My National Day Fishing Trip to Gu River (Guhe River): A Solo Adventure Full of Small Wins (and Even Smaller Fish)

Let’s cut to the chase: this National Day wasn’t the big reservoir trip I’d been hyped up for. COVID had other plans for the Guanting Reservoir, so a friend threw out a last-minute curveball: Gu River in Yanqing. I’ll admit, I hesitated—Guanting’s the big fish mecca around here, right? But then I remembered: my crew bailed last minute (something about “distance” and “adult responsibilities”), and I’m only an hour from Gu River. An hour! No traffic, no early-morning panic. So I packed my rods, grabbed a pack of beer (for post-fish celebration, obviously), and hit the road. Solo mission activated.

First Stop: Gu River’s Western Bank (Spoiler: It Was a Drought)

I’m a sucker for “off-the-beaten-path” spots, so I detoured to Gu River’s western section first—you know, the part that feeds into Guanting. Big mistake. The shoreline was so shallow I could see my tackle box reflection in the water. Like, really shallow. A guy in a kayak laughed at me when I asked about fish: “Buddy, you’d need a snorkel to cast here.” Rude, but fair. I kicked a rock (it landed 2 feet out) and sighed. Back to the drawing board—time to hit the actual Gu River, even if it meant smaller fish.

Gu River North Bank: Where the Crowds (and Fish) Gather

Ten minutes later, I pulled up to Gu River’s north bank—and wow, the crowd was real. Families picnicking, kids chasing ducks, and at least 20 anglers crammed along the shore. I spotted a guy reeling in a tiny fish (like, tiny) and asked, “What’s the vibe here?” He wiped sweat off his brow: “Bait’s useless—only worms work. Oh, and my rod’s stuck in that tree over there.” Classic. I nodded, grabbed my gear, and claimed his abandoned spot (sorry, not sorry—desperate times). Bonus: the spot was right by the road, so I could grab snacks from my car without a hike. Win #1.

Day 1: The Slow Start That Turned Into a Small-Fish Party

I set up my 5.4m rod (too long, but I was stubborn) and dumped half a bottle of wine rice (my go-to chum) into the water. 3:30 PM. 4:00 PM. 4:30 PM. Nada. Zilch. I started scrolling through my phone, wondering if I’d wasted a day. Then—tap tap tap—the rod twitched. At 5:00 PM on the dot, the fish woke up. It was like someone flipped a switch! I started reeling in 1-3 ounce crucian carp (small, but active) nonstop. By 6:00 PM, my bucket had 15 fish. By sunset, 30. I even napped for an hour (yes, napped—fishing is tiring) and woke up to still catching fish. Rain hit at 7:00 AM the next day, and the bite went insane—I was hauling in two fish at once (okay, almost—one got away). I packed up at 9:00 AM, tired but grinning. Total: 45 small crucian carp. No big fish, but so much fun.

Day 2: Return Mission (Because 45 Fish Wasn’t Enough)

By National Day 6th, I was already itching to go back. I texted my friend: “Wanna come?” He said “no” (again). Fine, solo mode again. I got to the north bank at 2:00 PM, and my original spot was taken. The guy there said, “No bites since 9:00 AM—total ghost town.” I didn’t care. I found a patch of reeds, hacked through them (sorry, nature), and set up two 4.5m rods (way better—less arm strain). The afternoon was brutal: 3 hours of sun, wind, and zero bites. I started daydreaming about burgers. Then—boom—5:00 PM hit, and the fish went crazy. Double rods = double trouble (in a good way). I missed so many bites because I couldn’t reel fast enough. By 8:30 PM, my bucket was overflowing. I counted later: 90 crucian carp. Ninety! I kept 20 (for dinner, obviously) and released the rest. My arms were killing me, but I was on cloud nine.

What I Learned (and What I’d Change for Next Time)

Let’s be real: Gu River isn’t for trophy fish. But if you want to catch fish—and a lot of them—this spot is gold. Here’s my unfiltered take:

• Timing is everything: The “window” is 4:00-8:00 PM. I swear, the fish sleep until then. Waste of time before that (trust me, I tried).
• Wine rice = magic: I dumped half a bottle each time, and the bite turned on within an hour. Don’t skip the chum.
• Rod length matters: 5.4m is too long for close-quarters casting. Stick to 4.5m or shorter—your arms will thank you.
• Crowds are real, but manageable: Get there before 2:00 PM to claim a spot. The north bank has plenty of room if you’re willing to walk 10 minutes.
• Car access is a game-changer: No hiking with 50 pounds of gear? Yes, please. Most spots let you park right by the water.

Oh, and the other stuff I saw: carp jumping out of the water like they were training for the Olympics (but I didn’t catch any—next time), and grass carp munching on reeds at dawn (those guys are huge. I’m coming for you, grass carp).

Final Thoughts: Is Gu River Worth It?

Let’s be honest: I went in thinking, “This is a consolation prize for Guanting.” But by the end of day 2? I was already planning my next trip. Gu River isn’t about catching the biggest fish—it’s about catching a lot of fish. It’s about the rush of reeling in a tiny crucian carp every 30 seconds. It’s about napping in your car while fish bite, and laughing at yourself when you miss a bite because you’re eating a snack. And let’s not forget the view: the reeds, the mountains in the distance, and the quiet (until the fish start biting). It’s not fancy, but it’s fun.

Will I go back to Guanting? Maybe. But first? I’m hitting Gu River again—this time with a bigger net (for the grass carp), a shorter rod, and a cooler full of beer. Solo or not, this spot’s got my number. If you’re tired of chasing trophy fish and just want to have a good time? Check out Gu River. Just don’t forget the wine rice. And maybe a hat—sun’s brutal.