Norway, year two
The second saltwater fishing trip: fewer fish, more sun, two sleepless nights on the road — and the same effect that made it worth going.
By Georg Malahov
I'm back from Norway. It's Wednesday, June 10, I'm on my way to work, trying to fold the week into one story.
The fishing this year gets a four out of five. Though in the big picture everything went perfectly: we came back — that alone is an achievement — nobody got hurt, the first-aid kit stayed shut. There was just noticeably less fish than last year. There was a day when we searched for it all day and found almost nothing; there was a day when a strong wind carried the boat so far off that we motored back for an hour and a half through the waves. But I did catch a trophy cod at six kilos — we made fish soup from its head. And we hit our quota anyway.
Walking the rocks — every step has to be measured
This time I understood more precisely what this kind of fishing does to your head. Everything there is meditative. In the boat it's rod up, rod down, drop, lift, jig, move to a new spot — and so on all day: thinking about anything in a concentrated way is impossible. Then the cleaning: an assembly line, everyone at their station, and we don't even put on music and barely talk — just mechanical, snip-snip-snip. Even recording a voice note is hard: you try to gather your thoughts — and it doesn't come. One day I went for a walk along the shore, and it was the same there: you walk across the rocks, every step has to be placed, the wind rocks you in gusts. It reminded me of walking in Karelia — only there the shore had bilberries and blueberries, and here it's pebbles, grass, and seaweed.
The way back — two sleepless nights: we left at three in the morning, a ferry, all of Sweden, Denmark, another ferry. At home I was back with the family — all good. I sorted the fish into the freezer, got myself back in order, and in the evening handed out the presents.
The vacation worked. Only a week has passed, but it feels like more. My head has switched over completely: right now I can barely remember what my plans are and what needs doing — the vacation effect is plain to see. Written on my face, in fact: there was unexpectedly a lot of sun this time, and my nose got burned. Physically, though, I didn't rest — the lost sleep on the road and the late evenings with the fish took their toll. Other things make up for it; that's just how it goes.
There was unexpectedly a lot of sun this time
There were slightly fewer impressions than the first time: same road, same people, same place, same room and bed. So next year we're going somewhere new — an island with deeper water, where you need different gear for deep-sea fishing. All that's left is to rinse the tackle in fresh water so it doesn't spoil, dry it properly, work out what to buy, and save the list — so that a year from now I don't have to piece it all together again.