April 26: A Picture-Perfect Start to Chengzi Lake Fishing
The sun had just peeked over the horizon when we pulled up to Chengzi Lake, and let me tell you, the weather couldn’t have been better. Not a cloud in the sky, the sun blazing down without a single obstruction, and zero wind— the lake was so calm it mirrored the sky like a giant, glassy mirror. We were already hyped, and that quiet, still lake only cranked up the excitement.
Choosing Our Fishing Spot: Ditching the Crowds for Untapped Waters
My nephew Xia was at the helm of the big floating platform, shuttling us out onto the lake. First, he dropped off Lao Jia and Lao Jiang at a half-submerged concrete barge about 100 meters from shore— that spot could fit three anglers for tackle fishing, or two who wanted to switch between tackle and traditional rod methods. Then Xia turned to me and said, “Uncle, I’ll take you around first. Pick any spot you want— I trust your call, you’re the seasoned pro here.”
We cruised past a dirt ridge where we’d seen anglers the day before, but I shook my head. “Nah, everyone fishes there. Let’s find a spot no one’s touched yet.” I pointed toward a cluster of reeds to the south, and Xia veered over immediately.
That reed patch sat on old aquaculture stake foundations, so the water was a bit shallower and the bottom was higher. To the south was open lake, and to the north was a former fish pond reclaimed by the lake, where clumps of tender, floating grass were popping up through the surface. This grass looked like blanched seaweed— thin, wispy stems, delicate willow-like leaves, and super soft texture. It was leftover from crab farmers who planted it years ago; crabs eat it and use it to molt on, and fish go crazy for it too, especially in late spring when it’s fresh and tender. It’s like a fish magnet— draws them in and keeps them hanging around.
I told Xia to nudge us a little west where the grass was thicker, and that’s where we dropped anchor for the day.
Setting Up Shop: Rigging and Waiting for the Bite
Xia set up two heavy bait nests in the grass holes to the north, while I did two nests in the grass holes to my left, plus two more in the open lake to the south— one close to the reeds, one further out. The deep open-water nest was about 1.2-1.3 meters deep, and the shallow one near the reeds was around a meter deep.
While we waited for the fish to find the bait, Xia and I started reminiscing. He talked about how my mom, his great-aunt, used to spoil him when he was a kid— whenever his dad yelled at him for being too rowdy, he’d bolt over to our house for protection and snacks. I brought up his elementary school days when I was a local village teacher, and let me tell you, that kid had so many chaotic, laugh-out-loud stories. We joked about his old antics until we were both cackling, and our laughter scared up a flock of ducks floating nearby.
It hit me then— Xia’s in his 50s now, and I’m in my 7th year of retirement. When I was younger, poems about time flying by always felt like over-the-top drama, but now? I get it. Decades really do flash by in the blink of an eye. Xia even joked, “Uncle, I’ve got two grandsons now— stop bringing up my potty-training days!” We laughed so hard our sides hurt.
First Bites: Open Water vs. Grass Holes
After about 30 minutes, I picked up my rod to start fishing. The grass holes to the north were dead quiet, but the open-water nests to the south? They were firing on all cylinders.
The deep open-water nest had nonstop bites right from the first cast. The shallow nest near the reeds? Only one small crucian carp, maybe 100 grams, and then nothing. I abandoned that spot pretty quick.
At first, it was all small fish, but after 20 minutes or so, the little guys cleared out and the bigger crucians started moving in. I was using a vertical float with two hooks— I’ve mostly been using single hook rigs for grass fishing since late fall, but the open water and clear grass holes made two hooks perfect. One hook had red worms, the other had earthworms. Guess which one the fish loved? The earthworms, no contest. The red worms didn’t get a single bite! So I switched both hooks to earthworms— easier to rig anyway, and if that’s what the fish wanted, I was happy to oblige.
The fish I caught here were bigger than the ones from the day before, and I even landed a few nice plate-sized crucians. I texted Lao Jia to ask how he was doing, and he replied with a cheeky message: “Already caught a few big plate crucians each!” I believed him at first— turns out he was lying through his teeth. He had some bites, but no big ones.
