By the time the 2021 National Day holiday came around, I couldn’t help thinking back to the year before. Last October, I was stuck at home recovering, and that entire ten-day break passed without going anywhere. This year had to be different.
We had already gone back to my hometown during the May holiday for Adou’s wedding banquet, so we weren’t planning another trip there for National Day. The original idea was to spend Mid-Autumn Festival at Douma’s parents’ place and then take Adou somewhere for a few days during the National Day break. But plans never stay still for long. Before Mid-Autumn even arrived, Douma had already run off to Guiyang for fun, so everything got reshuffled: Mid-Autumn in Guiyang, and National Day back at Douma’s family home.
To avoid the worst of the October 1 traffic, we didn’t leave until the afternoon. Even then, the expressways were lit up red on the map, so we took national roads for most of the way and only got onto the highway when traffic finally looked green. Naturally, it jammed up again almost immediately after we entered. Luckily it didn’t last too long. We set off at 1:30 and didn’t arrive until 6:30.
That evening we made it in time for a family dinner hosted by Douma’s younger uncle. It turned out that cousin Pan had brought his girlfriend home. Usually when people asked, he’d say he didn’t have one; next thing you know, he was introducing her to the whole family. Over dinner he asked if we wanted to go fishing the next day. Since we had nothing else planned, it sounded like a decent way to spend the day.
An early start and a rough morning by the water
At 6 the next morning, Tao-ge dragged me out of bed. His reasoning was simple: go early, come back early, or the noon heat would make everything miserable. It was still pitch-black in the mountains when we headed out, and I hadn’t even eaten breakfast. Autumn mornings there still carried a chill, but once we were properly in the hills, the scenery made that easy to forget. The mountains were wrapped in cloud and mist.
We stopped in town for a bowl of Mianyang rice noodles and then waited for cousin Pan to arrive. We ended up waiting well over an hour. Apparently being in love makes people unusually slow. After buying bait, we finally set off again. The fishing spot was far, and after all the twisting mountain roads we eventually reached the tailwater area of a reservoir. It wasn’t some proper managed fishing ground either.
We parked at the home of one of Douma’s uncle’s friends and then started looking for a place to fish. The conditions were honestly pretty rough. The path was so narrow that two people could barely walk side by side, and if you weren’t careful, you could easily slip into the water. In that sense, it was probably a good thing Adou hadn’t come with us. After about ten minutes of walking, we found a slightly wider patch and set up there.
Cousin Pan had been there just a couple of days earlier and had caught more than ten topmouth culter, so everyone showed up full of confidence. The mood was basically: if we don’t catch a few dozen fish today, we’re not going home.
Tao-ge and I, being complete beginners, used shorter rods. For bait we used shrimp that uncle had treated with something to stun them. I confidently hooked the bait and started trying my luck, though the truth was I had no idea what I was doing. I barely knew how to read a float. My entire method was to copy everyone else by staring at it without moving. The theory sounded easy enough: when the float moves, a fish is feeding, and you strike at the right moment. In practice, my float didn’t move at all.
After waiting forever, I reeled in to check whether the bait was still there. It was. I thought maybe there were no fish in that spot, so I changed positions. Same result. That did nothing for my already fragile confidence around fishing. I’d never liked it much in the first place, mostly because I almost never caught anything. The only memorable exception had been at Douma’s grandmother’s fish pond, where I once caught a fish about the size of my index finger. Even that had made me ridiculously happy, because it was the first fish I had ever caught.
This time things were going exactly like before, so I gave up for a while and went to check on everyone else. Cousin Pan and uncle had caught nothing. Tao-ge, however, had landed one topmouth culter. After nearly two hours of effort, that single fish was all we had. Cousin Pan concluded that maybe the day just wasn’t going our way, so we decided to switch spots. The morning session ended with the glorious result of exactly one fish.
Fish hotpot at noon, then finally some luck
At noon we went back to uncle’s place and cooked a fish hotpot using the dozen or so topmouth culter he had caught earlier. The meat of that fish really is tender. Since the fish had come out of the freezer, though, it had lost a little of its freshness.
One thing worth mentioning: in Sichuan, Snow beer is usually the mainstream choice, but over there Yanjing seemed to be everywhere. The strange part was that it didn’t taste good at all. It was completely different from the Yanjing I had spent years drinking in Beijing. Maybe the water makes the difference.
In the afternoon, cousin Pan suggested going to another place near another cousin’s home. He said there were big fish there, some around five or six jin. I asked why we hadn’t just gone there in the morning. He mumbled a bit before admitting that it was actually somebody’s fish pond. I said, well, then we definitely shouldn’t be fishing there. He brushed it off: it’s all family, we’ll stop while we’re ahead.
Again we drove through a maze of winding roads before arriving at a very large pond. This time the conditions were much better than in the morning. The fishing spots were wide and comfortable. Because Yan Yi had fallen asleep and Tao-ge needed to watch him, cousin Pan helped set me up with a treble “explosion hook” rig and the bait we’d bought earlier. He told me the fish bit well there.
I believed the fish would bite. I just didn’t believe I’d be the one catching them.
