Chasing the Urban Fishing Hype: My Trip to Xixiang River
For the past few days, the sky has been stuck in a permanent gray, but at least the temperature hasn’t dropped into the miserable range. That’s a win for outdoor folks like me, right? I’d been hearing whispers from local fishing circles that Xixiang River was finally firing up—big news because the relentless tilapia that usually steal every bait had apparently vanished. A tilapia-free urban fishing spot? That’s basically a holy grail for city anglers. So as soon as I finished my mandatory COVID test, I hopped on my bike and booked it to the bridge over the river. I was ready to witness some epic catches.
The Scene on the Bridge: Urban Fishing Frenzy (Sort Of)
When I rolled up, the bridge was packed—but not with as many active anglers as I expected. Most people were just spectators, craning their necks to watch the few rods cast out. It made total sense, though. In a busy, built-up city like this, finding a legal, accessible spot to wet a line is like finding a needle in a haystack. I even found myself daydreaming: if someone turned this stretch of the river into a proper pay-to-fish lake, they’d make a killing. City dwellers would line up for a chance to fish without driving an hour out of town.
The anglers who were set up all had one thing in common: they were fishing shallow, using those big, round bobbers (you know the ones—impossible to miss). I struck up a conversation with a guy retying his line, and he told me the river had been producing red-eye and even bass lately. Bass in an urban river? That’s not something you hear every day. No wonder so many people were here chasing the buzz.
The Bait That Raised Eyebrows: Giant Live Mudfish
Curious, I leaned over to check one angler’s bucket, and I did a double-take. At first, I thought he’d caught a haul of tiny fish—but no, those were his bait. Giant live mudfish, each one so big I was shocked he could even fit it on a hook. He told me he was targeting bass, which made sense because bass have those massive mouths, but still—these mudfish were easily 6 to 8 inches long. You’d need a monster fish to take something that size, right?
Now, I know mudfish are a controversial bait. In areas with lots of paddlefish, using mudfish to chum is one of the most hated tactics among anglers. It’s unfair to everyone else using artificial lures or smaller bait, and it can disrupt the local fish population. I’ve even used mudfish for bass back home once, and let me tell you—zero bites all morning. Total waste of perfectly good (giant) bait.
The Long, Quiet Wait: A Total Group Skunk
I stood there for a solid 30 minutes, watching every rod on the bridge. Not a single bobber twitched. Not a single angler even felt a nibble. At one point, an angler reeled in his line, and both of his mudfish were still swimming around like nothing had happened. They didn’t even look like they’d been near a fish’s mouth.
I went from excited to disappointed real quick. I’d showed up expecting to see coolers overflowing with fish, and instead, everyone was just standing around, sipping soda and staring at their bobbers. The so-called “hot spot” was dead as a doornail. But here’s the thing: even when you get skunked, there’s still something nice about being outside at night, away from screens and the noise of the city. It’s a chance to decompress, even if the fish aren’t cooperating.
Post-Skunk Questions: What Happens to the Leftover Mudfish?
As the light started to fade and more anglers packed up, I found myself wondering: what are they going to do with all those leftover giant mudfish? They can’t just throw them back, right? Well, technically they could, but these guys had spent money on them as bait, so that feels like a waste. My weirdest thought? Are they going to take them home, fry them up, and eat them? I’ve never had fried mudfish, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. Or maybe they’ll freeze them for the next fishing trip? Who knows—if you’ve ever used giant mudfish as bait and had leftovers, hit me up in the comments and tell me what you did with them!
Lessons Learned From a Night of Urban Skunking
Even though no one caught a single fish, I left the bridge with a few takeaways that every urban angler can relate to:
- Never trust the hype: Just because someone says a spot is “on fire” doesn’t mean the fish will cooperate when you show up. Fish are finicky, especially in urban environments where water conditions can change overnight.
- Bait size matters (a lot): Using a giant mudfish might work for monster bass, but it’s going to scare off any smaller fish that might be active. Sometimes simpler is better.
- Skunks aren’t failures: At the end of the day, fishing is as much about the experience as it is about the catch. Spending an hour outside with other anglers, even if no one catches anything, is way better than sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone.
I’m already planning my next trip back to Xixiang River. Maybe next time, the tilapia will still be gone, and the bass will be hungry. Until then, I’ll keep retying my knots and hoping for the best. After all, that’s part of the fun, right?
