Introduction: Fishing as My CNY Resolution (and a Whole Lot of Hopes)
Let me start by saying: I’ve been obsessed with fishing lately. After a brutal month of work-from-home and zero casting time, the first day of Chinese New Year (CNY) was my golden ticket to “fishing detox.” No, really – this wasn’t just a hobby; it was my New Year’s resolution. I mean, how else do you spend CNY morning? Staring at a TV screen? Nah, give me a rod, a float, and a lake any day!
Plus, the village still does that old-school firecracker thing on New Year’s Day. Walking through the neighborhood, the air smelled like gunpowder and fried dumplings – total nostalgia. I swear, every time I heard a cracker pop, I smiled like a kid. But my main goal? Get to the lake, cast some lines, and finally catch something. Even if it was just a tiny minnow, I needed that first “aha!” moment of the year.
Chapter 1: The Journey to the Lake (And a Road Upgrade!)
First off, I rode my bike – no car, no taxi. Why? Because where’s the fun in driving when you can feel the wind and smell the fresh air? The old dirt road to Longhu Fishing Spot? Gone! They paved it last year, so now my bike glides like a rocket. I passed a field with waterbirds wading in the shallows – perfect, that’s where the fish should be hiding, right? Waterfowl usually mean life in the water.
By the time I got to the lake, it was 7 AM sharp. The surface was still mostly frozen, but there was a stretch with open water near some reeds – that’s where I spotted the ducks. “Perfect,” I thought. “This is my spot.” No time to waste, I grabbed my gear and set up immediately.
Chapter 2: My “Pro” Fishing Setup (Or So I Thought)
Let me break down my tackle. The day was -2 to 8°C – not too bad, and the water felt surprisingly warm when I stuck my hand in. The fog was thick, so visibility was low, but my new float – a 3.5g hollow tail with three boldened eyes – should cut through that. I wanted maximum visibility, so I went with “adjust two, fish two or three” (no, not the float size, the depth). Basic rule: adjust the weight so two eyes are under water, then fish the next three. That way, even with fog, I could see every twitch.
My bait? A fresh mix of rice wine and fishy powder – super strong smell, perfect for winter. My rod was a 6.3m Shenji, line 0.8 main + 0.5 sub, 4th size hook. To make sure I didn’t lose fish, I used a feeder rod with a sliding float for extra range. Oh, and I hit the spot with two balls of my homemade bait – no fancy lures, just tried-and-true.
Wait, did I mention the weather? Wind was calm, which is a dream for float fishing. But within an hour, I started sweating bullets – my float was still. No movement. Not even a wiggle. Three hours straight. Zero bites. I checked my float again, and it was like it was glued to the top. “What’s going on here?” I muttered. Maybe the fish were too deep? Or maybe I messed up the bait?
Chapter 3: When the “Neighbor” Became My Only Clue (And the Mystery Began)
Just when I was about to pack up, I saw a guy set up his rod a few meters to my left. “Hey, mind if I chat?” I asked. He smiled, “Not at all!” Turns out he’d been fishing here for an hour already. “You want to see my catch?” he laughed. I looked over – his bucket was full of tiny, silver fish – dace, maybe? And they were biting like crazy. Two at a time, double catches. My mind: “No way, same lake, same conditions, why am I empty-handed?!”
So I switched to my feeder rod, sliding float, trying to reach deeper water. But nope. Not a single nibble. I even switched bait – tried live worms, then a different scent. Nothing. The neighbor was still reeling in, and I watched in shock. His tackle looked identical to mine: same rod, same line, same float. How was he doing it?!
I tried to stay positive. “Maybe it’s the time of day,” I thought. “He started earlier, I got here late.” But by 10 AM, the sun was up, and the fog lifted. I saw more anglers arriving, but they were all staring at their floats, just like me. No movement. Just the neighbor, popping fish after fish.
Chapter 4: The Real Mystery: Why He Was “On Fire” (And I Wasn’t)
By noon, the lake was busier, but everyone was silent. I sat there, thinking, “Is this a fluke? A magic spot? Did I forget to hit the fish attractor?” I even asked the neighbor, “What’s your secret?” He just shrugged, “I guess I got lucky. This lake’s weird sometimes.” But luck? That can’t be. We had the same gear, same location, same time of year. Unless…
Wait, maybe the water temperature? Or the wind direction? No, we were both in the same area. I checked the water again – still cold, but the neighbor’s float was twitching nonstop. He was even switching between different baits, but I didn’t see a difference. I started to get annoyed, but then I realized: maybe this was just one of those days where some people are “in the zone” and others aren’t. Like how some days you can’t hit a bucket with a baseball, and others you’re on fire. Fishing’s like that sometimes.
Chapter 5: Ending the Day (With a Mystery Solved? Or Not)
By 2 PM, I was exhausted. My arms ached from casting, my mind was fried, and my bucket was still empty. The neighbor, though, was packing up – he’d caught at least 50 small fish! “Thanks for the chat,” he said. “See you next time!” I nodded, defeated but curious. “Mystery solved,” I thought, “or not?”
On the way home, I passed the Yellow River embankment, and there were families out for walks – no crowds, everyone spaced out. The radio said Qianfo Mountain had traffic jams, but we were safe by the lake. That’s the thing about fishing, right? You don’t always get the fish, but you get peace. I still have my pride, but maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe the lake just needed another day to “wake up.”
So, the mystery remains: why did the neighbor catch so many fish while I sat there, waiting for a bite that never came? Maybe it’s the timing, the water, or just good old-fashioned luck. But hey, next time, I’ll bring more bait, and maybe a thermos of hot tea. And I’ll definitely ask the neighbor for his secret. After all, fishing’s a community sport – we’re all just trying to catch the next big one, even if it feels like a puzzle.
