Setting the Stage: The Dilemma of Where to Fish (and a Lucky Break)
Last night, two buddies—let’s call them Jia and Jiang (to keep it casual)—slid into my DMs asking where I planned to fish today. Their top picks? Duitouji or Lvliang, spots we’d hit before. But honestly? I was so over those places. My gut was pulling me toward Nanzhai, but I couldn’t make up my mind fast enough. Then, scrolling through WeChat (yeah, I still use it for fishing tips), I saw a post from a fellow angler, “Excellent Writing Style” (fancy nickname, right?).
Oh man, his catch photos and videos? Total game-changer. He also dropped a detailed write-up of his trip, and let me tell you—my willpower vanished. How could I resist when the fish looked that plump and the spot sounded that promising? I owe this guy a huge shoutout—seriously, anglers who share their spots are the unsung heroes of the fishing world. No gatekeeping here, just pure generosity. So, thanks, “Excellent Writing Style”! You’re the real MVP.
Getting Lost (But Finding the River—Finally)
We plugged the coordinates into the nav and… arrived. But wait—where was the river? All I saw was endless wheat fields and rows of village houses. Jia and Jiang were like, “Trust the map, bro!” So they trekked south through the wheat, way farther than I wanted to walk. Meanwhile, I flagged down an old master (you know, the kind who knows every inch of the land) and asked for directions. His answer? “Go east, then south.” Simple enough, but why didn’t the map say that? Anyway, we followed his lead and—boom—there it was: the Hongze Lake tributary wild river we’d been chasing.
While I scoped out the banks, Jia and Jiang parked the car and hauled their gear up the embankment. We set up facing south: Jiang on the east, Jia in the middle, me on the west. I wanted space—they love mixing float fishing and traditional tactics, and I had a specific spot in mind. “Excellent Writing Style” had sworn by fishing the heavy weed beds with worms, so I hightailed it 80 meters west to put some distance between us. No sense crowding the good spots, right?
The River’s Secret: Lush Water Hyacinths (and Their Rebellious Flowers)
Winter’s here, but this river’s water hyacinths didn’t get the memo. They were still bright green, even blooming tiny yellow flowers—total rebels against the cold. I mean, how dare they look so lively when the poplars on the banks were already bare? It was kind of magical, though. Those flowers popped against the gray sky, like nature’s little middle finger to the season. And that’s where the fish were hiding, no doubt about it.
Setting Up Shop: 8 (Yes, 8!) Initial Fishing Spots
I scattered 8 bait stations like a madman: some at the distant weed edges, some close to shore. There was this one section west of me where water hyacinths covered the whole river—lucky for me, there were 3 natural weed holes (two close, one far). That’s a angler’s jackpot, so I dumped bait in all three without hesitation. Then I kicked back, sipped tea, and scrolled my phone while the bait did its work. Patience is key, but man—waiting is the worst part.
After 10 minutes, I rigged up to check the depth: 1.67 meters far out, 1.34 meters close in. First cast? Tiny fish—Jia called them “meat heads” (weird nickname, but it stuck). I pulled up three before deciding they were just nuisances. Time to check on the guys.
Buddy Check: Jia’s Quit Smoking? And Jiang’s Fishless Panic
Jia’s a former heavy smoker—like, “chain-smoke through 2 packs a day” heavy. So when I saw him without a cigarette, I was shocked. “How’d you quit?” I asked. He just shrugged: “Willpower, man. If you want it bad enough, you do it.” Fair enough, I guess. Meanwhile, Jiang was glued to his float, smoking like a chimney, and muttering, “No fish jumps, no small fish playing—are we even in the right place?”
I laughed. “Fish are jumping in my spot, dummy!” Right on cue, a carp leaped out of the water with a loud splash. “See? And fish bubbles? Wait till spring. Winter fish don’t splash around like that.” We chatted a bit more, then I headed back to my spot. By then, 100 minutes had passed—bait should’ve drawn the big ones in.
The First Catch: That “Oh Yeah” Moment
I dropped my line into a weed hole 2.5 meters from shore, using a Chinu 0.3 hook with red worms. For ages, nothing. I was about to move when I felt a tug—firm, not the tiny nibbles from the “meat heads.” I lifted the rod, and boom—2.5 ounces of crucian carp, fighting like crazy. The rod bent just right, and I yelled over to Jia: “I got one!”
He yelled back: “Me too! Two, actually—traditional rod, weed edge.” Nice! Confidence skyrocketed. Time to start cruising between my spots, checking each one for bites.
