The Crushing “Skunk” That Left Me Spiraling
It was Friday, December 9th, 2024. The day before, the local weather forecast had issued a yellow smog warning, with moderate air pollution. I dragged my feet getting out, and when I finally did, the smog was still thick enough to taste—this gross, acrid mix of coal smoke that made my chest feel tight. But being the fishing fanatic I am, I still decided to head out.
I hit up the Ring City Water System around 8 a.m. to set up two fishing nests, planning to start fishing around 9:30. Fast forward two hours, and I had exactly zero bites—not even a tiny nibble from a minnow. Total skunk. Nada. Zip. It was like the fish had packed up and moved to a different county just to avoid me.
Let me tell you, getting skunked hits different. They say “a man fears a broken heart, a tree fears a gash in its bark”—well, my fishing pride was shattered. My usual hyper-focused fishing mood crashed harder than a lead sinker. I spent the morning going back and forth: should I fish again today? Should I stay home? I was totally lost, like a headless chicken or a panicky ant scrambling on a hot stove. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t focus, I just felt restless. So I decided to drive around, hoping to shake off this funk.
Stumbling on a Fishing Hotspot (Against All Odds)
I wasn’t really planning to fish—at least, that’s what I told myself. But somewhere between overthinking my skunked day and staring at the road, I found myself driving toward Bohai Road Bridge. It was like my car had a mind of its own, and that mind only cared about fishing.
From a distance, I could see a crowd on the bridge. A big crowd. And then I realized: they were all fishing. Thank goodness, I found my people! I parked as fast as I could and bolted over. And wow—everyone was catching fish! Turns out all the big crucian carp had moved to this spot. Some anglers already had 10+ fish in their buckets. Let’s be real, if you love something, seeing other people do it makes you itch to join in, and I was itching bad. I might not care if you found a pile of cash, but you catching a big carp? That’s enough to make me green with envy.
Responsibilities First (But Fishing a Close Second)
As badly as I wanted to grab my gear and join in, I had to head home first—I had an elderly family member waiting for me to make lunch. No matter how obsessed I am with fishing, family always comes first. I rushed home, made lunch, ate with them, left the dishes in the sink (sorry, future me!), and booked it back to the bridge. I got there right before 12 p.m.—call me efficient when fishing is on the line.
Battling for a Spot (and Breaking the Red Worm Myth)
When I got back, I hit a new problem: every good spot was taken. You might think, “It’s a whole river, how can there be no spots?” Well, most of the river was frozen solid. Only the stretch under the bridge, right along the railings, was unfrozen—and every inch of that space already had someone’s nest set up. There were 7 or 8 anglers packed into that 50-60 foot stretch, and none of them looked ready to leave for lunch. I was this close to giving up.
Luckily, I had my ice fishing and raft fishing gear in the car. I set up two nests near the drainage pipes and claimed a tiny, neglected spot at the far west end of the bridge. I used the leftover bait mix I had from the day before, set up my rods, and crossed my fingers.
Standing Out (For Better or Worse)
As I set up, I realized I was the odd one out. No one else was using raft rods here—everyone was using regular rods, and every single one of them was using red worms for bait. Me? I only had earthworms. Oh, and let’s not forget: I set up three rods total—two raft rods and one ice fishing rod—each with a hook. I know the rules encourage one rod, one line, one hook, but can you blame me? I was desperate to catch something after yesterday’s skunk. I’ll let the fish police decide if that counts as “commercial fishing.”
Red Worms vs. Earthworms: Settling the Score
I’ve tested red worms vs. earthworms a few times over the years, and here’s my take: red worms do have a slight edge in bite rate, mostly because fish find them more palatable. But red worms aren’t some magic bullet. Earthworms can work just as well if you use the right technique.
My go-to trick for earthworms in winter is the “hidden hook method”:
- Use a smaller hook—big hooks are too hard for winter fish to bite.
- Pick a medium-sized earthworm; big, fat ones are too bulky for cold-water fish.
- Cut the worm to match the length of your hook, so it’s not dangling all over the place.
- Thread the worm onto the hook from the cut end, covering the entire hook so the point isn’t exposed. This makes it look more natural and entices fish to bite without hesitation.
The Chaos (and Glory) of Catching Big Fish
It took about an hour and a half for the fish to start biting. The nests near the drainage pipes were duds—only one small fish came from there. But my raft rods? They were on fire.
Here’s the thing about using three rods close together: it saves space and lets you cover more area, but it’s a disaster when you catch a big fish. I hooked a massive crucian carp, easily 25+ centimeters long, and that thing fought like crazy. It darted left, then right, and tangled all three of my line sets into a giant, knotted mess. I was panicking—this was the biggest fish I’d seen all week, and I was terrified it would break free. I had no choice but to yank all three rods up at once, fish and all. I got the carp into my net safely, but then I spent 20 whole minutes untangling the lines. 20 minutes! By the time I was done, I was ready to scream—but hey, I had the big fish, so I guess it was worth it.
Final Thoughts (and a Challenge for You)
By the end of the day, I had a solid haul of fish—way more than I expected after yesterday’s skunk. And the best part? I did it with earthworms, while everyone around me was using red worms. All those people saying red worms are the only thing that works in winter? Yeah, I just proved them wrong.
If you’ve been stuck in a fishing rut, or if you think you need fancy bait to catch fish this winter, give earthworms a try with the hidden hook method. And if you’re ever feeling restless after a bad day of fishing? Just drive around—you never know where you’ll find a hotspot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pile of dishes to wash and a bunch of fish to clean. Tight lines, everyone!
