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Lure of fishing on very thin ice

As the snow melts, Russians head out for one last fling on frozen lakes, but thousands drown each year.

DISPATCH FROM MOSCOW

April 07, 2008|Megan K. Stack, Times Staff Writer

MOSCOW — The big freeze is thawing out, giving way to longer, brighter days. Caked snow and layers of ice have dwindled away, leaving gobs of slick mud in their wake.

And the deadly season has arrived on lakes and rivers across this wintry country, as foolhardy fishers venture onto thinning ice for one last fling in a melting landscape.


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In the grip of a perilous obsession, thousands of Russians drown every year as they push the limits of safety for one more day on the ice, fishing officials say. The fishers know it's dangerous, but they go anyway. They tiptoe gently onto melting ice, making exploratory jabs at the surface with picks, scanning for a telltale blue tint in the surface. They buck themselves up with swigs of vodka and tall tales.

"We fishermen say that a good man will never drown," said retiree Vyacheslav Koryavin, 65, "and we're never sorry if a bad man drowns."

He boomed with laughter at his own joke.

"We say the time you spend fishing is crossed out of your life span," roared his friend, Valery Andronov, a 56-year-old driver. "That means I'll live longer!"

The two men had headed for the inaptly named Picturesque Bay, a flat spread of water fed by the Moscow River on the fringes of the capital. All around, men were hunched over the ice, working the lines with bare hands, smoking cigarettes and staring into the frozen depths. The sun beat down, but waves of bitter cold radiated from the ice.

Belly laughs rolled across the ice as the two men waited for a bite. The handful of fish they'd already hauled up flopped in a plastic trash bag. They had sandwiches, a jar of coffee and plenty of bait. Both the men have fallen through the ice before, but they managed to survive -- and keep coming back for more.

Andronov pointed to the southern horizon, where the buildings of Moscow were visible through the naked trees. "There in that megalopolis, we just barely exist," he said. "Out here is where we can live a real life."

His friend interrupted his soliloquy. "Only one of my sons is a fisherman," he blurted out, eyes twinkling. "The problem with the rest is that my wife cheated on me."

And then the two laughed some more.

Ice fishing is a way of life in Russia, passed down through the generations. Risky fishing also happens to be the best fishing, the men insist. When the ice gets thin and the water warms up, the fish get more oxygen and start biting.

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