2024 Fishing Diary 39: Two Masters Broke Rods While Catching Black Carp at Mountain Villa

May 20th dawned bright, and I was hyped for a day at a fancy mountain villa fishing spot—way out in the countryside, far from the city chaos. My buddy Old Jia and I rolled up first in his car, while Jiang Xing (another fishing pal) and a Mr. Zhang were still en route. The gatekeeper let us in, and holy smokes, this place was stunning.

Rockeries, winding corridors, a stone arch bridge. Red maples, willows, camphors, boxwoods… and then the fish ponds! Each was cement-walled with railings, dedicated fishing platforms, and huge sun umbrellas. Total luxury for casual anglers. I snapped a pic right away to capture the vibe:

First Stop: Grass Carp? Wait, No—Black Carp!

Old Jia’s plan was simple: “Catch a couple grass carp to warm up, then hit the bream pond.” But when we checked the ponds, every one had different fish—they were categorized! I spotted two cleaning ladies with fresh-cut grass in their cart. “Can I grab some?” I asked. “Sure!” one said. “There’s more by the east gate trash can if you need.” I tied three bundles—grass carp love this stuff, right? Chum with grass, fish float up to eat, then fish the top. Works every time… or so I thought.

Before I even tied my line, Old Jia cast his rod. Three minutes later, his float twitched. He jerked the rod—strike! A huge fish thrashed the water, tail slapping so loud it echoed. “This is easy!” he yelled. Wait, that’s not grass carp. An employee came over to net it: “That’s a black carp (snail carp)! They only go crazy for snails—though they’ll eat feed too.” Ugh, my grass bundles were useless! Total waste of 10 minutes tying them up. Old Jia was already on his third cast, so I stopped watching his show and got to work.

My Gear: Prepared for Big Fish

I came ready for battle: 6lb line, 6m rod, size 14 and 12 Iseama double hooks, and my trusty Guangwei White Shark 12m rod. My bait? Wheat flour dough mixed with white wine and a dash of ethyl maltol—you know, that “Xianghu” stuff online? But mine was 99.99% pure (shoutout to my kid who snagged it from her university lab; online stuff is max 50% pure and overpriced). I was confident this would work.

Cast out. Three minutes later, my float quivered then sank. I jerked the rod—whoa, heavy! The fish fought hard, refusing to surface or show itself. I held the rod at 45 degrees, letting it tire itself out. After two minutes, its strength faded. I reeled in, and up popped another black carp—bigger than Old Jia’s first one! I snapped a pic with my left hand:

That Guangwei rod was a beast. When the fish pulled line, it bowed but held; when I reeled, it had perfect backbone. No scares, just smooth fights. The employee netted it—both hooks were in its mouth! “This fish was starving!” I thought. One hook through the upper lip, one through the palate. No escape there.

“You think this is easy?” the employee laughed. “Some people come all day and catch nothing.” Old Jia yelled over: “Let’s get one more so everyone has a fish when the others arrive!” No surprise—three minutes later, another black carp hit. This one was feisty, maybe a male? I held firm, used the right technique, and after three rounds, it gave up. Just then—CRACK!

First Broken Rod: Old Jia’s “Cheap” Rod Fails

Old Jia’s rod snapped right above the middle! He’d caught his second black carp, fought it less than a minute, and boom—rod in two pieces. He tossed the broken half, grabbed the thin front section, and kept fighting. The hook was deep, so the fish stayed. With the employee’s help, he netted it. “Broke my rod,” he said, grinning like an idiot.

“You knew we’d catch big fish and brought a junk rod?!” I teased. “My good rods are too expensive to break!” he shrugged. “This one’s cheap—no tears if it snaps.” Typical Old Jia, always being a cheapskate. “I brought my best two rods,” I said. “If this Guangwei fails, my Falai Tianmo’s going in.” I snapped a pic of my gear:

Second Stop: Bream Pond—Mixed Results

We moved to the bream pond. Behind it was a rockery with big trees casting shade. Only one west-facing platform, so Old Jia grabbed it. I stood by the north side, behind the marble railing, and an employee handed me a plastic stool to sit on. Old Jia cast immediately—boom, big bream on the first try! Me? Nada. Not even a tiny bream.

I snapped a pic of Old Jia and the crew that arrived:

Jiang Xing rolled up with Mr. Zhang (who drove a white Benz—fancy!). Jiang said his friend was treating us to lunch and fishing, so he brought Old Jia and me. The employee gave Mr. Zhang a rod, pre-tied line, and bait. She pinched a dough ball, cast, and started fishing next to me. Jiang went to the black carp pond but came back 10 minutes later: “My hook got snagged and broke. You got extra line?” I grabbed a spool—6lb line, size 14/12 hooks, hand-tied by me. “This stuff’s tough—rod breaks before line or hook,” I warned. “Fight slow.”

Mr. Zhang struck first! A big crucian carp—8 or 9 ounces. She cheered like she won the lottery! Old Jia was catching crucians too (this pond was bream-crucian mixed). Me? My float was a dead stick. I tried earthworms—nothing. Tried my dough—zilch. The young employee (this pond’s staff) felt bad: “Try our feed dough. Fish are used to it.” Mr. Zhang said that’s what she used. I swapped, but the dough was too soft—fell off the hook when I cast. I mixed in some flour to stiffen it. Cast again… float sank! But I missed it.

“If you’re hungry, I’ll catch you,” I muttered. Finally—strike! A 1-pound crucian carp. I snapped a pic:

Jiang Xing’s Turn to Break a Rod

Just then, a CRACK echoed from the north pond (across the road). The employee jumped up: “Rod broke!” He ran over, then came back: “That’s your buddy, right? His rod snapped, fish got away.” Jiang Xing broke a rod! Classic—“Only masters break rods; novices keep theirs intact” (my new fishing motto). He swapped rods, caught two more black carp, then called it quits.

Mr. Zhang kept catching—cheering every time. The employee laughed: “She’s gonna get hooked on fishing soon.” He was right—fishing addiction sneaks up on you. I tried earthworms again (no way a fish ignores worms!) and caught two. Tried my dough—two more. Tried the villa’s dough—two. Total six crucians. I was done.

I snapped pics of my haul:

Lunch Time: Dividing the Haul

We packed up at 12, headed to the villa restaurant. All our fish were gathered, divided into six bags (one per person). I snapped a pic of my bag—10 pounds total:

Over lunch, we laughed about Old Jia and Jiang Xing breaking rods. Jiang Xing said his rod was “a gift from a friend”—total lie, he just didn’t want to admit he brought a cheap one too. Old Jia kept bragging about his “smart” choice to use a junk rod. Me? I was just happy my Guangwei held up—no way I’d break my good gear.

As we drove back, Old Jia already planned our next trip: “Let’s hit the reservoir next month. I’ll bring my good rod this time—promise!” Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when I see it. But hey, even with broken rods and useless grass chum, it was a perfect day. Sun, fish, buddies—what more could you ask for?