Post-Typhoon Fishing: Why I Couldn’t Resist a Quick Recon Trip
Let me tell you—typhoon season here is no joke. One minute it’s pouring buckets, the next the sun’s blaring like it’s trying to make up for lost time. Last week, after a big storm blew through, the temperatures spiked so fast I swear my car thermometer hit 30°C by 9 AM. I’d just finished a night shift (yep, night shift fishing prep is a vibe) and was driving home when I thought, “Wait a second—this weather’s too good to waste.”
See, I’ve been on a mission lately: find new wild fishing spots before the really hot weather kills the bite. A guy I met a while back (let’s call him “Ex-Electrician Dave”) used to… well, let’s just say he knew all the off-the-beaten-path streams. But here’s the tea: he quit his old “job” after the government cracked down hard on illegal fishing. Now he’s a fellow angler—small wins, right? He tipped me off to two spots, and I’d checked one already (total bust during the drought—reverse current, only tiny silverfish). Today? I was hitting the second.
The Great “Where Is This Stream?” Scavenger Hunt
Ex-Electrician Dave’s directions were… let’s say “colorful.” “Turn left at the old mango tree, then walk 10 minutes past the water buffalo shed.” Yeah, real precise. I drove around for 4 minutes (yes, I counted) before spotting a rickety wooden bridge over a super narrow stream. Finally! I parked my bike (don’t judge—tricycle’s too big for these backroads) and scrambled down to the bank.
First glance? Wow. The water was clear enough to see tiny fish darting around—wait, were those big silverfish? (Later I’d learn they’re Zacco platypus, but whatever—they looked fun to catch.) The banks were covered in water hyacinths, and there were patches of rotting water chestnut vines that left perfect little open spots for casting. Score. Short rods only here—2.7-inch (wait, no, 2.7m—sorry, metric brain fart) rods were made for this.
Wait—Did I Just See a Giant Bitterling?
I was just taking photos for my fishing log (yes, I’m that nerd) when I spotted something weird in the shallow water near the bridge. It was a bitterling—wait, no, giant bitterling. Like, the size of my palm! Bitterlings usually max out at a few inches, but this one had bright orange fins and a body so thick it looked like a baby bream. That’s when I thought: “If there are big bitterlings here, this stream’s got good resources.” Bitterlings are super sensitive to pollution—if they’re thriving, the water’s clean, and there’s enough food for bigger fish too.
I took a quick pic (sorry, no net yet—just recon) and thought, “Screw napping—let’s grab my gear and come back this afternoon.” Big mistake. I was so excited I forgot my float back at home. Cue 3-minute round trip to grab it. Ugh—fishing brain farts are the worst.
Afternoon Fishing: Why I Should’ve Checked My Float First
By the time I got back, it was almost 4 PM. I grabbed my gear: a 2.7m “Twin Carp” rod (super light—perfect for short casts), 1.0 mainline, 0.4 leader, size 1 hook, and some old frozen bait I’d dug out of the fridge that morning. (Pro tip: frozen bait for silverfish? Just defrost, knead a bit—no fancy mixes needed.)
I set up near the bridge first. Water depth? Maybe 50cm. Cast out, and—whoa—current! The stream was moving fast enough to drag my float sideways. I tried casting upstream and letting it drift, but the silverfish were tiny—like, see-through tiny. I caught one, took a pic, and let it go (too small to keep). After 20 minutes of no fun, I moved.
The Secret Spot: Bitterling Bonanza
I walked a bit downstream to a small dam outlet. The water there was slow—almost still—with a big patch of water hyacinths on the edge. Perfect hiding spot for fish. I set up again, cast out, and within 5 minutes—bam—a bite! I lifted the rod, and… a small bitterling. Bright colors, cute little guy. Let him go.
Next cast? Another bite—this time, a fish I didn’t recognize. Thick body, dark scales, looked like a baby perch. Took a pic, let it go (still no idea what it was). Then—black float! I lifted the rod, and this time, the fight was real. I thought, “Finally—a bream!” But when I pulled it up? Another giant bitterling. This one was longer than the first, with iridescent blue-green scales. I held it up to my phone—camera roll’s now full of bitterling pics. Oops.
Then—another bite! Another giant bitterling! I was laughing so hard. Who knew a tiny stream had these monsters? I even considered keeping one for a tank, but bitterlings need super clean water and lots of oxygen—my tank’s not up to snuff. So back they went.
Lessons Learned (And Why Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Better)
Let’s be real—today was a mess. I forgot my float, the current messed up my first spot, and I only caught bitterlings (and tiny silverfish). But here’s the thing: that giant bitterling? That’s a sign. This stream’s got potential. Here’s what I’m changing for tomorrow:
- Wear rubber boots—those dam banks are slippery, and I almost face-planted twice.
- Bring a proper float for current—my cheap one was useless.
- Try traditional float fishing for bottom fish—who knows? Maybe there’s crucian carp hiding in the reeds.
Oh, and I took a pic of the downstream part—full of water chestnut vines. Winter fishing there? Game. On. Those vines make perfect hiding spots for carp when the water’s cold.
Final Thoughts: Why Wild Fishing’s Worth the Chaos
I packed up as the sun started to set. My bucket was empty (I released everything), but my phone was full of pics, and my brain was buzzing with plans. That’s the thing about wild fishing—you don’t do it for the catch. You do it for the hunt, the surprises, and the moments where you think, “Wait—this tiny stream has giant bitterlings?”
Tomorrow morning? I’m back. Early. With rubber boots, a better float, and maybe a small net (just in case). Fingers crossed for a crucian carp— but even if I just catch more giant bitterlings? I’ll be happy. This spot’s a gem, and I can’t wait to see what else it’s hiding.
Have you ever found a hidden fishing spot that surprised you? Drop a comment below— I’d love to hear your weirdest catch stories. Until next time, tight lines!
