Wild Fishing: Endless Possibilities & Encounters with Tiny “Imperial Soldiers” (A Solo Angler’s Diary)

Okay, let’s cut to the chase—Saturday started with a weather forecast that promised “cloudy to overcast,” but Mother Nature had other plans. By 9 AM, it was drizzling like crazy, and I was this close to ditching my fishing trip entirely. But hey, us anglers are a stubborn bunch, right? After lunch, the sky finally cleared up, and I thought, “What the hell, let’s go!” Grabbed my gear, stuffed some live worms in a container (don’t judge—they’re bass catnip), and hit the road solo. My buddies? One was stuck at work, the other bailed last minute. So it was just me, my rod, and the great unknown. And let me tell you—solo fishing? They say it’s where the big ones bite. Spoiler: The big ones didn’t bite… but the tiny “imperial soldiers” did. Let’s dive in.

Setting the Scene: Where, When, & What I Brought

First, let’s get the logistics out of the way—because any angler worth their salt knows the details make or break a trip:

• Date: September 17, 2024
• Weather: Cloudy → sun peeked through later (typical moody sky)
• Spot: Yongquan Village (a tiny riverside spot I’ve been eyeing for months)
• Rod: Shenji 4.5m (my go-to for medium-sized rivers—light enough for finesse, strong enough for surprises)
• Line Setup: 1.5lb main line + 1.0lb fluorocarbon leader (balanced for smallmouth bass and panfish)
• Float: Xiaofengxian 2.2g (sits nice in 2-3m deep water, easy to read)
• Bait: Live worms + “All-in-One” (a local brand—smells like fish food, so I figured it’d work)
• Target: Wild carp (duh—who doesn’t want a big carp tug-of-war?) and bass
• Hook: Size 3 sleeve hook (small enough for finicky bites, strong enough for surprise fighters)

The river at Yongquan Village? Gorgeous. Even if I’d gone home empty-handed, just being there was worth it. The air smelled like wet dirt and pine, the water was crystal clear (well, as clear as a wild river gets), and the trees were starting to turn that golden-green for fall. I walked along the bank, passed a few other anglers—all muttering about “no bites”—and found a quiet spot tucked between two willows. Perfect. No one to bother me, no one to judge if I messed up. “I’ll catch my fish, and let the others catch… well, nothing,” I thought (total angler ego, I know).

First Cast: The “Imperial Soldiers” Make Their Debut

I set up my float, adjusted it to “flat water, 2 eyes” (that’s my go-to—lets the bait sit just off the bottom where carp love to munch). Tossed two handfuls of rice wine bait (to get the fish excited) and hooked a worm. First cast? Boom. The float twitched, then darted under like a rocket. I set the hook, and—wait, that’s not a carp. It was a tiny yellow catfish (locals call ’em “imperial soldiers” because of their golden color and feisty attitude). Seriously? I thought. This little guy fought like he was twice his size—twisting, pulling, even trying to hide under a rock. I laughed so hard I almost dropped my rod. “Okay, little soldier,” I said, unhooking him. “You’re cute, but I’m here for the big guys.”

But guess what? He wasn’t alone. Two more casts, two more “imperial soldiers.” Same size, same feisty attitude. I swear, I thought the first one came back for round two—same golden belly, same little whiskers. Did I just catch the same fish twice? That’s the kind of weird stuff that happens when you’re solo fishing. No one to confirm, so I just shrugged and kept going. The river was full of them—little guys fighting like champs, even though they were smaller than my palm.

The Great Minnow Invasion: Why I Switched Tactics

After the third “imperial soldier,” the minnows showed up. And not just a few—hundreds. Every cast, the float would dance like it was at a rave—tiny twitches, quick darts, nothing that felt like a real bite. I tried switching to the “All-in-One” bait? Nope. The minnows swarmed it before it even hit the bottom. I tried heavier weights to get it down faster? They still found it. I even tried hooking a single grain of corn? Nope. The minnows were on a mission to ruin my day. “Ugh, you little pests!” I muttered, reeling in for the 10th time. “Can’t a guy catch a real fish around here?”

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I grabbed a bigger float (a 3.5g one) and tied on a heavier sinker (5g) to get the bait straight to the bottom—no detours for minnows. I also switched to a small hook (size 2) and a tiny piece of worm. That did the trick… for 5 seconds. Then the minnows figured it out, and the float was dancing again. I switched to bread? Nope. I switched to a rubber worm? The minnows even bit that. What is wrong with these fish? I thought. I’ve fished this river before—last month, I caught a 12-inch bass and a 10-inch carp. Today? Just minnows and tiny soldiers. Unbelievable.

16:00: Last Ditch Effort (And More Soldiers)

By 4 PM, I was ready to call it quits. But then I thought, “Wait, maybe the minnows get tired when it gets darker?” So I opened a new pack of “All-in-One” bait, mixed it with a little extra water to make it stickier (to last longer), and tied on a bigger hook (size 4). I cast it out, sat back, and watched the float. For 10 minutes, nothing. Then—wham! The float dipped down, slow and steady (not the minnow twitch). I set the hook, and—another imperial soldier! But this one was bigger—longer, slimmer, like he’d hit the gym. “Okay, big guy,” I said, reeling him in. “You’re still not a carp, but I’ll take it.”

I cast again. Another minnow. Cast again. Another soldier. Cast again. A tiny perch. Cast again. A minnow. This is ridiculous! I thought. I tried everything—worms, bait, corn, rubber lures, different weights, different floats. The river was full of fish, but they were all tiny. I even saw a big carp jump out of the water 2 feet away—right in front of me! But did he bite? Nope. He just splashed and swam away, like he was mocking me. “Real mature, buddy,” I yelled at him. “Next time, bite the hook!”

Sunset: The End of the Day (And the Air Force)

By 6 PM, the sun was setting, and the sky turned pink and orange. I packed up my gear, looked at my empty bucket (okay, fine, I had three imperial soldiers and a dozen minnows, but they don’t count), and sighed. Another “air force” trip? (That’s angler slang for going home with zero fish—well, almost zero.) But you know what? I didn’t care. I spent the day outside, breathed fresh air, laughed at the tiny soldiers, and even had a little fight with that big carp (even if he didn’t bite). Solo fishing isn’t just about catching fish—it’s about the quiet, the weird surprises, and the chance to reset after a crazy week at work.

I walked back to my car, dumped the minnows and soldiers back in the river (they’re too tiny to keep anyway), and thought, “Next week, I’m coming back with a different setup.” Maybe I’ll try traditional fishing (no float, just a weight and hook on the bottom) for carp. Maybe I’ll use more rice wine bait to draw the big guys in. Maybe I’ll even bring a friend—though solo trips have their own magic. Either way, I’m coming back. The river still owes me a carp. And those imperial soldiers? They’re welcome to come back too—they’re cute, even if they’re tiny.

Final Thoughts: Why Wild Fishing Is Worth It (Even When You Lose)

So here’s the thing about wild fishing: it’s not about the catch. It’s about the drive out, the smell of the river, the way the sun hits the water, and the little surprises that make you laugh. Today, I didn’t catch a big carp. I didn’t catch a bass. But I caught a bunch of tiny imperial soldiers, fought a minnow army, and watched a carp jump like he was in a circus. That’s the “endless possibility” they talk about—you never know what’s going to happen. And that’s why I keep coming back.

Did you catch anything this weekend? Let me know in the comments—whether it’s a big bass, a tiny soldier, or just a good time outside. Until next time, tight lines!

— Angler’s Diary, September 17, 2024