Cruising the Spots: Small Wins and a Sudden Current
First stop: two spots on the east end—one far, one 2 meters from shore. The far one? Nothing but “meat heads.” The close one? Another crucian, bright silver, jumping like it wanted to escape back to the river. Score. Then I hit the three spots near my gear bag: a half-moon of weeds, with stations on both ends and one sticking out into the river. Three hours in, all had fish. I pulled up two small crucians from the front, one from the left, and a tiny 1-ouncer from the right. Not huge, but consistent.
Suddenly, the current hit. First east, then west. “Must be a sluice gate somewhere,” I thought. The river curved both ways—east to a bend, west to the northwest—so no way to see the gate. I swapped my line for a heavy lead rig: slow current, so heavy lead drops fast and stays put even if the water moves. From the surface, the float drifted, but the hook stayed in the bait station. Smart move, right?
Midday Surprise: Military Helicopters (and Birds Freaking Out)
Out of nowhere, a rumble. Three military green helicopters roared low over the river, heading southwest. The poplar trees exploded with birds—flocks of them squawking and fleeing like their lives depended on it. I grabbed my phone to snap a pic, but only two made it into the frame. Bummer. Once the noise died down, I dropped my line again… and caught another crucian. Guess the fish didn’t care about helicopters. Cool.
Weed Holes = Gold: Worms vs. Red Worms (Worms Win)
I added three new bait stations near my gear bag (one far, two close) then hit the three natural weed holes. First hole: red worms, no bite—just tiny taps (fish testing the bait). I switched to live red worms, and wow—game over. Worms wiggled like crazy underwater, and the fish couldn’t resist. Two big crucians, rod bending so hard it looked like a bow. Nice.
Second hole: same story. Red worms did nothing, but worms? Two more big ones. Third hole was far and blocked by weeds—hard to see the float. I climbed the embankment a bit for height, held the rod’s butt end, and waited. Tired? Yeah. Worth it? Absolutely—two more crucians in 5 minutes. That far hole was a sleeper hit.
Afternoon Shifts: Wind, Lunch, and New Spots
Sun never came out—gray clouds all day, and a light rain at 9 AM. North wind blew, but we faced south, so no waves. Just a few poplar leaves drifting down into the river. We stopped for lunch around 12, then got back to it. Wind shifted to east, then southeast.
Two new spots west of me had small crucians (1 ounce each)—caught 7 or 8. The three weed holes? Dead. So I added a new station in front of the middle weeds. Back to my gear bag: old stations were quiet, but the three new ones (2 hours old) had bites. Caught two from the far one, one from the left close one, three from the right close one—all ~2 ounces. Solid.
Wind Ruins the Party: Water Hyacinths Move (and Cover My Spots)
By 2 PM, wind picked up. Those stubborn water hyacinths? They started moving—slowly, but enough to cover my weed holes. From the surface, the holes looked fine, but the bait stations were under the weeds. Total bummer. I gave up for a bit and walked west to check out a big weed patch. The embankment was blocked by vines, “little devil forks” (prickly weeds), and dead grass—my pants were covered in the devil forks and burrs. Took forever to pick them off. So I cut through the north wheat field, climbed a green farm truck, and found a middle-aged guy fishing there. He had 10+ crucians, no small ones. “Wind moved the weeds and covered my spot,” he said. I asked the river’s name—he mumbled something I’ll call “X River” for now. Turns out it’s connected to the one in Siyang and Suqian. Crazy— I’ve driven over that river a hundred times and never knew it had fish like this.
Last Cast: Chasing a “Final Fish” Before Home
Back to my spot at 3 PM—wind died down, so the rooted water hyacinths went back to their spots. “One more cast,” I thought. Weed holes? No bites. Bait stations were overbaited (too much food, fish got full). But the new station near the river center? Bite! First cast, I looked up at the darkening sky (afraid of rain) and missed it—felt the hook catch the fish’s mouth, though. Re-baited with worms, cast again. Tug—got it! Perfect end to the day.
15:30, we packed up. My catch was second, Jia’s first, Jiang’s third. No shame—Jiang stuck to float fishing, and the weeds were better for traditional tactics. We hauled out all our trash (leave no trace, always) and headed home.
Man, that day was a rollercoaster—lost, found, helicopters, wind ruining spots, but those crucians? Worth every minute. Next time, I’m hitting that X River spot the middle-aged guy was at. Who knows? Maybe even bigger fish. Until then, tight lines, everyone!
