Winter Fishing Dry Spell Broken: Long Pole & Extended Line Lead to a Bountiful Catch

The Frustrating Winter Fishing Slump

Let me set the scene: it’s December 20th, overcast, with temperatures hovering between -2°C and 7°C. If you’re a winter angler, you know this kind of cold can turn even your go-to spots into ghost towns. For weeks, I’d been striking out left and right. The small, sheltered creeks I usually fish with traditional methods were frozen solid, so I turned to Su Gou, a larger waterway nearby. But every trip ended in disappointment—wind gusts were so strong I could barely keep my line steady, let alone feel a bite. I was this close to hanging up my rod for the season, convinced the fish had all gone into hiding.

The Perfect (Finally!) Fishing Morning

That morning, I rolled out of bed and glanced out the window. A tiny detail changed everything: the smoke from the nearby power plant’s chimney was rising straight up. No wind. Zero. Nada. I practically did a happy dance—this was the break I’d been waiting for. I took my time getting ready, sipped an extra cup of coffee, and hit the road around 9:30 AM, already daydreaming of finally breaking my dry spell.

When I pulled up to the spot, the water was as smooth as glass. No ripples, no gusts, just quiet. I wasted no time setting up my gear: an 11-meter long pole (aka a “cannon pole” for my fellow anglers), 1.2 main line paired with 0.6 leader, size 3 hook, and a float with about 2 grams of lead. The bottom was uneven, and I’m not the most precise caster on my best days, so I went with the classic winter setup: adjusted the float to sit level with the water surface, then fished at whatever depth felt right, using red worms as bait.

Early Bites, Then a Lull (And a Wobbly Stand Disaster)

Here’s the thing about winter fishing: sometimes you get lucky right out the gate. I didn’t even bother pre-baiting a spot—just cast my line out, and as soon as the float settled, I got a bite! A small, scrappy crucian carp hit the hook. Over the next 10 minutes, I reeled in six or seven more, one every two to three minutes. I thought, “Finally, my luck’s turning around!” Then… nothing. The bites stopped cold.

So I tossed in some bait to set up a proper feeding spot. Five minutes later, chaos erupted. The float was darting all over the place, but every time I set the hook, I came up empty. It was tiny topmouth gudgeon—those pesky little guys that steal bait and drive anglers crazy. I lost count of how many casts I made before I finally hooked one, but once that gudgeon was out of the way, the crucian carp started biting again. I was in my zone… until my rod stand collapsed.

Let me explain: I’d made the stand myself, and there was only one spot to place it—right over a patch of corn stalks in 2 meters of water. I’d stepped on the stalks to prop the stand up instead of staking it in the mud (big mistake). When it toppled over, I panicked a little—fishing alone means no one to help you fix these messes. I scavenged a nearby tree branch and wedged it under the stand to hold it steady. Crisis averted… for now.

Catching Pale (But Cute!) Winter Carp

I was so focused on reeling in fish that I forgot to take photos for way too long. But let me tell you: the crucian carp in this deep water were pale. Like, bright, snowy white, totally different from the big, dark, golden carp I pull out of grassy shallows with traditional methods. Those shallow-water beauties are stunners, but these small, silvery guys were still a welcome sight after weeks of coming home empty-handed.

Just when I thought I was on a roll, the topmouth gudgeon came back. One after another, I reeled in those tiny, annoying fish. I was ready to scream! I’d had enough of the bait spot—time to switch things up.

The Game-Changer: Switching to an 8.1-Meter Line

I swapped out my 6.3-meter line for an 8.1-meter one, still using the 1.2 main line. I found the bottom, and wow—this spot was 4 meters deep! I adjusted the float by pulling it down one leader’s length and kept the same lead weight, no need to re-adjust the float setup. I cast out, and almost immediately, I got a bite.

The only downside? The distance made it super hard to see the float’s movements. A lot of the fish were swallowing the hook deep, which is a pain to unhook, but there was a silver lining: double hooks! Every now and then, I’d reel in two small carp at once. That’s the kind of win that makes even deep-hooked fish worth dealing with.

Then, out of nowhere, I caught a whitebait! I never catch whitebait in winter—usually, they’re gone once the temperature drops. Last summer, I’d fish this same spot for carp and use a short pole with wheat grains to catch big whitebait, but I’d written them off for the season. That little guy was a fun surprise, even if he was tiny.

The Late-Afternoon Hot Streak

I got so caught up in fishing that I didn’t notice the time. Suddenly, it was 3 PM, and I decided to fish until 4 PM before packing up. I made sure to snap more photos, especially of the double catches—those are bragging rights material, even with small fish!

By the time I packed up at 4 PM, my bucket was heavy. I estimated I had 2.5 to 3 kilograms of fish—nothing huge, the biggest was maybe 150 grams, but who cares? I’d finally broken my dry spell! As I was loading my gear into the car, I glanced at the other anglers nearby. Some had two or three rods set up, but their catches were tiny—combined, they had less than half of what I’d caught. Why? They were fishing close to shore. My pole was cast so far out, my float was beyond their rods. It felt a little silly, but mostly, it felt like victory.

A Winter Fishing Lesson I Won’t Forget

Here’s the thing I learned that day: if you’re winter fishing in a larger waterway, go deep. Go far. The fish don’t want to be near the shallow, cold shorelines—they’re hunkered down in the deeper, more stable water. I skipped pre-baiting entirely and still caught a bucket full of fish just by casting way out.

Sure, the fish were small, and the topmouth gudgeon drove me up the wall, and my rod stand collapsed, but none of that matters. After weeks of coming home empty-handed, of questioning why I even bother with winter fishing, this trip reminded me why I love this hobby so much. It’s not about catching the biggest fish—it’s about the quiet mornings, the unexpected bites, and the thrill of finally cracking the code of where the fish are hiding.

If you’re stuck in a winter fishing dry spell right now, don’t give up. Wait for a calm, windless day, grab your longest pole, cast as far as you can, and give deep water a try. You might just walk away with a bucket full of fish and a big goofy smile on your face, just like I did.