My Most “Loved” Day at Shengzhong Lake (Dec 3, 2024)

Let me tell you—today wasn’t just a day at Shengzhong Lake. It was the kind of day that makes you forget your phone (okay, almost forget it) and just sink into the chaos of fishing, friends, and that weird, cold joy only anglers get. Spoiler: I left with sore arms, a few fish stories, and zero regrets. Let’s dive in, shall we?

The Morning Vibe: Calm Lake, Smelly Bacon (The Good Kind)

First off, the weather? Chef’s kiss. The lake was so still, it looked like someone had laid a giant glass sheet over the water. No wind, no waves—just that quiet hum of early morning that makes you think, “Today’s gonna be good.”

My buddy Lao Zhang (the guy who runs the local guesthouse) and I kicked things off with a classic pre-fishing ritual: cleaning and smoking the bacon we’d cured a few days back. Now, I know what you’re thinking—“Bacon before fishing? That’s a win!” But let’s be real, smoking bacon is messy. We had smoke everywhere, my hands smelled like cured pork for hours, and Lao Zhang kept teasing me about “ruining my fishing mojo” with the smell. Rude, but fair.

Once the bacon was hanging (and our eyes weren’t burning from smoke anymore), we grabbed our gear and headed to the spot. The walk down to the shore? Short, but scenic—trees with leftover autumn leaves, birds chirping like they knew something we didn’t. By 8 a.m., I was set up with my favorite setup: a sliding float rod (you know, the kind where you can cast far but still feel the bite). And let’s not forget the “bait mix” I’d been tweaking for days—secret recipe, obviously. Don’t ask.

The First Catch: Not the “Swimming Champion” I Expected

For the first 30 minutes? Nada. Zilch. I was starting to think the fish had skipped town for winter. Then—boom—float starts twitching. Not the big, dramatic dance, just tiny little taps. I held my breath, waited… and then a full-on blackout float. Game on. I reeled in, and immediately felt that tug—you know the one, that “oh, this isn’t a minnow” tug. I thought, “Finally! A big carp, maybe even a ‘Swimming Champion’ (that’s what we call the big ones around here).”

Turns out? Nope. It was a small bag carp—maybe 3 pounds, tops. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy! But let’s be real, I’d been hyping myself up for a monster. Still, I posed for the obligatory photo (you can’t skip that, even if the fish is small) and dropped it in the keep net. Win number one, even if it was a tiny one.

The Midday Blues: Friends Leave, I Stay (Alone, But Not Really)

Just when I was settling in, two of my fishing buddies—let’s call them Tom and Jerry (not their real names, but they bicker like it)—announced they had to head back to Chengdu early. Bummer. They’d only been there an hour, but work stuff popped up. I watched them pack up their gear, slowly, like they didn’t want to leave. Tom kept muttering, “Why does this always happen on good days?” Jerry just sighed and said, “At least we got to see you catch that tiny carp.” Thanks, Jerry. Real supportive.

Once they were gone, I reorganized my rods. I set up two sea rods (for those lazy moments when you just wait for the bell to ring) and stuck with the sliding float for the active fishing. The spot I was at? A small bay at the end of the lake—quiet, not too crowded, perfect for solo fishing. But let’s be honest: fishing alone is fun, but it’s not the same as having someone to high-five when you catch a fish (or complain to when you don’t).

Afternoon Slowdown: Bites, Chats, and Cold Hands

Lunch was simple: rice, some veggies, and that smoked bacon we’d made that morning. Lao Zhang brought it over, and we sat on the shore, eating while watching the lake. He told me stories about old fishermen who’d caught 20-pound carp here—“Back in my day, the fish were bigger. Now? They’re smarter.” I laughed, but part of me believed him. Fish these days are definitely onto our tricks.

After lunch, I went back to fishing. The sliding float got a few more taps, but nothing big. Then, around 3 p.m., I felt a tiny tug—smaller than the bag carp. I reeled in, and there it was: a tiny crucian carp. Cute, but not the prize I was after. Still, I counted it as a win—at least the fish were biting.

Nighttime Surprise: Fish Go Crazy (And I Freeze)

By dinner time, Tom and Jerry were back—they’d cleaned their gear and packed their car, but wanted to hang out for a bit before leaving. We had dinner at the guesthouse: more rice, some fish soup (ironic, right?), and that bacon again (I’m not complaining). After eating, we sat by the fire on the shore, chatting about fishing, life, and how Tom’s dog ate his favorite lure last week. Classic.

Then, around 9 p.m., Tom and Jerry headed to bed—they had to drive back to Chengdu early, so no late-night fishing for them. I stayed by the fire, sipping hot tea, and staring at my rods. The lake was dark now, only the moon reflecting on the water. I was about to call it a night when—ding—the bell on my sea rod rang. I jumped up, reeled in, and felt that familiar tug. Another bag carp, maybe 2.5 pounds. Nice!

Then, 10 minutes later—ding again. Another one! This time a bit bigger, maybe 3 pounds. I was so excited I didn’t even notice how cold I was. My hands were numb, my nose was running, but I didn’t care. I’d caught three fish in one day—more than I had in the past week combined!

Why Today Was My “Most Loved” Day

Let’s be real: today wasn’t perfect. I didn’t catch a monster carp. My friends left early. I was freezing by the end. But that’s the thing about fishing—you don’t do it for the fish alone. You do it for the quiet mornings, the stupid jokes with friends, the surprise bites at night, and that feeling when you’re so tired but so happy you can barely stand. I’ve been at Shengzhong Lake for 10 days now, and today was by far the busiest, most tiring day… but also the most “loved.”

As I walked back to the guesthouse, my arms sore, my pockets full of fish stories, I thought: “This is why I come here.” Shengzhong Lake isn’t just a lake—it’s a place where you can forget about work, forget about stress, and just be. Even if you’re freezing, even if the fish are small, even if you’re alone. That’s the magic of it.

Tomorrow? I’ll probably sleep in (my arms are killing me), but then I’ll be back. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow’s the day I catch that “Swimming Champion.” Or maybe not. Either way, I’ll be here, with my rods, my bacon, and my stupid luck. And that’s more than enough.