Early November Fishing Trip at Sancha Lake: A Chilly Adventure

Man, can you believe how fast the weather changes? Seriously, it feels like just yesterday I was out on Sancha Lake in a t-shirt, soaking up the sun. Fast forward to early November, and bam – I’m layering up in long sleeves, wondering where summer went. The temperature drop is no joke! So, with the cold snap in full swing, I decided it was the perfect time for another fishing adventure. I had plans with a buddy for Monday, but guess what? He went ahead and headed to the Hongqi Bridge tail end of the reservoir by himself. I mean, does that count as being stood up? Classic. Oh well, no hard feelings. I just packed my gear and headed to my familiar spot near the Post and Telecommunications Island. Sometimes you just gotta go with what you know.

The Journey and the Dreaded Traffic

I set out early, aiming to make the most of the morning bite, which is pure gold for any angler. But of course, the universe had other plans. Would you believe there was already a traffic jam on Shuangjian Road at that hour? On a Monday morning! What in the world? I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, watching precious fishing minutes tick by. All I could think was, “Come on, people! Don’t you know I have fish to catch?” After what felt like an eternity (but was actually just over ten minutes), the cars finally started moving. Phew! Crisis averted, but my schedule was already shot.

By the time I pulled up to the lake, it was past 9 AM. Not exactly the crack-of-dawn start I was hoping for. I parked, and my first mission was to scout my usual spot. I walked over, full of hope, only to find a whole lineup of fellow anglers already settled in. Every single one had their keep nets in the water, but from a quick glance, nobody seemed to be pulling in monsters. The fish were being shy for everyone. I knew I had to venture further. So, I grabbed my stuff and trekked to the very innermost part of the bay. Time was wasting!

Setting Up Shop in the Inner Bay

Once I found my new spot, it was all about speed. Unpack, set up, and get those lines in the water. You know the old saying: “If you want the fish to come, you gotta pay the grain toll.” I live by that. My bait mix of choice for the day:

• Wheat grains
• Fermented rice (the good, smelly stuff)
• Some standard feed pellets (Tongwei brand)

I scattered a generous helping into the water, hoping to create a little dinner bell effect. Then came the rigging. I set up my float, adjusted the weight carefully – you know the drill. Every second counts when you’re starting late.

For those familiar with Sancha Lake, this spot is a bit of a hidden gem. If you drive all the way to the end of the road near Huiguang Villa, it’s the fishing spot on your left-hand side at the very dead end. Quiet, less pressured, and today, it was all mine.

Tackle and Bait Strategy for the Cold Water

With the water cooling down, I had to think about my approach. Fish metabolism slows, so they’re less likely to chase. I decided on a two-pronged attack:

• Close Range (Hand Rod): My bait recipe was a classic cold-weather blend: Blue Crucian + Big Bream Crusher + Su Gong. I mixed it with a water ratio of about 1:0.7, aiming for a slightly firmer, more durable bait ball that wouldn’t disintegrate too quickly.
• Long Range (Casting Rod): For my longer casts, I added about 15% more wheat gluten powder to the same mix. This gives the bait extra elasticity and helps it stay on the hook during those powerful casts. One rod near, one rod far – covering my bases.

The wait began. The lake was eerily calm, a stark contrast to my frantic morning.

The Patient Wait and the First Bites

About twenty minutes in, I saw the first signs of life. My float started doing that little nervous dance – tiny trembles and dips. My heart skipped a beat, but I held back. In cold water, fish can be finicky. Striking too early on a tentative bite is a surefire way to pull the hook right out of their mouth and scare off the whole school. The rule here is patience. Wait for the committed bite. Wait for the black sink – that beautiful moment when the float gets pulled decisively under.

I had a few of those half-hearted nibbles. Come on, take it! Finally, after downsizing my bait ball a little, I saw it. The float lifted gently, paused for a second as if the fish was weighing its options, and then… it slowly, surely, disappeared beneath the surface. That’s my cue! I set the hook with a firm but smooth lift of the rod. Felt the resistance immediately. A few spirited tugs later, and my first catch of the day was on the bank.

A little carp. And I mean little. We’re talking a “junior” size. You always hear that you should release the first fish for good luck, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It felt like breaking a ritual. So, into the keep net it went. Maybe not the most superstitious move, but it felt right.

That little guy turned out to be the trendsetter. Over the next couple of hours, I landed five or six more of his siblings, all roughly the same size. It was consistent, if not exactly the trophy haul I dreamed of. Still, a bite is a bite, and it kept things interesting.

The Heartbreak of the One That Got Away

Then came the moment of tragedy. I had a solid take, felt the weight, started reeling in, and then… nothing. The hook pulled free. The fish must not have taken the bait fully. That unmistakable “plop” of the line going slack is the worst sound an angler can hear. Even worse, the commotion right at the spot where I’d been carefully baiting? That’s a sure way to spook every fish in the vicinity. The float went dead still. The party was over.

Sighing, I did the only thing you can do. I mixed up a fresh batch of bait and tossed a few more generous handfuls into the water. “Apology bait,” I call it. Trying to coax them back after scaring them off. It’s a waiting game all over again.

The Peaceful Afternoon and a Decision to Let Go

The weirdest thing about this particular day was the absolute silence of the bay. Normally, you see the fee collection boat making its rounds, but not today. It was just me, the water, and the occasional breeze. Utterly peaceful. I checked my phone and saw it was already past 4 PM. Where did the time go?

I started packing up my gear. The thought crossed my mind: “Hey, maybe I can get away without paying the fishing fee today if no one comes around?” A little “free fishing” adventure? I chuckled to myself. But in the end, that wasn’t the point. I looked at my keep net, wriggling with small, young carp.

They were just kids. I had my fun, felt the bites, enjoyed the challenge. Keeping them didn’t feel right. So, one by one, I gently released them back into the cool November water. As each little carp darted away, I gave them some parting advice: “Alright, little guys. Go home and bring your parents next time, okay? The big ones! I’ll be waiting.”

Thoughts for the Next Trip

This trip was shorter than I’d have liked, thanks to that morning traffic. But it was a success in its own way. No, I didn’t land a monster. But I wasn’t “air forced” either – I caught fish! For the next outing, I’m already plotting. I’m thinking of trying the deeper bays around the Xinmin Moon Island area. Deeper water might hold bigger, more active fish as the temperature continues to drop. The fishing journey is a long one, full of experiments.

At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about for me. It’s my escape. It’s not about filling a cooler every single time (though that’s nice!). It’s about the peace, the strategy, the anticipation, and just being out there. Going with the flow, whether it’s a friend changing plans or the fish being picky. Keeping a normal heart about it all. As long as I don’t get completely “skunked,” I call it a good day. Here’s to the next chill, the next cast, and the next story from the lake.