The Long, Cold Streak of Empty Nets
Let’s be real—if there’s a poster child for “ten fishing trips, nine empty-handed,” it’s me. How do you know? Just check how long it’s been since I posted anything here. Let’s face it, you only get the motivation to share when you actually catch something, right? An empty bucket and a sore back don’t make for a good story.
This past winter? It was brutal. I lost count of how many times I got skunked—like, not even a nibble. My float sat there like a statue, unmoving for hours. At first, I’d tough it out, standing there for five or six hours hoping for a miracle. But by the end, I was this close to hanging up my rod for good. Who wants to freeze their butt off just to stare at a motionless float?
A Glimmer of Hope: The Crowded “Air Force Base”
Then, these two days happened. The weather was perfect—sunny, mild, not a hint of that winter chill. I looked out my window and saw my usual spot (I call it my “Air Force Base” because of all the empty trips) packed with people. Seven or eight anglers, all lined up along the bank. I’d never seen that many folks there before! And hey, it was after Jingzhe (the Awakening of Insects)—surely the fish would be awake by now, right? No way I’d get skunked again… maybe?
My hands itched so bad I could barely stand it. I ran back home, grabbed my gear, and bolted to the spot. I started “pumping the nest”—casting my line repeatedly to lure fish in. Thirty minutes passed… nothing. Not a single tap. Was history repeating itself? Was I doomed to another Air Force One day?
The Game-Changer: A Random Old Man and His Magic Bait
Just when I was about to pack up, an old man showed up. He set up his rod just five meters away from me. I sighed and said, “Morning’s been dead—only the guys across the river are catching anything.”
That old guy? He didn’t waste time. He tossed a handful of bait into the water, then another. I stood there, torn. Should I go home to get my own bait? It was almost 10 AM, and the thought of walking back made me lazy. I told myself: “One more cast. If nothing bites, I’m out.”
And then—boom. Literally minutes after the old man arrived, my float dipped. I yanked the rod, and there it was: a fish! Then another, and another. For half an hour straight, I was reeling them in like crazy. It was like the fish suddenly remembered I existed!
And guess what? A little later, the old man started catching too! We took turns—him reeling in a fish, then me. At one point, I even got a double hit (two fish on one line)! It had been so long since I felt that rush of a fish tugging on my line. I was grinning like an idiot the whole time.
The Epic Finish: Breaking My Personal Best
I went home for an hour to eat lunch. When I came back, the old man told me he’d caught another three or four fish while I was gone. The afternoon bite slowed down a bit, but my first cast back? Another double hit! Talk about luck.
But then, life intervened—I had to leave. I cast twice more with no luck, so I packed up. I even gave my leftover bait to the old man as a thank-you. And just when I thought the fun was over? I cast one last time, the float didn’t even move… but I felt a tug. I reeled it in, and there was a solid crucian carp—maybe three taels (about 113 grams)! What a send-off.
The Numbers Don’t Lie: A Record-Shattering Day
Let me put this in perspective. Last year, this river only gave me results once—summer, when I caught 10-odd bullhead catfish. For crucian carp? I’d never caught more than three in a single trip. But this day? I lost count, but let’s just say it was way more than three. The final tally? Almost 20 fish, with the biggest one weighing around half a jin (about 250 grams). That’s a personal best, no question.
Why This Day Was Different (And What I Learned)
Looking back, I think a few things clicked that day:
- The timing was perfect—post-Jingzhe, the water was warming up, and fish were finally active.
- The crowd might have helped? Maybe all those people casting lines stirred up the water and lured fish in.
- That old man’s bait was a game-changer. Even though I didn’t use his exact stuff, his presence (and maybe the scent of his bait) drew fish to the area.
- I stuck it out—even when I was ready to quit, I gave it five more minutes. And that’s when the magic happened.
Oh, and let’s not forget the weather. A sunny day beats a cold, windy one any time for fishing (and for your morale).
Wrapping Up (With a Fishy Grin)
So there you have it—my Air Force One winter is finally over. I didn’t just catch fish; I smashed my personal record. To all the fellow anglers out there who’ve been on a losing streak: don’t give up. Your day will come. Maybe it’s a random old man, maybe it’s a change in weather, or maybe it’s just dumb luck. But when it happens? It’s worth every cold, empty trip.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already planning my next trip. Let’s see if I can beat this new record. Wish me luck!
