**The Great Crucian Carp Revenge Plan: Let’s Just Say the River Wasn’t Feeling It**
Okay, let’s cut to the chase: I’m still seething (and maybe a little dramatic) about my fishing trip yesterday. Why? Because I came back to the Qinhuai River, vowing to catch the *big crucian carp* (the one I missed last Sunday), and… well, let’s just say the river laughed at me. Again. If you’re a fellow angler, you know that feeling—when you’re so pumped to get back at the water for a past defeat, and it just smacks you with disappointment. But hey, that’s fishing, right? It’s equal parts agony and addiction. Let me walk you through the chaos, the mistakes, and the inevitable “I’ll be back tomorrow” mood I’m currently in.
### **The Morning That Felt Like a Trap (and a Lunch Invitation)**
First off, I’m a fish-obsessed maniac. Last Sunday, I showed up at this perfect Qinhuai River bend, set up my gear, and *swore* I’d hook that 1-jin crucian (that’s roughly 500g, folks). But then—**family calls**. You know the drill: auntie calls, “Honey, come over for lunch! We made dumplings!” and suddenly, your entire fishing game plan gets derailed.
I dragged myself away, thinking, “I’ll just hit the spot after lunch, right?” But no. Time flies when you’re chatting with grandma and her dumplings. By the time I bolted out of the house, it was 2 PM, and it was *pouring*. Rain was lashing the streets, and my cousin side-eyed me like, “You’re *still* going fishing? It’s freezing out here!”
But the thing about crucian carp (and I’ll get to that later) is that they’re sneaky. They don’t care about rain; they care about food. So I sloshed through the mud, umbrella in one hand, rod in the other, thinking, “Today’s the day. I’m getting that fish.”
### **Rainy Day Fishing: When the River *Almost* Gave Me Hope**
I set up my gear, adjusted the float, and cast my line. The rain was coming down, but the water felt calm—perfect for crucian. Crucian love slow, steady currents and soft bottoms, so this Qinhuai spot was a textbook setup. I was using earthworms as bait (my go-to for freshwater fish), and within 10 minutes… *BAM*.
The float dipped, then went under. I struck hard, and the line *screamed*. I reeled as fast as I could, feeling a solid weight on the end. “YES!” I thought. “This is the one!” But then—*pop*. The line went slack.
Turns out, I’d hooked a **tree branch** submerged in the water. The fish? Gone. Just like that. I stared at the water, half-fuming, half-amazed. I’d had a solid hookset, but the branch had snapped my line. (Pro tip: Always check your hook for snags before reeling, especially in murky water! I learned that the hard way.)
I was livid. I’d traveled through rain, delayed by family, and now the river had taunted me. But the worst part? I forgot my proper landing net. My old net pole was broken, so I’d been using a stick from the riverbank to “net” fish. That’s why I lost the big one—I couldn’t land it in time before it broke free. So, lesson learned: **Gear matters**. I sprinted to the nearest fishing store, bought a new landing net head (lightweight, collapsible—thank goodness for online delivery!), and mentally vowed: *Tomorrow, I’m back. And this time, I’m ready.*
### **Sunny Day Redemption? The River Said “Nope”**
Fast forward to today: Clear skies, perfect 20°C weather, and me at the same Qinhuai spot by 1 PM. I’d even changed my bait to a mix of corn and earthworms (variety is key, right?). I set up, cast, and waited.
First hour: Nothing. Second hour: A nibble! I reeled in a small crucian, maybe 100g. It was cute, but I let it go. Crucian this size are like the “minis” of the fish world—they don’t contribute to a “good catch,” so I wanted bigger. Then, around 1:30 PM, I saw a *massive* float dip. Not the tiny twitch of a small fish, but a *slow, steady* sink.
My heart started pounding. “This is it,” I whispered. I reeled, and the line felt heavy—*really* heavy. I fought the current, grunting like a wrestler, and finally saw the fish. Oh man, it was a crucian! But wait—was it the same one from last time? Maybe not. It was smaller than I remembered, but still over 300g. I was inches from landing it when—*snap*.
No, wait. My line broke again. But this time, it wasn’t a branch. It was my line’s fault—maybe I used too old a line? Or maybe the hook was damaged. I don’t know. I was so confused, I almost threw my rod into the water. But then I noticed two other anglers packing up. They’d been fishing near me all morning, and they’d caught *nothing*.
“Tough day?” one asked.
“Tough *week*,” I grumbled.
They laughed and left, saying they were going to try another spot. I followed their advice, moving to a backup bend downstream. But even there, the fish were nowhere to be found. I caught two more tiny crucian, released them, and called it a day. By 3 PM, I was soaked (sunburned, actually) and defeated. I walked home with my empty rod bag, feeling like a failure.
### **Why Do We Keep Going Back?**
Here’s the thing: I’m not quitting. Anglers are stubborn that way. We’re the type who spend hours, get skunked, and still go back the next day. Why? Because fishing is a love-hate relationship with the river. It’s frustrating, yes, but the thrill of a bite, the calm of the water, the camaraderie with other anglers—those are the reasons we endure the bad days.
If you’re like me, you’ve probably had days where the fish just *don’t bite*. Maybe you’re using the wrong bait, or the water’s too warm, or the fish are schooling elsewhere. Crucian carp are sensitive to water temperature, so in Nanjing, they’re more active in spring and autumn. Summer can be tough (they hide in deep water), but rain cools them down, making them hit baits more aggressively. That’s why the rainy day was perfect—until the snag, of course.
**Pro tips for crucian carp fishing:**
– Use live bait (earthworms, small minnows) or fresh corn kernels.
– Fish early morning or late afternoon (when crucian are feeding).
– Avoid bright, sunny days—they’ll hide in deeper, shaded areas.
– Check your gear for snags: Always use a strong hook and line, and clear water before casting.
### **Final Thoughts: To the River, with Love (and Regret)**
So, as I sit here, nursing my bruised ego and sunburn, I’m already planning tomorrow. I’ll bring a stronger line, a better landing net, and maybe a friend to help me net fish. I’ll also hit the Qinhuai River earlier—before lunch, before the rain, before the river gets too crowded.
And hey, if anyone has tips for landing big crucian carp in Nanjing, drop a comment! Maybe I need to try a different float or use a feeder rig. I’ll take any advice I can get.
Until then, I’ll keep chasing that 1-jin crucian. The river might be laughing at me now, but I’m not giving up. After all, that’s what makes fishing fun, right? The ups, the downs, and the endless “one more try” mindset.
Who knows—maybe tomorrow, I’ll have the catch of my life. Or maybe I’ll just catch a few small fish and call it a win. Either way, I’ll be back. The river’s got my heart… and my fishing rod.
