Post-COVID Fishing in Jiangyin: Did We Catch Any Fish Before Chinese New Year?

Okay, let’s cut to the chase—this wasn’t exactly a trophy fishing day. But man, was it a memorable one. Let’s backtrack to December 30, 2024, the last Friday of the year, when my buddy and I decided to hit the water for what we hoped would be a solid catch before Chinese New Year. Spoiler: The fish had other plans. But hey, that’s fishing, right? Let’s dive into the chaos (and maybe a little regret) of our day at Jiangyin Park’s Tongjiang River.

Setting the Scene: Weather, Gear, and Pre-Fishing Hype

First off, let’s lay out the basics—because even if you don’t catch fish, knowing the setup helps (or at least makes you feel like you tried). The day started gray: overcast skies, light east wind at just a grade 1. Perfect for winter fishing, we thought. I was going old-school with my rod: a 4.5-meter 6H light-hard rod. Why? Because I wanted to reel in fast without spooking the fish. Line setup? Main 1.0, sub 0.6, size 4 sleeve hook. Float? A Qinglu No. 1 with 1.1g of lead—nothing fancy, just reliable.

My buddy, Xiaowei, was on his usual vibe: lukewarm with a $2000 reel, $600 Zhan Dao rod, and some rock crankbaits. The guy’s obsessed, even though he never catches anything. (More on that later.)

Our Bait: The “Four-Part Winter Special”

For winter, I swear by this mix—no exceptions. My go-to bait combo was:

• Big Fish King (Bloody)
• All-Catch (Bloody)
• Field Blue Carp
• Wuliang You Rice Wine

I mixed this at home to save time—waiting for bait to “wake up” at the river is the worst. Xiaowei? He brought some Chinese herbal bait, but let’s be real, he never uses it. He’s too busy stealing my gear.

The Morning: Dogs, Dads, and Disappearing Water

Early that morning, I took my dog for a walk (the poor thing was half-asleep, so he was thrilled). I cruised past Jiangyin Park and saw a row of old fishing dads with long rods and short lines—they looked like they were catching something. Jealous? Maybe a little. So I snuck to a quiet spot, dropped a small bait ball, and headed home for breakfast. My plan: Come back in the afternoon when the sun (maybe) came out, and the fish would be near the bank.

Side note: My dog’s face in that photo? That’s the face of a pup who’d rather be napping than watching me throw bait. Relatable.

The Afternoon: Chaos Unfolds (Water, Gear, and Thieves)

After lunch, Xiaowei and I bolted to the river. I already had my bait ready, so I set up fast. First, I adjusted my float to “3 down, 3 up”—a classic winter setup for stability. Then… wait a second. The water started moving. Like, really moving. In five minutes, the water level dropped 2 centimeters. By the time I had my float set, even heavy lead couldn’t keep it upright. Are you kidding me? I’d just lowered my fish basket into the water, too. Ugh.

Xiaowei? He was already on his drama. “Your gear’s just sitting here! You don’t even use it!” he whined. Then—boom—he grabbed my $2000 reel, $600 rod, and a box of unopened maggot bait. “It’ll rust if you leave it!” he said. The guy’s a gear thief, I swear. Last time, he took my VIB lures (I bought 200 wholesale with three friends—5g and 7g, $5 each, way cheaper than the $15 ones at the river shop). Now he’s stealing my entire setup. And I let him! Why? Because I haven’t used my lukewarm gear in two years. I’m a freshwater guy now. My lukewarm stuff has rusty hooks, for crying out loud.

So Xiaowei took off east along the river, lures and all. I told him to bring extra leaders—this spot’s a snare for hooks. Meanwhile, I sat there, float spinning in the current, fish basket floating uselessly. Great.

Xiaowei’s “Fishing Trip” (Spoiler: No Fish)

Two hours later, Xiaowei stumbled back, red-faced and empty-handed. “No fish,” he grumbled. “Water’s dropping too fast. The bass aren’t in shallow water here.” Yeah, no kidding. Winter bass? You catch them at dawn or dusk, not midday when the water’s retreating faster than my motivation. I told him we should’ve known—midday winter fishing is a joke unless you’re fishing an overnight spot.

We sat there for another 10 minutes, watching the water pull our floats down. Finally, I said, “Let’s bounce. This is stupid.” Xiaowei agreed—though he was still gushing over my stolen reel. “It’s so smooth!” he said. Thanks, buddy. Real supportive.

Why We Failed (And What We Learned)

Let’s be real—we messed up. But hey, every bad day teaches you something. Here’s what we walked away with (even if it wasn’t fish):

• Water levels matter: We checked the current in the morning, but it shifted by afternoon. Always check twice.
• Winter bait = small batches: I almost made a big mistake by dropping a huge bait ball. Cold fish don’t move much—they eat small, frequent meals. Overnight spots are better, but if you don’t have one, fish and feed at the same time.
• Lukewarm = dawn/dusk only: Xiaowei’s midday lukewarm trip was doomed from the start. Winter bass don’t hunt when the sun’s high.
• Don’t leave gear unattended: Or at least don’t let your gear-obsessed buddy see it. That $2600 setup? Gone. Forever.

That empty basket? Yeah, that’s our trophy. Or lack thereof.

The Silver Lining: New Year’s Resolutions (Sort Of)

Okay, so we didn’t catch any fish. But we had a laugh. Xiaowei’s gear heist, my dog’s grumpy face, the way the water mocked our floats—none of that was boring. And hey, Chinese New Year’s coming. Maybe the fish are saving up for a feast then. Old Zhu (a friend) joked that he’s been buying fish from the market—$13 a pound, $14 for a small one. Maybe we should’ve just done that. But where’s the fun in that?

Next year? I’m sticking to my freshwater setup. No more lukewarm gear (RIP, $2600). I’ll check the water levels three times. And I’ll lock my gear in the car. Xiaowei? He’s already planning his next lukewarm trip. With my gear. Ugh.

So that’s our story. No fish, lots of chaos, and a reminder that fishing’s not just about the catch—it’s about the stupid stuff that happens along the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to play video games. At least the pixels don’t run away.