First Attempt at Making a Traditional Fishing Hook (Chao Tian Gou)

Let me start by saying—if you’ve ever tried traditional fishing in areas with limited resources, you know the struggle. My local spots? Barely any good bank fishing for regular rod setups. So I caved and bought a long rod (a pao gan for all my fellow traditional fishing fans) to try something new: traditional float fishing with a chao tian gou. Spoiler: I had no clue what I was doing at first. Total newbie move, but hey—we learn by failing, right?

Why I Decided to Make My Own Chao Tian Gou (Instead of Buying)

First off, let’s set the scene. I live in a place where decent fishing spots are scarce. The nearest river has a ton of snags, and the lakes? Most are private or too shallow for my old spinning rod. So when I saw guys on YouTube catching big crucian carp with these tiny, weird-looking hooks (chao tian gous), I thought, “Why not?”

But here’s the thing: buying pre-made chao tian gous online? Shipping takes forever, and half the time they’re either too small or too flimsy. Plus, where’s the fun in that? I’m a DIY kind of guy—if I can make it, I will. So I dove into YouTube tutorials, read forums, and decided to give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen? A few burnt fingers and a pile of useless hooks? Worth it for the story.

Tools I Gathered (Spoiler: Most Were Lying Around the Garage)

Let’s list ‘em out—no fancy gear here, just stuff I hoarded over the years:

• A soldering iron (the cheap kind from Amazon that’s probably going to die any day now)
• Some solder (lead-free, because I don’t want to poison the fish… or myself)
• Needle-nose pliers (for holding hooks without burning my fingers)
• A flathead screwdriver (turns out, this is more useful than a fancy tool kit)
• A hand drill (with tiny drill bits—for the hole in the solder, which I forgot about until later)
• Wooden board (first attempt at a mold—big mistake)
• Red brick (second attempt—game changer)

That’s it. No high-tech equipment, just random junk from my garage. If you’re thinking, “Wait, that’s all?” Yep. Traditional fishing DIY doesn’t need to break the bank.

First Try: Wooden Mold Disaster

Okay, let’s get to the first fail. I thought, “Wood is easy to carve—why not use a scrap piece of pine?” So I grabbed a chisel and a flathead, and in 10 minutes, I had a tiny concave hole in the wood. Perfect, right? Wrong.

First, I heated up the soldering iron, dipped it in the solder, and melted a blob into the wooden hole. Then I grabbed a size 6 hook (I chose a bigger hook for easier handling—smart move, actually) and held it in the solder blob with pliers. The solder melted into the wood? Wait, no—wait, the wood started to smoke. A lot. Then, after two uses, the wood was charred black, and the hole was all warped. Useless. Total waste of time.

Side note: If you try this with wood, just don’t. Save yourself the burnt smell and the charred fingers. I learned that the hard way.

Plan B: Red Brick to the Rescue

I was about to give up when I saw a red brick sitting by my fire pit. Wait a second—bricks are fired in kilns, right? They can handle heat. And they’re easy to carve with a screwdriver. Genius! So I grabbed the brick, the flathead, and got to work.

Carving the hole took longer than I thought—about 25 minutes. I had to go slow, because bricks can crack if you hit them too hard. But once I had a smooth, concave hole (not too deep, not too shallow—just enough to hold a tiny solder blob), I was ready to try again. Let me tell you: that brick was a game changer. No smoke, no warping, just solid heat resistance.

Step-by-Step: My First Successful Chao Tian Gou (Sort Of)

Okay, let’s walk through the process—mistakes and all. This is the good stuff, so pay attention if you’re thinking of trying this at home:

Step 1: Prep the Brick Mold

First, make sure your brick mold is clean. No dust, no debris—otherwise, the solder will stick to junk instead of forming a smooth blob. I wiped mine down with a paper towel and let it cool (even though it was cold from sitting outside, better safe than sorry).

Step 2: Heat the Soldering Iron

Plug in the iron and let it heat up for 5-10 minutes. Don’t rush this—if it’s not hot enough, the solder won’t melt properly. I made the mistake of using it too soon once, and the solder just sat there like a sad little lump. Not helpful.

Step 3: Melt the Solder into the Brick Hole

Dip the hot iron into the solder, then touch it to the brick hole. The solder should melt into a tiny, smooth blob—about the size of a pea (maybe a little smaller, depending on your hook size). Don’t overdo it—too much solder will make the hook heavy and useless for float fishing.

Step 4: Insert the Hook

Grab your hook with needle-nose pliers (I used a size 6 hook—bigger hooks are easier to handle when you’re new). Hold the hook so the shank (the straight part) is in the center of the solder blob. The solder should wrap around the shank a little—don’t cover the barb! That’s the whole point of the hook, duh.

Wait 30 seconds for the solder to cool. Pro tip: Don’t touch it with your fingers—solder is hot, and it will burn you. Trust me, I learned that the hard way (ow).

Step 5: The Hole Problem (I Forgot This Part)

Here’s where I messed up. Chao tian gous need a tiny hole in the solder blob to attach the line. But when I was melting the solder, I was holding the hook with one hand and the iron with the other—no free hand to poke a hole. Oops.

So after the solder cooled, I grabbed my hand drill and a tiny drill bit (the kind I use for drilling holes in beads). But wait—my drill was dead. Of course it was. I’d forgotten to charge it for weeks. Typical. So I had to stop mid-project, plug the drill in, and wait for it to charge. Annoying, but hey—next time I’ll remember to charge it first. Lesson learned.

Final Thoughts (and a Few Tips for Newbies)

So after all that—burnt wood, a dead drill, and a lot of trial and error—I had two (sort of) successful chao tian gous. They look a little rough around the edges, but they’re functional. Next time, I’ll charge the drill first, use a smaller hook (maybe size 4), and maybe add a little flux to the solder for a smoother blob. But for a first try? I’m proud of myself.

Here’s the thing: DIY traditional fishing isn’t about making perfect hooks. It’s about the process—learning, failing, and figuring out what works for you. And honestly? When I finally take these hooks out to the lake and catch a fish with them? That’s going to be way more satisfying than buying a pre-made one.

Oh, and if you’re thinking of trying this at home? Start with a red brick. Skip the wood. Save yourself the headache. And charge your drill beforehand. Trust me.

Have you ever tried making your own fishing hooks? Drop a comment below—let’s swap horror stories (or success stories, if you’re lucky). I’m curious to hear what other DIY fishermen are up to!