Back in the Fishing Saddle (After Way Too Long)
Let me start by saying this: I’ve been craving a day on the water for months. Life’s been chaotic, free time has been non-existent, and when I did get a spare minute? I’d flip-flop between “let’s GO FISHING” and “eh, maybe I’ll just nap.” I’m not gonna lie—those days where I’d jump out of bed at 4 AM, fueled by coffee and fishing fever? They felt like a distant memory. But finally, last week, I snapped. I grabbed my gear, hopped in my car, and headed to Jintang Zhugao Reservoir. Spoiler alert: it was so worth the internal battle.
Prepping for the Big Day: Gear, Bait, and Last-Minute Decisions
First things first, let’s talk setup. I rolled up with two trusty rods:
- A 5.4m rock fishing rod—my go-to for targeting bigger fish that lurk deeper
- A standard hand rod for keeping me busy while waiting for the main event
For bait, I kept it simple: homemade corn and earthworms. No fancy store-bought stuff here—sometimes the classics hit different, especially in reservoirs where fish are used to natural snacks. I’ve used this combo a hundred times before, and it never lets me down (most of the time, anyway).
Choosing the Spot: Old Faithful vs. The Tempting Unknown
I haven’t fished this reservoir in at least a year—maybe two? When I pulled up, my first thought was, “Let’s hit the dam inlet!” Last year I wanted to try it so bad, figuring the flowing water would be packed with fish looking for food. But then I hesitated. I was already running a little behind, and the inlet was a totally new spot. I’d have to scout the depth, find a good spot to cast, and hope the fish were there. That sounded like way too much work for a day where I just wanted to relax and catch something.
So I caved. I headed to my old go-to spot. It’s not flashy, but I know it like the back of my hand: I know exactly how deep the water is, where the best holes are, and how long it takes for the fish to start biting. Sometimes, sticking to what you know is the smartest move—especially when you’re rusty.
The Slow Start: Killing Time with the Hand Rod
I tossed out my homemade corn and earthworm bait to set up a long-term spot, but I knew it would take a while for the fish to find it. That’s where the hand rod came in. Hand rods are perfect for filling the gap while waiting for your main spot to “warm up”—they cast fast, you can switch baits quickly, and you’re more likely to get bites sooner.
At first, it was slow going. Then, one by one, I started reeling in small crucian carp—most of them between 1 and 3 pounds. No big trophy fish, but hey, a bite’s a bite. I was just happy to be feeling that little tug on the line again. It was like a warm-up for my fishing muscles, which had clearly gotten out of shape.
Getting Back in the Groove: Rusty Skills and Near-Misses
After an hour or so, I switched over to my rock fishing rod, ready to target the bigger fish I was hoping for. But wow, was I rusty! The first two bites were soft, subtle tugs, and I missed both. I groaned to myself—has it really been that long? I felt like a total beginner again.
But then, third time’s the charm. I felt that familiar pull, set the hook, and reeled in a solid fish. Suddenly, all that rust melted away. I remembered how to feel the line, how to adjust my grip, how to reel in smoothly without letting the fish get away. It was like riding a bike—except the bike is trying to swim away.
The Heat and the Disasters: When Fishing Goes Sideways
Here’s the thing I forgot about fishing in late spring: it’s HOT. Like, melt-your-sunscreen, make-you-sweat-through-your-shirt hot. I lasted maybe two hours before I had to find some shade. My arms were burning, and I was so dehydrated I could’ve chugged a whole cooler of water. To make things worse, the guy fishing next to me had a total disaster. First one rod slipped out of his hands and fell into the water. Then, ten minutes later, his second rod did the exact same thing! I tried not to laugh, but let’s be real—it was kind of funny (sorry, dude).
And of course, the second I stepped into the shade to cool off, that’s when I got a bite. Isn’t that always how it works? The second you stop staring at your line, the fish decide to show up. I sprinted back to my rod, set the hook, and reeled in a pretty decent carp. Note to self: never leave your rod, even if you’re dying of heatstroke.
Wrapping Up: Fish, Sunscreen Fail, and Plans for Next Time
After a quick nap under a tree (yes, I literally fell asleep mid-fishing trip—no shame), I got back to work. By the end of the day, I had a pretty solid haul. Not a “life-changing” amount, but enough to call it a success. I gave a bunch of the fish to my neighbor, kept a few for dinner, and threw the rest back into the water.
On the drive home, I realized my long-sleeved shirt had a big hole in the sleeve from the sun. Oops. Guess I need to invest in better sunscreen (or just wear a fishing shirt that doesn’t fall apart). All in all, it was exactly the day I needed. I forgot how much I love the quiet of the reservoir, the thrill of the bite, and even the frustration of missing a fish. Now I’m already counting down to my next trip—probably for the May Day holiday. My body’s sore, my arms are sunburned, and I couldn’t be happier.
Pro tip for anyone who’s been away from fishing for a while: don’t stress if you’re rusty. It comes back fast. And don’t overcomplicate things—stick to spots and baits you know, and just enjoy being outside. You’ll catch fish eventually (probably when you’re not looking).
