Why I Dared to Fish as a Typhoon Loomed
A few days prior, the weather app had been blaring typhoon warnings, but honestly? Most typhoons around here just bring a bit more wind and occasional drizzle—nothing too crazy. On the first day of the month, the morning was calm enough that the silver minnows were darting around like usual, but by late afternoon, a light rain started to fall, and the trees outside were whipping around like crazy. That’s when I thought, “Okay, maybe this typhoon is actually on its way.”
I shot a message to my fishing buddy, fully expecting him to say we should hunker down indoors. But nope—his reply was something like, “Pfft, that’s nothing! We’ve fished through worse. Grab your gear and let’s go!” If he was game, who was I to back out? So I got to mixing my bait right away, eager to beat the rain to our spot.
My Go-To Bait and Gear for Windy Night Fishing
Last time I fished, I messed up my bait ratio and got skunked—total bummer. So this time, I went back to my tried-and-true formula, no fancy experiments:
- 3 parts 918 Field Battle Fishy Bait
- 3 parts Battle Blue Crucian Bait
- 2 parts Quick Attack 2#
- 2 parts Floating Fishing 2095
I added a bit of binder powder to make it sticky and set the water-to-bait ratio at roughly 0.9:1, creating a soft, malleable mix that holds up well in wind and rain. Once it was mixed, I stuffed it into a sealed container and hauled ass to the river—rain was picking up, and I didn’t want to waste any time.
My Heavy-Duty Gear Setup for Windy Conditions
When the wind’s howling, you need gear that can handle the elements. Here’s what I brought to the river that night:
- Rod: 5.4m Wushuang Li Gangjin—this thing has insane backbone and stiffness, perfect for casting into strong winds without the tip whipping around.
- Line Set: Fishing Home’s new 4# line with a swivel connector—super durable, no tangles even in gusts.
- Hooks: 1.5# leader line with 5# Iseama double hooks—sharp enough to set fast but strong enough for bigger fish.
- Float: Big Fish King ND-C09—easy to see in the dark and rain, even with waves on the water.
Settling In: My Rainy Night Fishing Spot
I arrived at the river to find a light, misty rain coating everything. I made a beeline for the round platform spot I love—specifically the left side of it, which is sheltered from the worst of the wind and has deep water that big fish love to hide in.
I set up my rod holder and got to work assembling my gear fast. By the time I was done, the two guys fishing next to me—one with a hand rod, one with a lure—were packing up to leave. I guess the rain and gusty wind got to them, but honestly? I was just getting started.
The water was over 4 meters deep, no current, but plenty of wind-driven waves. I set my float to 4 eyes visible when unweighted, then adjusted to 4 eyes with bait on—perfect for detecting bites through the chop. I cast my line out, settled into my spot, and waited.
The Bites Start (Even as the Wind Picks Up)
It didn’t take long for the first bite—maybe 20 minutes in? I was checking my phone to see if the typhoon warning had been upgraded, and when I looked up, my float was completely under the water. “Oh, hell yeah!” I yelled, yanking the rod up hard. The fish fought back a little, but it was small—some kind of minnow that I flipped onto the bank in seconds.
That first catch got me pumped. The rain was coming down a bit harder, and the wind was gusting, but suddenly none of that mattered. I looked out at the city through the rain, the lights blurry in the mist, and thought, “This is why I love fishing in weird weather—it feels like my own little secret world out here.”
Not long after, my float shot up suddenly. I set the hook and reeled in a small bream. It was tiny, so I gently tossed it back into the river—no need to keep the little guys, especially on a night like this when bigger fish might be lurking.
A few more anglers showed up later, moving from the deep water on the right to the shallower side of the platform. We chatted a bit over the sound of the wind, complaining about the rain and swapping stories about big ones that got away. Having a little company made the time fly, and before I knew it, I was reeling in another small fish—this one a plump little crucian carp.
The Netters Show Up (Ugh, Why?)
Just when I was getting into a rhythm, I heard it: the loud, sputtering roar of a small boat engine cutting through the quiet. I looked over, and sure enough, a group of netters was speeding up the river, heading for the water inlet downstream. If there’s one thing that ruins a fishing trip faster than a typhoon, it’s these guys.
The guy next to me grumbled, “Those idiots come three times a day—morning, noon, night. Doesn’t matter if it’s raining, windy, or even a typhoon warning. They just don’t care about anyone else.” I couldn’t agree more. They cast their huge nets across the water, then revved the engine to chase fish into them, sending big waves crashing against the bank and messing up every angler’s line setup.
I was ready to pack up and leave—nothing kills a bite like netters scaring every fish away. But then, right as the boat was zooming past, my float disappeared under the water again. I set the hook, and felt a solid, heavy tug. I reeled it in to find a bright yellow, spiky yellow catfish—one of my favorite catches! Suddenly, the netters didn’t seem so bad. If the fish were still biting despite their chaos, I wasn’t going anywhere.
The Final Bites (And My Windy Night Haul)
The netters finally left after what felt like an hour (but was probably 20 minutes), and the river settled back into its rainy quiet. My new fishing buddies packed up and left, saying they were too cold and damp to stay, but I was still going strong.
A little while later, my float dipped hard, and I felt a much heavier tug than before. I fought the fish for a minute, using the stiffness of my rod to tire it out, and reeled in a big black tilapia—one of the biggest I’ve caught in this river! I whooped out loud, even though no one was there to hear me. That fish alone made the cold rain and annoying netters worth it.
I cast a few more times, hoping for one last “good night” bite, and wasn’t disappointed: a small but feisty crucian carp took the bait, and I reeled it in with a grin. By then, my hands were numb from the cold, and my jacket was soaked through to the skin, so I decided it was time to call it a night.
I packed up my gear fast, tossed all my fish into a cooler, and hauled it to my car. On the drive home, I thought about the night: the wind, the rain, the annoying netters, and the string of solid catches I’d landed. It wasn’t the biggest haul I’d ever had, but it was one of the most satisfying.
Typhoon nights might not be for everyone, but for me? There’s something magical about being out on the river when the rest of the world is hunkered down. The fish are active, the quiet is almost eerie, and when you land a good catch despite the elements? It’s an unbeatable feeling. Just watch out for the netters—they’ll ruin even the best fishing night in a heartbeat.
