The Midnight Train to the Ukraine Part II - The Fishing Adventure…

I found out early that it was taboo to even suggest that we work on Sunday. Not because of any religious influence, Sundays were a revered day of rest; more like recuperation from a Saturday night of partying. The staff at Ukrborgas had made plans the day before to take us fishing today. Another Anatoli would come by at 11:00am to pick us up. What would fishing be like in the Ukraine, I wondered?

We got a call about 10:30 telling us to go down to the market and buy some rods. Vova embarked on this critical mission and came back with two that would do nicely for the day. Tolia appeared shortly after along with two of his friends Alexander (Sasha) and Andrei. We squeezed into his car and away we went.

As always, the first stop was the market. Bread, cheese, kielbasa, beer and, of course, vodka. Then another stop was made at his parent’s house. This was a truly interesting place. Although they lived in town, their yard resembled a small farm. Chickens, ducks and geese ran amok in the yard to the tune of their baying watchdog. We crossed the rambling garden and found a corner to dig for worms, got water from their well and picked up a soup pot. With the last of the supplies loaded, we drove off, out of town to our destination for the day.

The weather had cooperated nicely for our trip. Even this late in September, it was a sunny and warm 14-degree (60F) day. Villages and farmhouses flew by as we traveled out of Krasnograd. The trees were resplendent in their fall colors. After a half an hour of driving, we turned off onto a gravel side road. This rapidly narrowed down to a one lane sand road, which, after another kilometer, dwindled even further to a heavily rutted, nearly impassable cart track. Another half hour traveling down this brought us to a small lake tucked in a valley surrounded by cornfields. A trailer with various other outbuildings clustered around sat in a clearing beside it.

The barking of the dogs brought the residents out of the buildings. Anatoli got out to meet them and after a few minutes, motioned for us to join him. We then met Slava, a grizzled, unshaven fellow and his equally rough looking cohorts. We quickly found out that Slava leased the lake from the nearby farmers and raised fish in it. He proudly told us that for each 30 gram fry or baby that they stock in the spring, they can get a grown 2 kilogram fish before freeze up in October. His pride in his operation was apparent; every detail of it was made known in the 30 minutes that we stood there talking with him. He then offered to show us their technique of “electric fishing”. Orders were barked out at his crew and they scurried off to get the necessary gear. A slow leisurely walk brought us to a dam and an outlet stream. The “boat” was already being set up. Batteries and a box that looked like a military radio from World War II were loaded aboard. While the connections were being made between these items, another man proffered a dip net on the end of a 2-meter pole. As it turned out, the mesh of the net was made of fine steel wire. A cable from the net gadget was then hooked up to the “radio”. Another employee, clad in waders, grabbed the net and entered the water. With another colleague pulling the “boat” behind him, he slogged downstream in the waist deep water. The net was in constant motion in front of him. He would bring it to the surface and a couple of times there would be a small fish, momentarily stunned, laying on the mesh. A deft flip of the wrist and it would join the others now piling up in the boat. While all this was happening, Slova kept a running dialog about not only this operation we were watching, but his fish business as well. He also made it known that he was looking for a partner to invest in his operation. After an hour of this, we decided that we better get fishing if we were to have any fish for dinner tonight. We walked back to the camp, where Slava jumped in his battered “Ruskie Jeep” as he called it and led us around to the other side of the lake.

We pulled into a small clearing beside the lake, nestled in the trees. While the supplies were being unloaded from our trunk, a bottle of vodka and glasses were found and shots were poured. This time it was Nemieroff vodka, a golden Ukrainian blend with a hot red pepper in the bottle. The last toast was to good fishing and with that, Slava climbed into his “Jeep” and clattered down the road.

All the while Sasha had been gathering firewood, now he had a roaring blaze started in the rough fire pit there. He filled his soup pot ¾ full with water and set it to boil over the flames, while he dug through the various bags seeking the fresh herbs, vegetables and spices that would make up his “Uha” or fish soup. Vladimir, Andrei and I set up the fishing rods and trekked down to the water’s edge to try out luck.

Ukrainian style fishing, at least with these guys, would never make it on an outdoors program on television. We basically baited our hooks and flung the line out as far as we could (not far with our cheap rods), watching the bobbers for any sign of action. After that it was wait, smoke and drink beer (the others indulged in steady conversation, but my language skills were severely lacking in Ukrainian). But the fact that we were out in the great wide open, relaxing on a beautiful fall Sunday afternoon made it all worth while. Even though only Andrei caught the only fish and it was too small to keep.

Back to save the day was Slava. He roared up in a cloud of dust. Racing around to the back of his “Jeep”, he opened the tailgate and pulled out our saving grace, four or five of the ugliest fish I’d ever seen along with a bucket of smaller fish that they’d “electrocuted” in the stream. Sasha immediately set to cleaning them to be added to the boiling broth over the fire. For my benefit, this time they would remove the heads and tails.

After a few more toasts to Slava’s presents, we set about having dinner. The Uha was ready only after Sasha the required amount of vodka to it. The first bowl was passed to me, complete with a big chunk of fish in it, bones and all. Now I was never a big fish eater, but the smell of the soup was so good that I had to try it (really I had no choice, all eyes were on me!). And voila, it tasted excellent! Coupled with tomatoes, kielbasa, cheese and bread, it made for a truly delicious meal. We all dined in the flickering light from our campfire.

After supper, we sit and talked, bathed in the glow of the dying firelight. The sun had already set hours ago. It was time to head back into town. Another fine day in the Ukraine drew to a close in the good company of new friends from the other side of the world.