Fishing Fengting River Reservoir on the 5th Day of Chinese New Year: Nonstop Action with Stunning Tilapia

Chasing Fish (and Old Friends) on Chinese New Year’s 5th Day

Let’s be real—who wants to sit around eating dumplings and listening to family gossip all day during Chinese New Year? Not this angler! On the 5th day of the lunar new year (aka “Welcoming the God of Wealth” day), I hopped in my car and drove 70+ kilometers to another city. The plan? Visit an old college buddy and chase the fish he wouldn’t stop raving about. Dude texted me nonstop: “Carp, tilapia, crucian carp—this place is a goldmine!” I was salivating just reading his messages. No lie, I even packed a big bag of bait for monster fish the night before. Fishing addicts, am I right? We hear “big fish” and our brains short-circuit… until we’re packing up at the end of the day, that is.

The drive was a nightmare. First, an hour to my friend’s place, then another 30 kilometers to the reservoir—with a third of that being twisty mountain roads. Up hills, down valleys, hairpin turns that made my car’s weak engine whine like a toddler denied candy. I swear, at one point I thought we’d tip over! Meeting oncoming cars was a game of chicken—we’d both crawl past each other, tires inches from the edge. But here’s the weird part: the worse the road, the more I thought, “This place is gonna be a fishing paradise.” Bad roads = fewer people = more fish. Fingers crossed, right?

When we finally pulled up, I grabbed my phone and snapped a few pics to prove I wasn’t lying about the chaos. Check it out:

Finding a Spot (and Avoiding Hanging Hooks)

By the time we hit the water, it was already 11:30 AM. The reservoir was high—winter rains had flooded all the old fishing spots. Grass was poking up through the water right at the shore, which meant short rods were gonna be a disaster (hello, constant hang-ups). My buddy, his brother, and I tramped along the bank for 20 minutes, squinting at every cove. Finally, we found a spot that looked promising: a small bay with clear water and no visible grass. “This is it!” I yelled, already yanking my gear out of the car.

Here’s the setup we went with:

• Main line: 1.5 lb test
• Leader: 0.8 lb test (for smaller fish, but let’s be real—tilapia don’t care)
• Rod: Longfei Jia 5.4m (a cheap but reliable all-around rod)
• Hook: Qianli Lai size 4 (perfect for small to medium fish)
• Bait: “Tongsha Xing” (a smelly, universal bait—fishermen swear by it)
• Chum: Red worm/cricket pellets (for attracting a school) and old fermented sweet potato corn (for big carp)

I grabbed my rod and set up the chair, already sweating from excitement. Let’s be clear: I was terrified of tilapia taking over. Anyone who fishes warm water knows—tilapia are the ultimate bait thieves. They’ll nibble your hook before your bait even hits the bottom. But I had to try, right? Here’s a pic of my setup ready to go:

Oh, and I almost forgot—my buddy said the reservoir reminded him of Qiandao Lake (you know, the one with the sunken villages?). I asked if there were yellow-tailed fish (a local delicacy), but he shook his head. “Nah, mostly carp, crucian, tilapia, and some grass carp. But the tilapia here? They’re gorgeous—not like the boring gray ones you get in lakes.” That piqued my interest. Gorgeous tilapia? I had to see that.

First Cast = First Fish (and Then Nonstop Action)

I mixed up the “Tongsha Xing” bait—stinky, mushy, perfect for tilapia. Tossed a handful of red worm pellets into the water to chum the spot, then added a few kernels of sweet potato corn for carp. Then I cast the 5.4m rod as far as I could. Plop. The bait hit the water, and I waited. 10 seconds later—bam! The rod doubled over. “WHOA!” I yelled, yanking the rod up. Line screamed off the reel. I fought it for 30 seconds, and finally—pop! A small tilapia flopped onto the bank. Not huge, but it was a start!

Then it was chaos. Another cast, another tilapia. Then a double header! Two tilapia at once! My buddy was laughing so hard he dropped his rod. “Told you!” he yelled. Here’s a pic of the double catch:

But here’s the thing: the 5.4m rod was overkill. Casting it 50 times in an hour made my arm ache. So I switched to a 3.9m rod (lighter, easier to handle) with 1.2lb main line, 0.6lb leader, and size 3 hooks. Game. Changer. The tilapia were everywhere—in the shallow water near the bank, nibbling at the chum. I cast, reel, cast, reel—nonstop. I didn’t even bother taking photos after a while because it was so routine. But when I did look down at the fish, I gasped.

My buddy was right—these tilapia were stunning. Bright yellow bellies, red-orange fins, and iridescent blue-green backs. Not the dull gray ones I’m used to. I held one up to the light, and it shimmered like a gem. Here are some pics (I couldn’t resist—they’re too pretty):

I must’ve caught 20+ tilapia in an hour. They were small (most 6-8 inches), but who cares? The fight was fun, and they were so pretty I almost didn’t want to put them back. Almost.

The Carp That Got Away (and Weather Chaos)

But here’s the bummer: I was obsessed with catching a big carp. So after an hour of tilapia, I switched back to the 5.4m rod, then up to a 6.3m rod. I dumped a bucket of sweet potato corn into the water to chum for carp, then tied on a kernel of corn as bait. I waited. And waited. And waited. Then—pop! A bubble cluster appeared 3 meters from my chum spot. “Carp!” I yelled, casting the 6.3m rod as far as I could. The bait landed right in the bubble. I waited. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Nothing. Then the bubble moved. 3 meters away. “Ugh!” I groaned. I switched to a 7.2m rod (my backup), but by then, I was exhausted. I tried everything: changing bait to “Luoli” (a carp-specific bait), adjusting the float, even moving the chair 10 meters. Nada.

To make matters worse, the weather turned. It was already hazy (no sun, just gray sky), but then the wind shifted. Our “protected” bay was now wide open to the wind. The float was bobbing so much I couldn’t tell if it was a fish or the wind. I checked the time—we’d been fishing for 4.5 hours. It was getting late, and the drive back was gonna be a nightmare in the dark.

Lessons Learned (and Why I’ll Be Back)

So here’s the thing: winter fishing is all about realism. I went in thinking I’d catch a monster carp, but the tilapia were the stars. And that’s okay! Fishing isn’t just about big fish—it’s about the drive, the laughs with friends, and the surprise of catching something beautiful. The tilapia here are unlike any I’ve seen before—vibrant, colorful, and feisty. Even the “failure” with the carp was fun (sort of). I saw so many fish bubbles—carp, for sure—so I know they’re there. Next time, I’ll bring a longer rod, more chum, and patience. Oh, and maybe a better car for those mountain roads.

Before we left, I snapped one last pic of the reservoir. It’s such a pretty spot—quiet, surrounded by hills, and full of fish. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I will. Maybe next time, I’ll finally land that carp. Or maybe I’ll just catch 50 more of those stunning tilapia. Either way, I’m already counting down the days.