I noticed some fish spawning in the grass to the north— they were thrashing around the grass heads from sunrise until 8 a.m. Xia, who was fishing facing north, said, “Wait until the sun warms the water up, they’ll sink down and we’ll start catching them there.” He wasn’t wrong. About 90 minutes later, the grass holes to the north finally started getting bites— both of us were hooking fish left and right.
Even better, the fish in the grass holes were bigger— way bigger— than the ones in the open water. The bites weren’t constant, but we didn’t have to wait too long between catches. I was stoked; this spot was turning out to be way better than I even hoped.
Midday Shift: Rotating Spots and Windy Surprises
By mid-morning, the lake was getting crowded. I looked toward the dirt ridge to the east, and it was packed with anglers— three guys even had chest waders on, standing waist-deep in the cold water! Let me tell you, that’s a terrible idea. The water’s still ice-cold in late April, and standing in that for hours will give you lifelong joint problems. Not worth it for a few fish, in my book.
At 11 a.m., I set up a new open-water nest to the south, in the 2 o’clock direction. My first left-side nest had a good run of 10+ back-to-back bites, then slowed down, so I let it rest and switched to the north grass holes. Rotating between the two spots kept the bites coming steadily.
Xia’s two heavy bait nests were still going strong, no need to refresh them. He kept raving about the spot: “I haven’t caught big plate crucians in ages— I always fished the reed patches, but I never knew this grass had so many fish hiding in it. I’m coming back here tomorrow. You in?” I shook my head. “I’ve fished two days straight, my back’s killing me. I’m taking tomorrow off.”
At noon, we took a break to eat and refresh the bait nests. Three of my four nests were still producing, so I added a small amount of bait to each. Xia refreshed one of his existing nests and set up a new one.
After lunch, I hit up the new 2 o’clock nest I’d set up at 11 a.m., and it was on fire— another 10+ back-to-back bites. We were on cloud nine, until the wind hit.
Afternoon Wind: Chaos and Double Hook-Ups
By 2 p.m., a southwest wind picked out of nowhere. My phone said it was only 3 meters per second (about 3 on the Beaufort scale), but on a wide, open lake with zero cover? That feels like 4. And let me tell you, fishing on a floating platform in 4-level wind is no fun. The lake went from glassy to choppy, with waves slapping against the platform and making it rock back and forth. The open-water nest that was just biting nonstop? Dead silent. I had to swap out my small, light float for a big one with heavy lead just to keep it stable in the waves.
But here’s the funny thing— fishing facing north, with the wind at my back, the grass holes started biting like crazy. Even better, I started getting double hook-ups! I haven’t caught two fish at once in months, since I mostly use single hook rigs for grass fishing. It was so satisfying, reeling in two decent-sized crucians at a time.
One double hook-up even had two fish that weighed over 250 grams combined! Xia was getting double hook-ups too— we were both yelling and laughing every time it happened.
The waves got so big on the south side that water was splashing onto the platform, but the big floating platform held steady. Facing north, I even landed a huge plate crucian that weighed over 250 grams— when it bit, I could feel the weight immediately, so I didn’t yank the rod. I let it tire itself out a little before slowly pulling it up to the platform, and sure enough, it was a beauty.
Wrapping Up: Near-Miss to a Full Cooler
At 3:40 p.m., I decided to catch one last fish to wrap up, and sure enough, I hooked a nice crucian on my first cast. Perfect way to end the day.
Lao Jiang ended up with 2.8 kg of fish, mostly nice plate crucians. Lao Jia? He’d been swarmed by tiny crucian fry all day, releasing almost every small fish he caught— no big ones for him, just a lot of tiny bites. I ended up with 4.7 kg of fish, and Xia had 4.4 kg— his catch was just as big as mine, he just had a little less total weight.
Before we packed up, we made sure to collect all our trash— plastic bags, bait containers, everything. No leaving messes in such a beautiful spot, right?
On the ride back to shore, my arms were sore, my back was aching, but I couldn’t stop smiling. We came so close to filling both coolers completely— if the wind hadn’t picked up, I know we would have. If you’re heading to Chengzi Lake, skip the crowded dirt ridge and hunt for those old aquaculture grass patches. The fish are bigger, the bites are steady, and you’ll avoid the chaos of other anglers. Just don’t forget to check the wind forecast— a calm morning can turn into a windy afternoon real quick out on that open lake!
