Introduction: The Morning Fishing Plan
Man, let me tell you—wild fishing is all about that raw, unpredictable energy, right? Everyone has their own take on what makes a “successful” session, but for me, it’s the thrill of the unknown, the natural chaos of the river, and the constant battle to outsmart those crafty fish. Last night, I hit the late bite at Qishui River’s upper reaches and landed a solid crucian carp. The fish were biting like crazy, so I thought, “Why not try the early morning bite tomorrow? That’s when the real magic happens!” Little did I know, the “magic” would turn into a frustrating mess.
First off, let’s talk about the “wild” part of wild fishing. It’s not just about catching fish—it’s about the environment, the fish’s behavior, and even the other anglers. Sometimes, you get a peaceful, serene spot; other times, you end up with rowdy folks who don’t know the meaning of sharing. But hey, that’s the beauty of it, too! You never know what you’re gonna get.
Last night’s late session was a win: I landed a nice crucian carp, and other anglers were catching limits too. That gave me the confidence to aim for the early morning bite—my first time ever trying that! I negotiated with my wife (okay, more like begged) to let me leave early. She finally agreed, and I was stoked. Morning sunrise + big crucian = perfect fishing day, right?
Setting Out: Eager for the Early Morning Bite
Time: 5:10 AM – 8:30 AM
Location: Upper reaches of Qishui River
Weather: Sunny
Rod: 5.4m Zhu Lu II
Bait: All-purpose fishy scent + rice wine
Hook: Size 5 Izu
Float: Yiyi reed float
Line: Main 2.0, Leader 0.8
Adjustment: 1-reed up, 2-reed down
I set my alarm for 5 AM, but I couldn’t sleep a wink! By 4:30 AM, I was up, pacing around. The sky was still pitch-black, but I was too excited. I brushed my teeth, packed my gear, and even prepared breakfast for my family (don’t tell them I prioritized fishing over sleep! 😄). The sky was starting to light up, so I grabbed my rod bag and headed out.
My home is near the Qishui River’s high village section, so the drive was quick—about 10 minutes. When I arrived, I was shocked: there were already 8-9 anglers there! Wow, these guys are serious. I’d assumed I’d get the prime spot, but nope—everyone’s chasing that morning bite. Some were even wading in the water, using 7.2m rods like they owned the place. I guess that’s what “wild” means: no rules, just grab whatever spot you can.
Arriving at the Spot: The Early Morning Scene
I scouted around for a good spot—one that wasn’t too shallow or too deep. The river was calm, the water clear, and the sunrise was painting the sky pink. I found a spot about 6 meters from the nearest angler, set up my gear, and started testing the water. First, I cast a few times to check for snags. No luck—wait, actually, I got lucky! No snags in the first 5 casts. That’s rare in wild fishing; usually, the river’s full of hidden rocks or weeds. I took a quick victory lap around my gear.
I mixed my bait: all-purpose fishy scent for the main hook, and a bit of rice wine to sweeten it. I wanted to cover both meaty and sweet flavors, just in case the crucians were feeling picky. Then I adjusted my float: 1-reed up, 2-reed down. Classic setup for crucians—they love those subtle movements. The sun was rising now, casting long shadows over the river. I was ready. Let the morning bite begin!
The Disappointing Bite: No Luck with Big Crucian Carp
Wait, let me rephrase that: I was ready… but the fish weren’t. For the first 40 minutes, nothing. Zilch. Nada. I checked my bait, re-tied my hook, even switched to a different float. Still crickets. Other anglers around me? Some were catching small fish, but no one was getting the big crucians. The left-side angler, a guy with a 7.2m rod, finally landed a half-pound crucian. I cheered him on, but my float stayed still. Ugh.
Then, out of nowhere, my float gave a tiny tap. Three times. Then it slowly rose—ding! I struck! A small crucian, maybe 3 ounces. I pulled it in, snapped a photo, and… that was it. Just one fish. And then, silence again. I tried everything: changed bait to all-live, cranked up the cast frequency, even tried using a different hook. Nothing. Then, a whitebait—big, like, “I’m a grandpa in the bait world” size—came in and ate my hook. I caught it, but that was the only other fish all morning.
At 8 AM, more anglers showed up. The water started getting crowded, and the bite just died. Then, one angler told me a scary story: “Last night, there were electric fishers here. They had flashlights, and they were zapping fish. Local guys, probably—no one else would dare.” Oh, that explains it! No wonder the fish weren’t biting. They were scared, or dead. That’s the worst part of wild fishing: other people ruining the spot for everyone else.
Run-Ins with Unscrupulous Behavior: The “Old Rascal” Incident
Just when I was about to call it quits, another problem arose. A guy, maybe 50-something, wearing a cap, set up right next to me—7.2m rod, same as the first angler. He dumped a huge pile of pellets into my casting zone. “I fished here yesterday and left a nest,” he said, but then he kept throwing more feed. “This is my spot,” he mumbled, not even looking up. My blood pressure rose—that’s the “old rascal” I’d heard about? He invaded my space, messed up my bait zone, and didn’t even apologize. Classic disrespectful angler move.
Let me be clear: I’ve been fishing long enough to know that sharing space is part of the game. But this guy didn’t just fish near me—he was on my spot. If he’d asked nicely, I might’ve moved, but he just dropped feed and acted like he owned the river. I’ve had enough. I’m not here to fight over a spot; I’m here to catch fish, not drama. So I packed up my gear, took one last look at the river, and headed home.
Conclusion: Calling It Quits and Heading Home
So, my first early morning wild fishing trip ended in frustration. I wanted that big crucian, I chased the sunrise, but I got nothing but a “goodbye” from the river and a rude angler. But hey, that’s wild fishing, right? It’s not always about the catch—it’s about the stories, the lessons, and the moments when you realize how unpredictable nature can be. I learned that not all spots are worth fighting over, and sometimes, you just have to walk away.
To all my fellow anglers: may your next trip be smooth, your bait be fresh, and your fish be bigger than expected. And to Fishing Home—keep the gear coming; we’ll always need reliable rods and hooks! Until next time, tight lines and good vibes, everyone! 🎣
