now has always been associated with the small amount of fish present, but that, in my opinion, is not absolutely true: I note I have it in person, also spend a whole day, that its difficult to take depends on the unpredictability of love "people" who inhabit it. They are able to move from a state of absolute apathy in a feeding frenzy can give hours of fishing "from fear."
The alarm clock is set at six, and looking over the glass window in the kitchen know that you have all the prerequisites of making this a beautiful day. The time just a coffee, load the car and on ... destination lake! After about an hour's journey I come finally to the goal, and here I check the accuracy of my assumptions: perfect day! The water seems a huge mirror in the reflected image of the surrounding hills, rippled only by a family of ducks who, disturbed by my arrival, they decided to leave the bank. Not a breath of wind. Unfortunately, however, I know that all this grace will not last indefinitely: after many hours spent in this enchanting place I know now a menadito ogni sua caratteristica; prima fra tutte la brezza che, a metà mattinata, arriva sempre a disturbare la battuta con fastidiose raffiche.
Scarico la macchina ed in men che non si dica la postazione di combattimento è pronta. A trenta metri circa noto alcune bollate che vorrebbero indurmi a cominciare con l’inglese, ma io preferisco di gran lunga la francese. Con lei passerò questa splendida giornata, costi quel che costi!
Preparo due punte con elastico da 1mm, lenza madre 0,12 e terminale 0,10, il tutto impostato per la caccia ai ciprinidi. I will start fishing with a gram, while the second striker will use it when you raise the wind, riding a float of three grams sealed. I begin to hurl balls of groundbait and silkworm glued to the bottom, after which, rouba in hand, I start to play with the float. But alas, the dense presence of small fry and perch are starting to make me nervous. After about ten minutes of hell take the wise decision to initiate the corn. The small fry is now a memory problem, but something much sadder to me the previous results in doubt and perplexity: This cap does not want to go down! "... wow an hour has passed and nothing new ..... the wings have to wait ... or maybe it's better to change ... but what is ?!...". At the end of rationality leads me to think it is better to wait.
to keep me company there's two seniors who start bottom fishing. They look at me, beginning with the usual ritual phrase: "anything yet?". I reply with a facial expression can make him understand all my regret, and they take the opportunity to comment on the degradation of the lake, giving of course blame the small amount of fish on those who in recent years have ventured into real "slaughter" by means not just sports. Then recall the periods during which there was possible traps staggering. But something is changing from a distance began to see the water ripples, clearly indicates the arrival of the wind. Strangely, I welcome this diversion with confidence, because, although something must change! In fact .... a gust of wind forced me back to the rouba a few meters. While I wait for the calm stretches back feel a jolt. And elastic around me begins to come out, there is no doubt: it is a carp who walked my float. I decide to take the fight a bit 'more than they should, since so far I have endured a hard effort to abstinence. Then the Pesciotti goes online ... kiletto a nice splash of muscle makes my morale sky high. But it is only the first of many. Initiation of new corn, throwing a ball of groundbait, then two calls and the cap plunges again, another carp. Two hours of fishing enjoyment than ever. The two fishermen, suddenly transformed into spectators forced to renege on all those nasty "my lake," and I, "poor", which incannate one fish after another! Now I am satisfied, justice is done. Carp, rudd and carp, although modest in size (1.5 kg max), have honored me. Uploaded the equipment in the car I turn once again to admire the landscape from above. I remain amazed. The lake is surrounded by the fiery red of the sunset ... an idyllic vision. Canterno Thanks! I knew that I'd disappointed ... to the next.
Lenze used:
Float an ounce: 70% bulk = 0.70 g = 0.72 g = 3x2 mounted 30cm from 'slot, tail 30% = 0.30 g = 1x6 +1 x7 +1 x8 +1 x9 = 0, 30cm 32gr distributed in space, with the 'last bullet (1x9) by an inch' hole.
floating three grams sealed: this particular frame, is recommended on windy days, the peculiarity lies in the 'wrap a piece of tin that is the weight of two grams on the drift of the float, while the third gram , will be filled with the frame geometry identical to that described above.
0 comments:
Post a Comment