Night Fishing at Luzhi Lake: No Keepnet, All Fish Photographed and Released

Let me tell you—fishing isn’t just a hobby for me; it’s my escape from the chaos of daily life. There’s something about sitting by the water, waiting for that first bite, that makes every stress melt away. And as we edge closer to the Autumn Equinox, the weather’s getting cooler, which means prime fishing season is here. I’ve been itching to hit the water, so when a free night popped up, I grabbed my gear and headed to Luzhi Lake—little did I know the adventure (and mishap) that awaited me!

My Setup for the Night: Gear, Bait, and Expectations

First things first: I packed my go-to gear for night fishing. Here’s what I brought:

• Rod: 4.5m Zhulu·Crucian Carp rod (light, flexible, perfect for feeling bites)
• Line: 1.2 main line, 0.8 fluorocarbon subline (thin enough for sensitivity, strong enough for bigger fish)
• Hook: Size 5 Iseni hooks (I went a bit big hoping for carp, grass carp, or silver carp)
• Bait: Xiao Lanji (a popular commercial bait) mixed with rice wine (the locals swear by this combo!)
• Method: Taiwanese float fishing (my favorite—super responsive to bites)

Weather check: 18°C (64°F) with a light breeze—ideal for night fishing, no sweltering heat to deal with. I set up around 7 PM, just as the sun dipped below the trees, and adjusted my float to fish 4 eyes (that’s 4 inches, for you non-anglers). I went a bit “dull” with the float (meaning less sensitive) because night bites can be slower, and I didn’t want to miss a big one.

The First Bite: That Rush of Excitement

It didn’t take long—maybe 20 minutes—before my float twitched. Then, it lifted a full 1 eye! I grabbed the rod, set the hook hard (you’ve got to make sure that hook sinks in!), and felt the fish fight back. The pull through the rod was *chef’s kiss*—that’s the feeling I live for. All the waiting, all the day’s stress—gone in an instant.

I took my time reeling it in, savoring every second. This wasn’t a race; it was about the experience. The fish darted left, then right, then tried to dive into the deep water—classic carp move. I kept the rod tip up, applied steady pressure, and slowly worked it toward the shore. When I saw it break the surface, my heart skipped a beat: a half-pound crucian carp! Not huge, but perfect for a night’s catch.

Oops… No Keepnet? Let’s Adapt!

As I reached for my keepnet (the net we use to hold fish until we’re done), my stomach dropped. *I forgot it.* How could I? I’d been planning this trip for days! For a second, I panicked—what do I do with the fish now? I couldn’t leave it in the bucket (it would die), and I didn’t want to let it go without a photo (duh, bragging rights!).

Quick decision: photograph and release immediately. I grabbed my phone, snapped a few shots (one with the float, one with the rod, one close-up of the fish’s scales—gotta get that Instagram-worthy pic!), then gently lowered it back into the water. It swam away like nothing happened, and I let out a sigh of relief. Okay, so no keepnet—this trip would be about memories, not a cooler full of fish.

More Bites, More Releases: The Joy of Catch-and-Release

Turns out, forgetting the keepnet was a happy accident. It made me slow down and appreciate each fish more. The next bite came an hour later—another crucian carp, same size. I repeated the process: hook set, fight, photo, release. Each time, I noticed little details: the way the water glistened on their scales, the way they kicked their tails as they swam away. It felt more intentional, more connected to the water.

Then, around 10 PM, the float shot down—*fast*. I set the hook, and this time, the fight was different. It pulled harder, faster. I thought, “Finally—maybe a big carp!” I reeled, it pulled, we danced for a good 5 minutes. When I got it to the shore, I laughed out loud: another half-pound carp! Wait, why did it fight so hard? Oh, probably because I was using a size 5 hook on a small fish—talk about overkill!

I snapped a pic (this one’s my favorite—you can see the rod bending in the background) and let it go. As it swam away, I thought: this is what fishing should be about. Not keeping every fish, but enjoying the moment, the fight, the connection to nature.

Why Catch-and-Release Matters (Even If You Forgetting Your Keepnet)

Okay, I know some anglers swear by keeping their catch, and that’s fine—if you’re going to eat it. But for me, especially at Luzhi Lake, catch-and-release is non-negotiable. Here’s why:

• Conservation: Lakes like Luzhi have limited fish populations; releasing keeps the ecosystem balanced.
• Future Fishing: The more fish we release, the more there are for us (and others) to catch later.
• Joy: There’s something magical about watching a fish swim away healthy. It’s not just about the catch—it’s about the *experience*.

And hey, even if you forget your keepnet (like me), catch-and-release is always an option. Just make sure you handle the fish gently: wet your hands before touching them (dry hands damage their slime coat), don’t squeeze them, and release them quickly.

Wrap-Up: A Night I Won’t Forget

By 11 PM, the bites slowed down, and I started packing up. I didn’t have a cooler full of fish, but I had something better: 5 photos of happy, healthy fish, a head full of memories, and a huge smile on my face. That’s the thing about fishing—you never know what’s going to happen. Sometimes, the best trips are the ones where things go wrong (like forgetting your keepnet) because they make you adapt, slow down, and appreciate the little things.

To all my fellow anglers: next time you hit the water, try catch-and-release, even if you have a keepnet. And if you forget your gear? No stress—just roll with it. The best fishing trips aren’t about the number of fish you catch; they’re about the moments you share with the water, the fish, and yourself.

Until next time—tight lines, and may your floats always twitch, and your fish always swim away healthy! �