All the Hassle, Finally Landed a Big Crucian Carp!

Let me tell you, this fishing trip was a rollercoaster—one that ended with a trophy catch, but not without some serious twists. I’ve been swamped lately, so afternoon outings are my only shot at the water. October 18th, 2024, I packed my gear, grabbed a quick lunch, and hit the road for a spot I’d been eyeing: the south bank of Wenyun River (north of the city), right at the edge of a shallow bay where it meets the main channel. The water there’s perfect—1.0 to 1.2 meters deep, with reeds stretching five meters out from shore. My 4.5-meter rod could just reach the clear water beyond the reeds, and I’d seen other anglers pulling in fish there before. Fingers crossed, right?

Setting Up: A Surprise First Catch

First step when I arrived at 1:30 PM? Drop my tackle bag and do a quick depth check. I was just testing the water with an empty hook when my float started acting weird—tiny, jittery moves I didn’t expect. I twitched the rod, and boom—I’d snagged a big bitterling! Talk about a good omen. I tossed it in the bucket, set up my rod, and threw two handfuls of homemade wine-soaked rice for bait. Time to wait for the bite.

The Early Bites: Was I in a Gudgeon Hotspot?

At first, the bite was slow—no surprise, since the bait takes time to settle. I rigged a whole worm and dropped it to the bottom, hoping for crucians. Five minutes later, the float dipped three times in a row. I lifted the rod, and there was a gudgeon! Not the target, but hey, at least there were fish. I rebaited with a fresh worm, cast again, and boom—another bite. This time, I pulled up a double header of gudgeons! I’d never caught so many gudgeons in a row before. Was I in their secret hangout?

The Big One: A Gold-Plated Surprise

Just when I was starting to think I’d only catch gudgeons, something wild happened. About two meters in front of my float, a huge splash erupted—too big for a gudgeon, too flashy for a bitterling. My heart skipped a beat. I reeled in a little, cast a few feet farther, and waited. Two minutes later, my float vanished under the water. I twitched the rod gently… nothing. Did I snag a reed? I pulled harder, and suddenly I felt a tug—a real fish! The water was only 1.2 meters deep, and it was October, so the fish didn’t fight as hard as they do in summer. I reeled it in, but when I loosened up for a second, it darted toward the reeds. Panic set in—if it got tangled, I’d lose it. I cranked the reel hard and lifted it out of the water, and there it was: a stunning crucian carp, silvery with a golden sheen, at least half a pound. I was so excited I almost dropped my phone taking a pic. But here’s the thing about shallow water: big fish scare the hell out of the rest. I quickly took a photo, dropped it in the bucket, and cast again…

…and nothing. Nada. Zilch. For 30 minutes, the float sat dead in the water. I twitched it, dragged it, even tried a little worm twirl—nothing. The gudgeons, the bitterlings, even the tiny minnows were gone. Ugh, classic shallow water problem: one big fish spooks the whole school.

Changing Tactics: Flying the Float to Save the Day

Since the bottom bite was dead, I decided to switch things up. I tied a new hook, cut a worm into tiny pieces (to target small fish), and tried the “flying float” method—setting the float so the bait hovered 2-3 centimeters off the bottom. It didn’t take long. Five minutes later, the float dragged sideways. I lifted the rod, and there was a gudgeon—breaking the silence like a tiny troublemaker. After that, the bites came slow but steady: small crucians, minnows, more gudgeons. No more big ones, but hey, at least I wasn’t skunked. I didn’t bother taking pics of every little guy—just focused on enjoying the fight.

Wrap-Up: The Final Haul and a Quick Note

By 5 PM, the sun was dipping low, and it was time to head home. I dumped my bucket on the shore to count: 30+ fish, most small, but that one big crucian was the star. I took one last pic of the trophy, then did what every good angler does: kept the big one for dinner, released all the small ones, and picked up every scrap of trash (including my old hook covers and a random plastic bag someone left). No sense in ruining a good spot for the next guy.

Random Tips I Picked Up (The Unplanned Kind)

Every trip teaches you something, right? Here’s what I learned this time:

• Shallow water (1m or less) needs multiple bait spots. One big fish spooks the whole area—if you have a backup spot, you can keep fishing while the first one calms down.
• When small fish stop biting suddenly, it’s usually a big fish moving in. Switch to a whole worm and wait—you might get lucky.
• If you’re only catching tiny stuff, cut your worm into tiny pieces. The big guys won’t waste time on a 1cm worm, but the small ones will snap it up fast.
• October is a great time to fish—even in the afternoon. The water’s cool, but the fish are still active (as long as it’s sunny, like it was that day: 15-19°C, light south wind).

Honestly, the hassle was worth it. That golden crucian? It tasted amazing for dinner, and the story’s already a bragging point with my fishing buddies. Next time, I’m bringing extra bait and two rods—one for the bottom, one for flying float. Maybe I’ll land another big one. Fingers crossed, and tight lines, everyone!