This Is a Serendipitous Encounter! Landing Big Carp & Crucian Carp After Early Morning Struggles

Let’s be real—how many times have you woken up at the crack of dawn, packed your fishing gear, and driven to your “secret spot” only to end up catching nothing but tiny, annoying fish? I’ve been there way too often lately. For weeks, I’ve been chasing that golden autumn big fish bite everyone talks about, but every trip turned into a disaster: sunburned, frustrated, and going home empty-handed (or with a bucket full of nothing but “finger nail” tilapia). But today? Today was different. This wasn’t just a fishing trip—it was a serendipitous encounter with the big ones I’ve been craving. Let me break down every chaotic, exciting minute.

The Pre-Dawn Grind: Chasing the “Early Bird” Bite

Let’s start with the struggle to even get to the water. I set my alarm for 4:30 AM—yes, 4:30—because all the fishing forums swear the best bites happen before the sun peeks over the trees. I threw on my old fishing jacket (the one that smells like lake water and old bait), grabbed my gear, and hit the road. The sky was still pitch black, stars still twinkling, and I was already yawning. But hey, no pain no gain, right?

My Setup: Rods, Reels, and a Last-Minute Bait Mix

Before I even cast a line, I wanted to make sure my gear was dialed in. Here’s what I brought to the fight:

• Rod: Jien Shangqing Carp 4.5m (my go-to for medium to big fish—light enough to feel the bite, strong enough to fight a runner)
• Line: Main line 2.5, subline 1.2 (I later regretted this—more on that later)
• Hook: Iseama No. 4 (sharp, reliable, perfect for carp and crucian carp)
• Floater: Big Fish King NM05-2# with 1.5g buoyancy (I set it to “five adjust, two or three catch” — that’s the sweet spot for bottom feeding fish)
• Bait: I mixed Hua’s Yiwei Carp bait with Wuliang You Xiangxing (1:0.5 ratio) and added water at 1:1.5. Let it soak for 10 minutes until it was fluffy—no clumps, just the right consistency to stick to the hook but dissolve slowly in the water.

I found a spot right by a grass hole—those are always good because fish love hiding in the vegetation. The water was about 1.3 meters deep, which is perfect for carp this time of year. I thought, “This is it. Today’s the day.”

The Early Morning Disaster: Fish Floating, Floater Dead

Wrong. So wrong. I cast my line, waited… and waited… and waited. My floater was like a statue—no twitch, no movement, nothing. I looked around and realized: all the fish were floating at the surface, gasping for air. Ugh, that’s the worst! When fish are floating, they’re not feeding—they’re just trying to breathe. I cast again, reeled in, cast again… same result. After 30 minutes of nothing, I was this close to packing up. But then I remembered: my fishing buddy (let’s call him Dave) was supposed to meet me. So I called him up and said, “Dude, get here. I’m bored out of my mind. The fish are dead.”

An Hour of Chaos: Cleano Fish, Tiny Tilapia, and a Surprise Runner

Dave showed up around 6:30 AM, and by then, I’d been sitting there for an hour. Just as he sat down, my floater finally twitched. “Oh! Finally!” I yelled, yanking the rod up. The line went tight, but the fish felt… weird. It was heavy, but not in a good way. I reeled it in, and sure enough—cleano fish (those ugly, bottom-feeding trash fish that steal bait and ruin your day). Ugh, I threw it back immediately. “Great start,” Dave laughed.

Ten minutes later, another bite. This time, it was a tiny tilapia—barely bigger than my thumb. “Finger nail tilapia again,” I groaned. Dave was still struggling too; he set up right next to me but didn’t cast near the grass hole, so he was getting swarmed by baby fish. “Your spot sucks,” he joked. I flipped him off.

The Wind Picks Up: Finally, a Glimmer of Hope

Then, around 7 AM, the wind started blowing. Thank goodness! The air cooled down, and the fish stopped floating. They started moving back down to the bottom, looking for food. That’s when the bites started happening—fast and furious. First, I got a small crucian carp. Then a tilapia. Then… a mullet? Wait, mullet? I don’t usually catch mullet here, but hey, I’ll take it. The fight was fun—they’re fast little guys.

Dave, on the other hand, was still struggling. He was getting nothing but tiny fish. “You should move to the grass hole,” I told him. But he’s stubborn. Instead, he grabbed his old jar of “lao tan za liang” (fermented grain bait) and threw a handful into the water to make a new spot. “I’m targeting carp,” he said. “No more tiny fish.”

The Big One: Dave Lands a Beauty, Then I Do Too

Thirty minutes later, Dave’s floater slammed down. “WHOA!” he yelled, yanking his rod up. The line screamed, and his rod bent almost in half. “That’s a carp!” I shouted. He fought it for a minute—running left, running right, jumping out of the water once. Finally, he reeled it in: a beautiful, golden carp, about 2 pounds. “Told you,” he grinned. I was jealous.

So I decided to switch my bait too. I put lao tan za liang on my hook—one hook with wheat, one with corn. Let’s see if that works. For 20 minutes, nothing. Then, just as I was about to check my bait, my floater twitched… then blacked out (sank completely). I counted to three (you always wait a second to make sure the fish has the bait in its mouth) and pulled up. BOOM! The line screamed, and my rod bent so far I thought it might break. “That’s a big one!” I yelled. Dave jumped up to help, but I waved him off—I wanted to fight this one alone.

The fish was a fighter. It ran towards the grass hole twice, trying to get tangled in the weeds. I had to reel fast and pull hard to keep it away. It jumped out of the water once, and I saw how big it was—probably 3 pounds, maybe more. After a minute of tug-of-war, I finally reeled it in. “YES!” I screamed. It was a huge carp, shiny and healthy. That’s the one I’ve been chasing for weeks!

The Cost of Victory: Broken Lines and Lost Fish

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. I lost a few fish too—one that dragged my line into the grass and broke it, another that snapped my 1.2 subline mid-fight. I quickly switched to 1.5 subline after that—lesson learned. Don’t skimp on the subline when you’re chasing big fish. Dave lost one too—his line broke when a carp ran towards a tree. “Stupid tree,” he muttered.

Wrapping Up: The Best Fishing Trip in Months

We fished until 3 PM—we had to leave because Dave had work. But before we packed up, I caught one more big crucian carp, and Dave caught a small carp. It wasn’t a ton of fish, but it was the quality that mattered. For the first time in months, I didn’t go home empty-handed. I didn’t just catch tiny tilapia. I caught the big ones—carp, crucian carp, even a mullet. That’s the magic of wild fishing, right? You never know what’s going to bite next. It’s not about catching a hundred tiny fish; it’s about that one big bite that makes all the early mornings and frustrations worth it.

As we drove home, I was tired—my arms ached from fighting the big carp, my back was sore from sitting in the same spot for hours—but I was happy. That’s the thing about fishing: it’s not just a hobby. It’s a way to escape the noise, to be outside, to feel that rush when you feel a bite. And today? Today was a serendipitous encounter—one I’ll remember for a long time.

To all my fishing buddies out there: don’t give up. Even if you’ve had a streak of bad trips, even if you’re catching nothing but tiny fish, keep going. The next bite could be the big one. Stay patient, stay prepared, and tight lines!