Dragon Boat Rains Bring Crazy Action: Mud Carp Run Fast in Heavy Wind & Rain

Let me tell you—this year’s Dragon Boat rain season has been insane. For almost two months, every weekend felt like a waterlogged disaster. Between the never-ending downpours and bad timing, my fishing buddy Lao Fang and I hadn’t wet a line together in ages. But hey, Dragon Boat Festival gave us a break! We locked in the second day of the holiday for a trip to the Dongjiang River—80 kilometers away in Qingbian Village, Huizhou. Spoiler: It was wilder than we ever imagined.

Pre-Dawn Rush & Flooded Dongjiang

5 AM alarm? Brutal. But I dragged myself up, picked up Lao Fang at 5:30, and we hit the road. By the time we reached the river, the first thing we noticed was the water level—it was way up. Our usual spots? Completely submerged. Good thing Lao Fang is a total worrywart (in the best way)—we both brought fishing platforms. Crisis averted… for now.

Scouting the Perfect Spot

We trekked about 100 meters left from the parking lot, and wow—this stretch was prime. Wide river, a tiny island in the middle, and the big boat channel was on the other side, so it was quiet. Lao Fang pointed to two spots with big rocks, 10 meters apart: “Mud carp love these rocks.” Dude, he’s a local legend—we didn’t argue.

Setting Up Shop (On Uneven Rocks)

Building the platform on those rocks? Total pain. But it wasn’t for casting far—it was just to have a stable spot for our chairs and gear. Those rocks were like a rollercoaster for your feet. Once set up, we grabbed our rods:

• 3.9m rod: 2# main line + 0.3# short braid line + 0.5# new Guan Dong hook (for mud carp)
• 5.4m rod: 3# main line + 1.2# long nylon line + 8# Yi Dou hook (for “big catches”)

I dumped a whole pack of red worm pellets near the 3.9m rod—big water needs a heavy bait to draw ’em in. No way we’d catch anything without it.

Mud Carp Chaos (And Tiny Nuisances)

First cast with the 3.9m rod? Instant bite. But it was just those tiny, annoying little roaches—everywhere. I adjusted the float: no hook, flat water, 2-3 eyes. Lead sinker on the bottom to fight the current. Finally, at 8 AM—mud carp! A clear “dunk” bite, and I reeled in a 3-4 ounce beauty. Gorgeous silver scales—worth every early morning wake-up.

Non-Stop Mud Carp Action

After that first one? Non-stop. Dunk bites, float rises—we hit almost every one. Lao Fang was jealous at first, but I told him to quit slacking on bait. Meanwhile, the 5.4m rod was quiet… until 8:30. I was focused on the short rod when I glanced over—boom. Float dunked, then gone. I grabbed the rod, but as soon as I felt the weight, the line snapped. 1.2# nylon line cut like butter. Lao Fang just laughed: “There’s 7-8 pound Thai carp and carp here—nylon’s useless.” He handed me 1# bite-proof lines. I argued: “My main line’s only 3#—this’ll snap the rod!” He shrugged: “Big fish only come once. Even if the rod breaks, we fight.”

Bonus Catches (And Lao Fang’s Bad Luck)

The 3.9m rod wasn’t just mud carp—black float hit, and I reeled in a nice bream. Then more mud carp, plus tiny red eyes, white stripes, and barracuda (they loved intercepting the bait). I switched between dough bait (when bites were good) and pulled bait (when slow)—total game-changer. By noon, I had 9 mud carp. Lao Fang? Still getting spammed by roaches. “I’m waiting for a real fish before re-baiting,” he said. I yelled: “That’s stupid! I dumped a whole pack first thing!”

Wind, Rain, and a Flying Umbrella (Yes, Really)

We took a break at noon—hot, no bites. Drove to the village for lunch, chilled till 2 PM. Back to the river, and boom—sky turned black. Rain started, then wind. My 1.8m umbrella was on the platform— I turned it into the wind, but it was too strong. I hit the quick-release, folded it, and jumped off the platform before it flipped. Ran to the trees with the umbrella. Lao Fang? Not so lucky. His 2.4m umbrella was stuck in the ground. He tried to fold it, but the wind took it—flew into the sky. 180-pound Lao Fang couldn’t hold it. He just yelled and chased after it. I was dying laughing (but also scared he’d slip).

Umbrella gone? Fine—just don’t get hurt. The rain got worse, wind horizontal. I hid under my umbrella (propped against a tree, almost flat on the ground) watching rain fly sideways. Ten minutes later—done. Wind died, rain stopped. My platform and chair were okay, but the 5.4m rod and stand had spun 90 degrees—now parallel to the shore. Lao Fang came back, umbrella in hand. “Found it in the bushes!” he yelled. Dude, that’s luck.

Post-Storm Comeback (Lao Fang’s Turn)

I went to the car for a raincoat and water shoes. Five minutes max. When I got back? Lao Fang was fighting a fish. Rod bent like a banana—two-pound Dongjiang carp, no doubt. “Second one!” he yelled. “First one cut the line, but the bite-proof line worked!” Wild how fast things turn around, right? The sky cleared, Lao Fang’s spot finally “woke up”—he started reeling in mud carp and big barracuda non-stop.

My spot? The morning bait was gone. I didn’t re-bait—just used leftover dough. All I got was roaches and white stripes. But hey, I’d already had a mud carp frenzy—no complaints. We fished till 5 PM, packed up. Both of us had “small big catches” (local slang for a good haul). The shore was slippery after rain—safety first, so we didn’t stay late.

On the drive home, we were soaked, tired, but grinning. Lao Fang kept bragging about his carp. I reminded him about his flying umbrella. That’s the thing about wild fishing—you never know what’ll happen. Rain, wind, broken lines, flying gear… but when the mud carp start biting? Worth every second. Next time? We’re bringing two umbrellas. And maybe a rope for the big ones.