The first catfish I caught, more than two meters. It happened about 1:30 in the morning of 6/13/1909. His 2'08 nine minutes gave me such indescribable feelings, as indelible. He was returned to water, in perfect condition, on the morning of 13. To see him go ... it was more exciting to catch. This issue is one of those memories stored in a fisherman's soul throughout his life. Hopefully the following will involved, at least, as I did.
History of the arrival of catfish Sierra Brava in Spain
One day in spring 1974 a young German biologist, a little over 20 years, crossed the English border. Roland Lorkowski carried in his luggage 32 young catfish, a freshwater fish, prized by fishermen for their country. In the customs inspection procedures for the biologist said that the babies were going to serve to fish for pike in the marsh area Mequinenza.
The swamp was indeed his destiny. But a catfish fry were not killed. Lorkowski threw them into the water, confident in their calculations. His knowledge of the ecological balance of wetlands Mequinenza Riba-Roja and led him to predict that in a few years, and for various reasons, the two main predators in the swamps, pike and black bass, would suffer a considerable reduction. The biologist claimed that the main consequence of this would be the indiscriminate proliferation of the tents. And the proliferation of tents, in its end, could only pose a grave alteration of habitat.
Five years later, the fishermen began to take catfish in Mequinenza. Do not know what they drew. More specialized someone started talking, at most, that terrible animal that looked like a catfish mutation, attributable, no doubt, to the ravages of progress. But Lorkowski, regular holidaymaker in the area, scattered The news of the strange fish was none other than the great Danube catfish.
The traveler heard this story in the bars of the marshes, falling in the afternoon. It is easy to listen to anytime, anywhere. The hardest difficulty is in the name of the biologist, but otherwise, everyone knows it and repeats. The atmosphere is great. The spirit and excitement of fishing shows, as in the middle of the flock stamps, chess, any gray-the importance of having something to do in life. Fishers exhibit, sometimes with some ostentation, all European nationalities, predominantly German and English. Catfish spend all hours of your vacation. In Mequinenza nobody had heard again like volcanic laughter from the days of Eden, cabaret. He knows that the environment is not the most suitable, but the traveler has to fulfill its obligation.
- Lorkowski went to jail or just pay for it?
"No one bothered. Never. Nor should they bother. Then there was no law against doing what he did. Moreover, never say publicly that the young cast to water. What he did was illegal so now no one can deal with species. But it has been useful.
From the moment you leave tripod ready, keep to the end, hoping for a bite. It is also a high-flying hope, why do not you think it is a small tent, if not the largest that roam the area. This is one reason that keeps you there.
- The hours pass almost without realizing it. A radio, a phone book and make you take care of things much more bearable than it might seem. Once a day, two at most, the reeds are set and changed the boilies. The look carefully, you see their point, should have been pinched by a crab (present in the reservoir) and you wonder how many times may have been taken by a tent (perhaps that large tent) without your alarm, set at maximum sensitivity, have been able to detect the slight tug.
- Time passes and your moral between successive cycles of maximum and minimum. In times of downturn is the time to control yourself a bit, otherwise readily succumbs to the temptation to pick up and go. If the latter sums at risk of being detected by the Guardia Civil (with what that entails, if we talk at night (night fishing and camping) or are a person with a cool head and is difficult to spend three nights alone in a unknown, to 416 miles from home, almost out of battery on your phone, under an incessant rain, gusts Wind, cold, wet and no catch. However, having the absolute certainty that another moron like you, at that very moment, is going through similar circumstances, on the shore of another lake or river in Spain, often raise morale.
- Day look with binoculars all around you. It's amazing what can entertain such gossip. Watch the ducks, the flight of seagulls, the browsing of cattle, the animal tracks that night came much, much to your post without you perceive it.
- Being a reservoir with many snags, you entertain day in low and tied to hooks that night and with hands numbed by the cold, this is very complicated. Another thing I usually do is timing how long it takes to dissolve pva mesh full of boilies, taking water from the reservoir in a transparent jar. You measure water temperature at different times, sort the post, inside the bivvy, set aside stones, you notice the wind direction, you find spools, the yarn output, the volume of alarms, the stability of the tripod mount hooks for pop-up and testing their buoyancy, receive calls from family, friends and fellow work mates and I left there thinking that these as a cowbell, the cobra boilies spears, take photos, videos. .. While waiting ... while you wait and wait.
- The worst comes when, while sleeping, a light bite or the action of an active crab light and acoustic signal from one of your alarms (only one, because if there are two, three or four alarms activated, quickly denied that it is a dive, because it is a wave or a gust of wind). The heart then flips you to be awakened by vibration receptor minced hold in one hand. Open your eyes and see, from inside the bivvy, the flickering light of the alarm and wait, with emotion, torn from the tent. By now you've completely savvy, but nothing happens. "......, Think take it at all .., not dummies, "but then the light turns off the alarm. This is one of the most bitter feelings you can have. Vuelves fall asleep thinking about that dive when, without knowing the time elapsed , a ripped open you up again, making bedchair thrown out of the lace, feet in boots, open the door zipper bivvy ........, but by then, the alarm has stopped sonar. What remains is a flashing light signal, as witness the bite of a tent that ate poorly. Sales of the store to verify that after the arreón, everything is perfect. The wind and rain will freeze. tours head front light shining all around you, without to see anything concrete. Only darkness. ... Back to bed so cold and no one ...!!!, sleep ...!!. It is in these latter circumstances when you remember yours and this is where the moral of the fisherman is tested.
- This is the story of a night at Sierra Brava. When not bite at night, at least sleep, but when I eat badly, cursing the moment you decided to get there.
- Back home, while driving, go over all those times you suffered cold, humidity, wind (sometimes deafening) ...., all kinds of hardships and calamities ...... .., the lack of bites. You realize you've been disconnected from civilization for several days. A kind of calm comes over you. You feel very good about yourself, yet .......
As you plan the next session you think, you're poisoned.
