2024 Fishing Log 64: First Trip to Baima Lake Tributary – Unexpected Bites and Surprising Catches!

Pre-Trip Jitters & Road Trip Antics

Last night, my buddy Jiang called me up, hyped to explore Baima Lake’s tributaries. “Dude, there are so many rivers around the lake—surely we can find a spot with fish, right?” he said. I was sold. Who can resist a new fishing spot, especially one with “unexpected bites” written all over it?

This morning, we hit the road on the lake’s ring road, stopping every few miles to scope out potential spots. The first few rivers looked promising—lined with reeds and wild bulrushes, the kind of cover fish love. But then, we stumbled on a bridge with two empty boats… and TWENTY cormorants! Those birds were clearly done working for the day, stuffed from their owner’s “reward” and just chilling. Where was the owner? Probably selling off the day’s catch, if you ask me. We noped outta there faster than a fish escaping a hook—no way we were competing with cormorants!

Scouting the Perfect Spot (And Dodging Trash)

Back on the ring road, we kept heading south, checking out more rivers. After a few duds, we pulled over again. “Let’s split up—you go east, I’ll go west,” I told Jiang. I trekked west along the north bank, where the river was flanked by farms and lotus fields. The banks were overgrown with bushes and trees, and some spots were so tangled, you could barely get a rod in. But here’s the thing that made my blood boil: every halfway decent spot had fishing trash—plastic bags, old hooks, you name it. Ugh, some people have zero respect for the water. It’s like they think the river’s a garbage can! But hey, you can’t fix stupid, right? Just gotta focus on the fish.

When Jiang and I met back up, we agreed on a spot. He snagged a primo position first, so I headed west—no big deal, I love a little hike to stretch my legs. The weather? Total bummer. Forecast said light rain, and it did drizzle a few times, but never stuck around. Old Man Winter was slacking, I guess. No sun all day, just thick gray clouds hanging low. Super gloomy, but hey—fish don’t care about the weather, right? Well, most of the time.

Setting Up & Waiting (The Hardest Part)

By the time we got set up, it was 8 AM, and we’d wasted time scouting. I rushed to mix my bait and drop some chum. Most spots were already fished out—you could tell by the old chum marks and footprints. Some were under trees, which is a pain because you have to watch your rod like a hawk. I even brought a saw and a machete to clear some branches! Those overgrown bushes were a hazard—could’ve hooked my line or even tripped me. Safety first, am I right?

After 30 minutes of waiting (which felt like 30 hours), I started testing the waters. I used a size 0.3 Chinu hook, 1.2 soft line, and red worms—classic winter bait for crucian carp. I tried three spots first: two near the grass, one in open water. The grass spots? Nada. Open water? Zilch. But then, there was a spot by a cluster of dead bulrushes… and BOOM, first bite! A 1.5-ounce crucian carp hit the line instantly. Score!

The Hot Spot That Kept Giving

That bulrush spot was a goldmine. The bank was lined with dense reeds and a huge tree, so it was probably untouched by other anglers. I had to cast my long rod at an angle—couldn’t lift the fish straight up, had to reel it toward me slowly. Winter fish are lazy, though—no crazy jumps, just resigned to their fate. I landed five crucians there, ranging from 1.5 ounces to 2 ounces. Not huge, but solid for a first spot!

When the bites stopped, I moved west. But those spots were already overfished—so many old chum marks, you could barely find a clean spot. I managed one tiny 2-ounce crucian there. Total dud. Next, I tried a spot where someone had cleared some bushes before me. I hacked off a few more branches to make space… but wasted effort! No bites at all. Frustrating, but that’s fishing, I guess.

The Smelly Spot That Surprised Me

Then I hit a spot on the half-slope—there was a tree stump hole, but it was filled with dead fish the local farmer had dumped. Yuck! The stench was unbearable, especially with the damp, cloudy weather. But wait—every chum spot there had bites! I had to put on a mask (thank goodness I brought one) and tough it out. Each spot gave me a crucian, around 3 ounces each. Gross, but effective. Who knew dead fish attract live ones? Nature’s weird.

I moved to another half-slope spot—two chum spots, no bites. Then a spot where I could get down to the riverbed, two grass-edge spots. Right one? Nothing. Left one? Two small crucians, 1 ounce each. Meh.

Round Two: Double Down on the Hot Spot

By 10 AM, I decided to revisit my original hot spot. I added two new chum spots—ones I’d noticed earlier but hadn’t tried. The right two spots by my gear? Still dead. But the left bulrush spot? BANG—first cast, bite! Then another, and another. I landed FIVE more crucians there. That spot was on fire! I added a new chum spot 2 meters to the right to let it “brew” for later.

Then there was this old guy from the fish farm across the river, just pacing back and forth, staring at my float. Creepy, right? I thought he might be an electric fisherman (those guys are the worst). When he asked, “How’s the fishing, boss?” I lied: “Nah, just a few small ones. This one’s okay.” He called it 3-4 ounces—dude had sharp eyes! I kept my guard up, but he left me alone. Phew.

Lunch Break & Bird Watching

We didn’t eat lunch until 1:15 PM—way too late, but fishing makes you forget time. I had a quick sandwich, then headed back. The weather was still gloomy, no wind (forecast said 2 mph northeast, but it died down), and the high was 50°F. I was sweating from all the climbing, but I didn’t dare take off my jacket—last week I got sick from sweating and undressing. My buddy’s rule: “Better sweaty than sick.” Truer words never spoken!

While fishing, I noticed two magpies on a tall poplar across the river. They had a huge nest—one was probably the female, going in and out, the other was guarding, chirping every few minutes. Below them, a road with bikes, tractors, and trucks zooming by. Those birds didn’t care—total city birds, used to the noise. Cool to watch, even if the traffic was annoying.

Afternoon Fishing: Quick Hits Before Wrap-Up

Jiang called at 10 AM, saying he already had 3-4 pounds of fish! I was shocked—either he’s gotten way better at traditional fishing, or the spot’s just that good. Probably both. He joked earlier, “We’ll each catch 7-8 pounds today—make Old Jia regret bailing!” Old Jia stayed home because of the rain, saying he needed to “recover from a scare.” Pfft, it was a tiny incident—what a wimp!

I started fishing again at 2 PM, and we agreed to wrap up at 3:30 PM. I skipped the dead spots—no point wasting time. I hit six spots, but only three had bites. The east two spots gave me seven crucians: three 2-ounce, one 3-ounce. Then back to my hot spot—two more crucians! That spot had 15 total, which is insane compared to the dead spots. Those dead spots? Total garbage—wasted bait, wasted time.

At 3:20 PM, I checked the new chum spot I added earlier. I was too lazy to put on red worms, so I used a lively red earthworm. The float twitched, then pulled toward the bulrushes. I reeled in—another 3-ounce crucian! Dead center on the hook. That was my last catch of the day.

Wrap-Up & Final Counts

We packed up at 3:25 PM, even though the hot spot still had bites. Jiang had to get home by 5 PM, so I went with his flow. My total? 20+ crucians, around 4 pounds. Jiang? A pound more—definitely the “river champion” today. No argument there!

Oh, and we brought back all our trash—can’t say the same for some other anglers. Ugh, that part still bugs me. But hey, the fishing was great, the company was fun, and we found a new spot that’s actually productive. Can’t ask for much more than that!