The Last Fishing Trip of 2022: Chasing Bites Before the Cold Hits

Why This Was My Make-or-Break Fishing Day

Let me tell you—when I checked the forecast last week, my heart dropped a little. The weather app screamed RAIN + DROP IN TEMPERATURE for the 18th. That meant if I didn’t get out on the 17th, my fishing rod might be hanging in the garage until spring. No way was I letting that happen. I’d already struck out on the Xiao Fu River the day before, so this trip had to count. Even if it was just a few small bites, I needed to call it a “successful” end to the year.

Wait, let’s recap that Xiao Fu River fail first—maybe it’ll make this trip feel better? I sat there for hours, only landing five tiny crucian carp. Why? Two big issues: first, the water was only 60 cm deep (super shallow for this time of year), and second, the current was so strong, my float wouldn’t stay still on the west bank. Total waste of a morning. I thought, Maybe I should break out the raft rod next time? But for today, I wanted something low-key—no long drives, no fancy gear. Just me, a bike, and a hope for a few fish.

My Low-Key Plan: No Long Drives, No Fancy Gear

I messaged my fishing group: “Who’s down for a quick trip today? Let’s hit the spot north of Zibo Middle School—you know, the Zibo Thousand Island area.” No one wanted to drive far, so everyone was on board. The rule? Leave the car at home. Gas is expensive, and when you’re not catching fish, every mile feels like a waste. So I grabbed my bike, a tiny folding chair, and my go-to rod—simple as that. This was gonna be my “lazy end-of-year” fishing trip.

Oh, and I didn’t leave at the crack of dawn. Early morning water is freezing this time of year, and I’m not about to turn into an icicle for a few bites. Ten-thirty was my start time—sun’s up, air’s a tiny bit warmer, and I can feel my fingers. Perfect.

First Stop: The Big Pit (Spoiler—It’s Flooded)

I headed straight for the big pit across from the school first. I’ve fished the east side before, but today? The water was way up. My 5.4-meter rod’s float was practically at the tip—way too deep for me to handle. Then I remembered the north side: a old willow grove I used to fish years ago. I thought, Let’s check that out—maybe it’s not flooded?

Riding the west path was a nightmare. If I’d brought a car, the branches would’ve scratched the hell out of it. But on a bike? I could weave through, though I almost ate dirt a few times from the potholes. When I got there? Oh no. The water had flooded the entire willow grove—almost up to the road. There’s no way to fish there. Total bummer. I stood there for a minute, thinking, Did I waste my bike ride?

Backup Plan: The Tiny Pit (Where the Old Guys Hang Out)

Then I remembered a tip from a friend: there’s a smaller pit west of the big one. I’d never been there, so I pulled up Google Maps and started navigating. The road was even worse—more branches, more potholes, and I swear I saw a ditch that could’ve swallowed my bike. But I kept going. When I finally spotted the pit? The entrance was packed with bikes and those little “old man cars” (you know, the electric ones with the tiny seats). I thought, Great—this is where the locals fish. If they’re here, there’s gotta be some action.

I didn’t rush to cast. First, I walked down to check the water. I asked a few old guys how it was going. Their answer? “Fish are biting slow, but you won’t go home empty-handed. Just watch out for snags—this place is full of them.” Snags suck, but “no empty hand” is all I needed to hear. I found a spot, set up my chair, and got ready.

Setting Up: Shallow Water vs. Snags (I Chose Shallow)

The old guys were all fishing the deeper spot—about 2 meters. But that area was covered in dead lotus leaves. My casting is garbage on a good day, so I knew I’d spend more time unhooking from leaves than catching fish. So I moved to the edge: water was shallower (1.3-1.4 meters), no lotus, but probably smaller fish. Fine by me—small fish are better than no fish, and no snags = less frustration.

At 11:30, I tossed in my bait: a mix of Western Wind Niu Wo (a local bait) and musk rice wine. Then I baited with a worm—classic, can’t go wrong. Now I just had to wait.

The Slow Wait (And the First Bite)

Thirty minutes passed. Nothing. Forty-five. Still nothing. I started thinking, Did I mess up the bait? Should I switch to corn? Then at 12:30—there it was. A tiny twitch on the float. I lifted the rod, and felt a little tug. When I reeled it in? A tiny crucian carp, maybe an ounce or two, but golden as a sunset. It was beautiful. I snapped a pic immediately—this was my first catch of the day, and I wasn’t letting it go unrecorded.

The bites were so slow after that. No big “dunk” on the float—just tiny pecks, like a bird eating crumbs. I’d stare at the float for five minutes, blink, and it’d be gone. I missed so many bites I lost count. But hey, at least I wasn’t freezing, and the sun was out. Could be worse.

The Window: When the Bites Finally Picked Up

Around 4:00 PM, something changed. The fish woke up! It wasn’t fast—maybe one bite every five or six minutes—but it was consistent. I even landed a slightly bigger one, maybe two ounces. But here’s the problem: I’m terrible at seeing the float in low light. By 4:30, the sun was dipping, and I could barely tell if it moved. I missed three bites in a row before I gave up and just waited for the tug.

Then—boom—I had to leave. 5:00 PM was pick-up time for my kid. I was in the middle of a hot streak, too! I wanted to stay, but parent duty calls. So I packed up my gear, tossed the fish in a bucket (I’d cook ’em for dinner), and headed home. Total bummer to leave when the bites were good, but what can you do?

Wrap-Up: Would I Do It Again? (Spoiler—Yes)

So, was this the “epic last trip” I wanted? Not exactly. But was it better than sitting at home? Hell yes. I landed a few fish, didn’t freeze, and didn’t waste gas. Plus, I found a new spot (the tiny pit) that I’ll definitely come back to—if the weather warms up before winter really hits. Maybe I’ll even bring a better float next time, so I can see the bites in low light.

Local anglers—if you’re in the Zibo area and want to fish this tiny pit (or any other spot), hit me up! I’m always down for a lazy fishing day, no fancy gear required. Just bring your bike, a chair, and a sense of humor (because snags happen).

Here’s to 2022—may 2023 bring warmer days, better bites, and fewer flooded willow groves. Tight lines!