Morning at Baima Lake: The Surprise of Rising Water
October 12th started like any other fishing day—early, quiet, and full of hope. But as I reached the lakeshore at dawn, my first thought was, “Whoa, the lake’s swollen!” The water had climbed about four to five meters up the slope, submerging large patches of sun-dried beach that had been exposed just days before. The rippling surface glinted under the faint pre-sunlight, gently lapping at the embankment like it was greeting an old friend.
As the bright red sun peeked over the treetops, its golden rays spilled across the lake. Sunbeams filtered through the bushes along the shore, like stage lights cutting through darkness—totally dazzling! Baima Lake in the morning is such a stunner: calm, colorful, with birds chirping and fish occasionally leaping out of the water. October in autumn really brings the lake to life!
Trudging for the Perfect Spot (in Waterproof Boots!)
Carrying my gear, I walked half on land, half in water—thank goodness for those tall waterproof boots, or my feet would’ve been soaked. I trekked over a kilometer to find a good spot, and finally stopped east of a poplar tree where there was a dry patch to set down my bag. But the real reason I picked this spot? Weeds. Fish go crazy for weeds.
There were two types here: the native round-leaf, thin-stemmed grass (bright green, sparse, and fish magnets) and clumps of water peanut grass blown in by the wind. A row of old wooden sticks—left over from past fishing nets—trapped the water peanuts, so they stopped drifting and became another fish hangout. Perfect!
Mr. Jiang (we call him Banker Jiang) was ahead of me; he’d already chosen his spot and started baiting his nest when I passed. Old Jia was behind and stayed near Banker Jiang. We were separated by a thick patch of reeds—could hear each other talking, but couldn’t see a thing.
The Waiting Game: Baiting Nests and Testing the Waters
By 6:30 AM, I’d set up my first five nests. After sipping half a cup of tea and resting for 10 minutes, I tied my hooks, threaded bait, and checked the depth. Since the nests were in open water in front of the weeds, I used a vertical float with two hooks—one with earthworms, one with red worms. The water 10-12 meters out was 1.5 to 1.6 meters deep, which was just right.
But here’s the thing about red worms: they attract tiny fish like crazy. My float danced up and down or got pulled under, but every time I lifted the rod? Nada. Zilch. All five initial nests had similar depth… and no fish. Ugh.
But I didn’t panic. “Fish just haven’t found the nests yet,” I told myself. I had a good feeling today—we’d had two cold snaps back-to-back, then three days of warming up to 19-20°C. Plus, there was fog 10 miles from the lake, and even thicker fog at the shore. Fog usually means good fishing, right? No way I’d strike out.
The water was cold, though. Later, when I finally caught some fish, they were ice-cold in my hand—fish don’t move much in cold water early morning. But with the sun shining bright, the water would warm up fast, and those fish would be starving. I just knew it.
Annoying Poachers and Distractions
First thing in the morning, seven or eight small boats were out on the lake. Two people per boat—one rowing or running the engine, the other casting or pulling nets. And some of them were hitting metal plates to scare fish into their nets! Wait, wasn’t there a 10-year fishing ban here? Where are the enforcers? To be fair, it’s way better than before the ban, but still—ruins the vibe.
By mid-morning, the sun was so hot I had to take off my padded jacket and just wear a padded shirt. The poachers left around work hours, so the lake got quiet again. I listened to birds sing, watched fish jump, and even checked WeChat—sent my friends the scenic photos I took (with a watermark, obviously). A retired teacher friend in Suzhou texted right away: “Fishing again? Nice weather—are the fish biting?” A friend in Siyang didn’t notice the watermark and asked, “Out for a walk?” Ha!
The Slow Grind: When Fish Bite (Sparingly)
Eighty minutes after baiting my nests, I finally got a bite—but it was super rare. The first fish? An accident: my float suddenly sank and tilted, so I lifted the rod, and a small carp was hooked through the fin. Hey, “big carp brings good luck,” right? Maybe the big crucian carp would follow.
And it did! A nice crucian carp jumped out and got caught on a tree branch—had to use a modified net pole to get it down. After that, bites were few and far between: one or two per nest, if I was lucky. Three of my first five nests were total duds—zero fish. But one nest near the weeds was a winner: six fish, three big (2-3 liang) and three small (under 1 liang; I let the small ones go).
“Casting Wide”: 14 Nests to Catch a Few Fish
By 10:30 AM, I realized I needed to cast a wider net. I added more nests—ended up with 14 total, spread over 60 meters. Yep, I went all out. I walked back and forth between them: left for a bit, caught two; right for a bit, caught two. If a nest had no fish, I moved on—no time to waste.
Once I slipped on the muddy bottom, stumbled a few times, but kept my balance (thank my old-man coordination, still holding strong!). I just shook it off and marched to the next nest—fishing waits for no one!
Midday Updates: Comparing Catches with Friends
At 9:51 AM, Banker Jiang called: “How’s it going?” I said I’d caught four (including the accidental carp). He said he’d only got one crucian carp, but Old Jia had four or five. “Stick around,” I told him. “Today’s weather is perfect for fishing—we’ll get more.”
Before 10:30, bites were slow and scarce. After that, I added even more nests, but most were duds. Some had one or two fish, but that’s it. So I just kept walking: trudge to a nest, check, catch if possible, move on. My waterproof boots slipped a lot in the water—had to step carefully, but it was fun in a weird way.
Weird Observation: Hyperactive Carp Everywhere!
Today’s carp were so restless! They jumped out of the water constantly—near me, far away, big ones and small ones. The fat ones jumped high and splashed loud, grabbing my attention. Good thing bites were slow, so I didn’t miss any hooks because I was staring at jumping fish.
The weather was perfect: sunny, blue sky, white clouds, 2-level east wind, and tiny waves. Banker Jiang and Old Jia were chatting nearby, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying—probably complaining about slow bites too.
Late Afternoon: Wrapping Up (With a Few Fish)
At 2 PM, Old Jia called: “We’re packing up—gonna wait for you at the car.” I hurried to check my last few nests: 13 out of 14 had no bites, but the open-water nest gave me a final fish. I even checked a new nest I’d made before lunch—still no fish, but I bet it would’ve had some if I waited longer.
By 3:50 PM, I was done. I let the small carp go—it was still lively after being in the net all day, so it swam off happily. When I met Banker Jiang and Old Jia at the car, they looked at my catch: Old Jia said he had about the same as me, Banker Jiang said his was bad. I didn’t see their fish, but I’ll take their word for it.
Oh, and I took my trash with me—gotta keep Baima Lake clean, right?
