My Early Morning Rush to White Horse Lake Wetland
January 30th started way earlier than my usual weekend—6 AM, to be exact. I dragged my friend Old Jia out of bed, and we hit the road to White Horse Lake Wetland. When we got to the dock, it was already a zoo: seven or eight cars parked, most anglers already out on the lake, and another five or six people waiting for boats. I suggested we skip the crowd and head north, but when we got there? Same story—five or six cars, more people waiting. Old Jia sighed and said, “Let’s go back.” Lucky for us, the boat was now waiting for passengers, so we hopped on.
Uncle W, our boatman, dropped us at the spot where I’d had a great catch last time. But man, things had changed. The “secret” path I’d hacked through the reeds was now a smooth trail, and every possible nook had been turned into a fishing spot. The worst part? Trash everywhere—plastic bags, bait containers, even broken fishing lines. I knew exactly what happened: Uncle W saw me catch fish here, so he started bringing more anglers to make extra cash. Can’t blame him for wanting to earn, but c’mon, people—clean up after yourselves!
By this point, the spot was totally fished out. But we were stuck—no other boats around, and we couldn’t walk back. So I grabbed my gear and started scouting for new spots. I picked a few spots in the river, tossed some bait, and even checked the west side where I’d fished before. Just as I was finishing, a young angler yelled, “Hey, save some spots for us!” I laughed and said, “Alright, one left for you guys,” then moved on.
The “Lei Feng Hat” Guy Who Stole My Spots
Not long after, a pontoon boat roared over—you could hear its engine two miles away. The guy driving it wore a thick winter hat (my hometown calls it “three-piece tile,” like the ones Lei Feng used to wear) and a camouflage coat. Let’s just call him “Lei Feng Hat.” He parked right near my spot and started baiting.
I put on my waders and checked the lotus root field behind me—maybe the fish were hiding there? I used a branch as a walking stick and depth checker. The water near the shore was frozen solid, so I had to bait farther out where the boat waves had broken the ice. The lotus field was separated from the embankment by a small channel, but the ice there was too thick to break with my branch. I decided to head west instead, cutting through dense reeds with my machete. After 10 meters or so, I found a small dirt ridge with a willow tree—perfect. I baited two spots west and one east, then sat down to wait.
Forty minutes later, Lei Feng Hat was already catching fish. Ugh, his spot had way better resources. Then another pontoon pulled up with a couple—they didn’t even bait, just used long rods and short lines to “tease” the fish. And guess what? They caught fish too! I asked the guy, “Do you see any float movement?” He said, “Yep, same as fishing in a baited spot. Just toss the hook into the lotus stalk gaps and wiggle it—fish bite.” I tried it… nothing. Total bummer.
Then I saw it: Lei Feng Hat was fishing in my baited spot! And he was catching one after another. I grabbed my gear and ran over. By the time I got there, he’d moved. I said, “You were just fishing my spot, right? You saw me bait it this morning!” He just smiled and said nothing. The woman angler next to him snickered. C’mon, dude—wearing a Lei Feng hat doesn’t mean you have to act the opposite! I checked my spots—they were empty. So I packed up and left.
Lotus Root Field: My Last Hope (And It Delivered)
I headed back to the lotus root field. The reeds were so thick, and the thorns from a small bush I’d cut earlier poked a hole in my waders! (I fixed it later at home with shoe glue and a bike inner tube—pro tip, by the way.)
The east spot had no bites, but the west spots? Goldmine. I only baited two there—regret not doing more! The far west spot had the most fish: six in a row. The closer one only gave me one. Total so far: seven fish, about a pound.
This lotus field was hidden in reeds, stretching all the way to the big blue lake. In summer, the lotus leaves shade the water; in winter, the stalks give shelter. The fish here were dark green with yellow bellies—they bit gently, but once hooked, they’d fight like crazy, trying to dart into the lotus stalks. Good thing the hook was firm!
Pro tip: Untouched fish are way easier to catch—they’re less skittish and bite deeper. Even though it was winter, the water here was only about a meter deep, and parts were still frozen at noon. But the fish didn’t care! When I unhooked them, they were ice-cold—brrr.
I added a little more bait to the two spots I’d fished and baited two new ones. Then I went back to the river to check my old spots—only one more small crucian carp. The rest were dead.
Drama Between the Boatmen (Total Killjoy)
The couple on the pontoon left, but Lei Feng Hat was still there. He’d stopped baiting and started teasing like the couple—moving his pontoon a meter or two every while, fishing every inch of the grassy area. He caught a ton, but everyone else on the shore? Nothing. The two young guys I’d saved a spot for were still empty-handed by noon. They called another boatman, Uncle X, who showed up with a metal boat and charged them 30 yuan each. No haggling—they just wanted to catch fish!
Turns out, Uncle X had been badmouthing Uncle W earlier. He’d yelled his phone number (a Beijing number—so the young guys were probably home for Spring Festival from Beijing) and said Uncle W overcrowded spots. Only the young guys took the number. Later, when Uncle W came to pick them up, they were already with Uncle X. Cue the fight: two 70-something boatmen yelling and waving poles at each other. We had to step in to stop them—seriously, over a few bucks? Ruined the whole vibe.
Afternoon Fishing: The Big Catch (And a Heartbreak)
Enough drama—back to fishing. The river spots were still dead, so I went back to the lotus field. The east spot was still quiet, but two of the four west spots were hot: the rebaited far one and a new one in dense lotus stalks. I fished those two back and forth, catching ten more fish (plus a small crucian) — about two more pounds.
The highlight? A big one! I cast into the new spot, and the float moved slowly left for three seconds. I pulled—heavy! I thought I’d hooked a lotus stalk, but no—there was a fish, with a rotting lotus leaf on its head. I dragged it away from the stalks, let it gasp for air for a minute (so it stopped struggling), then pulled it in. It was at least half a pound—Old Jia later said more like seven or eight ounces. Then I caught a smaller one that fought so hard it splashed water everywhere, attracting another angler’s attention.
By 3:15 PM, the sun was warm and golden. Black pheasants (huge—like five or six pounds each) were swimming in the lotus field, making noise. But my spots went quiet—probably the big fish scared the others. I checked the river spots I’d rebaited at noon—one had a bite! I pulled too early, and the fish got away. Next time, I waited—caught a nice crucian, but it darted into the lotus stalks and broke my line. That was the second time I lost gear to stalks.
Heading Home (With Mixed Feelings)
Uncle W was yelling for us to get on the boat—he was still mad at Uncle X and wanted to leave fast. Old Jia had caught eight fish in the afternoon (about a pound) but had to stop mid-bite. I packed up, and we left.
The sunset over the lake was beautiful—golden light on the water, dry grass, wheat fields, and power lines. But the boatmen’s fight had soured the mood. Next time, I’m taking a different boat—there are plenty of families with boats in the wetland villages. Just pay, and they’ll drop you anywhere.
Total catch for me: four pounds. And yes, I took all my trash home—no way I’m adding to the mess out there.
If you’re planning a trip to White Horse Lake Wetland, here’s my advice: go super early to beat the crowd, bring wader repair kit (those thorns are no joke), and try the lotus root fields—they’re hidden gems. And for the love of fish, clean up your trash!
