Kodlo Lake

On the territory of the test range there are dozens of large lakes, but the biggest and most visited is Kodlo-ozero. Interestingly, all the northern lakes on maps and in local usage are written and spoken with the prefix “ozero”. Ozero Oya-ozero, Ozero Voya-ozero, Ozero Syamg-ozero, Puksa-ozero, and so on. Probably only our city lake is called Plesetskoye Lake or Plescy.

To the right is the town of Mirny, to the left Ozero Plescy or Plesetskoye. In the foreground, memorials to the fallen.

I cannot list the lakes where I cast lines or drilled holes. It would be too long a list, maybe even over a hundred lakes.

So Kodlo-ozero is remarkable not only for its size; the main thing is that an excellent concrete road leads to it. And it is relatively close, about thirty kilometres. We caught a lot of perch and pike from Kodlo. But we only went to it in the first year of service. Well, it is not so interesting when it is so close, so simple, and on a good road. Then the surrounding area began to be explored. And if in summer some lakes are inaccessible, cut off by impassable swampy bogs, then in winter, after the ground has frozen, most lakes become ours. Cars become stuck in dead-end forest roads and then there is a final push by skis. In another winter every single trip for fishing did not repeat the previous one. Each time to a new lake. I should say that catching large fish in our lakes is not an easy task. Practically all of them are populated with small perch or crucian carp in an incredible amount.

Wherever you drill a hole, on the first cast they shake the mormsik with “pencils.” For some new, never-explored lake—always far away, hard to reach—we had to drive there at night, around ten o’clock in the evening, to make it to the ice by dawn. All night we drive, dig out, push. We try to go in two to three cars because it is safer and easier to push. At dawn we get on the ice, drill the first hole, by the bank. Only for a quick sip of spirits. We ate a snack and then dispersed, aiming for bigger fish. But most often disappointment is waiting, always the same small fish. Fine, now the task became to lure my friends and comrades into that tangle of dark water. On the entire way back we worked out a strategy for fibbing. The main thing is not to exaggerate the size of the fish. Over time I got a pass for one of the camp zones at a decent lake, Karm-ozero. There, we fished well in the company of the Anikeev family, Nadi and Tolya, wonderful anglers.

We very often spent time there as a whole family at picturesque Syamg-ozero. The sand is pure white.

The trip to Ken-ozero is unforgettable. For some reason they call it Northern Switzerland, although in Switzerland itself there may be no lakes this beautiful. It is so scenic, ringed by extremely irregular, rocky, and steep banks. And it is very rich in fish. Andryushka was 11 months old, and we took him on this trip to Ken-ozero after making one ferry crossing of the Onega along the way. My god, how much the mosquitos and gnats bit him on this trip. And he did not know he was supposed to cry and complain, he only grunted like an old granddad. His character had already shown itself.

That same summer we went on a weekend fishing trip to the Emtsa river, roughly forty kilometres from home, with all of us, all four, as a family. By that time we already had a good three-person Polish tent. I fished very well; Tanya, Lena, and the little one got sunburned and fed the mozzies. Not a soul was around. At about four in the morning we packed up and headed back. I revved the car to power through a steep and long, about two hundred metres, climb in a ravine, washed out by rain rills. At the very top, as the saying goes on the final stretch, at the last moment, I managed to notice a sharp rock jutting out of the grass and at once the car jerked slightly from a hard hit. I turned and in the light of the white night I saw a continuous black stripe of about three centimetres in width on the ground. Instantly everything was calculated in my head, and on autopilot I kept pressing the gas to get as close as possible to the people and estimated when the oil would run out so as not to ruin the engine.

That is it. It is dangerous to drive further. I climbed under the engine and probed the puncture. It was an almost round hole in the sump; two fingers fit in it. Lena and Tatka fell silent, understanding that it was bad business. It was Monday, early morning, a remote taiga road. And you cannot call in at work. To the main road, twelve km. I left everyone in the car and ran, stripping off extra clothing as I moved. I ran for a couple of kilometres, then dropped to a moderate pace. I still had time to catch my breath. Then, luckily, a motorcycle came rolling toward us. I explained the situation. The man had taken time off to fish in these very parts where I had been running. A sensible man. He said no tow was needed. We would take oil from his garage, and I would make a chop and manage to get to Mirny. We drove to his settlement, Shelekse, brought the oil, and he rode on for his already delayed fishing trip. The people in the car did not sleep. They stood guard against bears and runaways, and hunkered down. Only the engine was breathing softly.

I always keep an axe and a saw ready in the trunk. I made a neat chop, drove it in, filled in oil, and then drove for almost a week with it until we repaired the sump at our plant. Not a single drop of oil leaked. We put together a groceries kit for the good man from Shelekse. People live very modestly.

One should not forget the fishing trips with Nina and Vasya Kartashovs. Warm-hearted people. And Vasya is also a tremendous haryuzatnik. Once, we even organized a peretyazh with him. This is when two spinning rods are set from opposite banks. It seems that on this wonderful sunny day Lena put on my L-1 suit with felt boots and stepped into the water. Even though it is warm summer, valenki are mandatory, because the water in the Emtsa is always cold. So she walks slowly, slowly, and then suddenly lets out a scream. It was because the gravel under her feet began to move, since Lena had gone deep enough and gained neutral buoyancy. She got her fill of fear. A familiar feeling.

With the Kartashov family. In front of Lena, Svyatik Bulyshchenko.

The head of the Kartoshkin family, who is also the master haryuzjatnik!

Next chapter >>