So we waited and tossed in groundbait. In less than fifteen minutes, cousin Pan had already pulled in three fish, each weighing around three jin. That instantly gave me a shot of confidence. About ten minutes later, I noticed movement on my own float. I tried striking.
Hooked.
The next thing out of my mouth was basically yelling for the landing net. I was so excited. Once we got it out, it looked to be a bit over three jin as well. That was only the third fish I had ever caught in my life, and this one was actually big.
Cousin Pan said the whole reason I never liked fishing was because I’d never caught anything. Once you do, he said, you get hooked. He was right. I could already feel it happening. After catching that fish, I suddenly felt like I understood the float better than before. I still missed several strikes after that, but that’s part of the process.
Meanwhile, cousin Pan kept hauling them in. He caught another five fish, and one of them had to be at least six or seven jin. Just as I was repeatedly lifting the rod and rebaiting, convinced I had another one in me, cousin Pan said it was about time to leave. I really didn’t want to go. I was certain I could still land another fish. We waited a little over ten minutes more, but nothing happened, and that was that.
In total we left with nine fish and a very satisfying sense of victory.
That night, lying in bed, I was already browsing fishing gear on Taobao. So this really is the kind of hobby that becomes addictive. I used to hear a friend talk about her grandfather, who loved fishing so much he barely wanted to come home. I used to think that was a bit much. Now I could understand it. I spent ages looking at equipment without knowing what to buy. Next time I see cousin Pan, I’ll probably have him help me pick something.
Finally visiting Langzhong Ancient City
October 3 was reserved for Langzhong Ancient City. For years we had kept saying we would go someday, but it never happened. This time I told Douma that no matter what, we were going.
We had planned to leave at 8 in the morning, but after all the usual packing and delays, it was 9 before we actually got on the road. The overall road conditions were decent enough, mostly concrete roads, but because it was all mountain driving there were constant bends and curves. We were averaging around 50 km/h. It was the kind of road that really tests your driving, though with Adou in the car I didn’t dare go too fast. We didn’t reach Shengzhong Lake until 11:30.
It calls itself the fishing capital of China, but really it’s a huge reservoir that has built an identity around the number of anglers who come there. We originally thought we might stop and look around. The scenery was fine, but after a quick glance it didn’t seem like there was much to do, and since it was already close to noon, we kept going.
We reached Langzhong at 1:30. I had underestimated how many people would be out traveling during the holiday. There were people everywhere. Finding parking alone took forty minutes. The parking lots were already full, and cars were lined up along the roadside.
Langzhong is beautifully situated along the Jialing River. Historically it once briefly served as the capital of Sichuan, and during the Three Kingdoms period Zhang Fei was stationed there for many years. That said, I’ve never had much of an obsession with ancient towns. Since it was nearby, though, I figured we should finally see it.
The problem with ancient towns across China is that they start to feel interchangeable. Commercialization is always heavy, and every street seems packed with snack stalls waving banners from every corner of the country. In romantic Lijiang you can find Changsha stinky tofu; in Sichuan, where the air smells like hotpot, you can still run into Yunnan flower cakes. Everywhere looks vaguely similar, and the food starts to blur together too.
Langzhong was no exception. There was Jingzhou guokui, old-style Changsha stinky tofu, and even Korean-style pounded rice cakes. What felt more distinctive there were two things: Zhang Fei beef and vinegar shops.
Zhang Fei beef is basically braised beef. It was fine, but nothing particularly unforgettable. Baoning vinegar, on the other hand, is one of China’s four famous vinegars, and since this is its place of origin, of course it gets advertised everywhere. It’s also said to be the only medicinal vinegar among the four, so besides the usual bottles for sale, there were also all kinds of vinegar-based health gimmicks, including vinegar foot soaks.
Douma, Douma’s dad, and I tried one of them, going for the cheapest raw vinegar option at 10 yuan. It didn’t feel especially different. I also saw ginger vinegar and rose vinegar, which honestly looked more like marketing than anything else. I say that because we also got a foot massage for Adou’s grandfather, and the full “massage” lasted less than five minutes. Luckily it was just a quick experience.
The entire old town was packed. As for standout attractions, there honestly weren’t many. The one thing with some personality was a street performance of “Zhang Fei patrolling the town”: a few people beating gongs and drums while a man dressed as Zhang Fei rode past in a cart.
Lunch was just a bowl of noodles. The local zhajiang noodles were pretty good.
In the afternoon we wandered around a little more and then found somewhere to sit and drink tea, mostly because it felt like we had already seen what there was to see, and Adou didn’t have much to do either. We had thought about staying to see the night view of the city, but the line for the boat rides was too long, and in the end we left before even eating dinner.
Rain, a wedding, and one more old town
For the next few days I had half a mind to go fishing again, but the weather refused to cooperate. It kept raining, so we stayed indoors.
On the 7th, we went to Santai for a wedding and took the chance to look around Tongchuan Ancient City as well. Santai was historically Zizhou, and Du Fu wrote his famous poem Hearing That the Government Troops Have Recovered Henan and Hebei there. There used to be a Du Fu Thatched Cottage in Santai, but it was destroyed long ago; the one standing now was built later.
Tongchuan Ancient City itself is also a recent reconstruction from the past few years, so it still lacks that aged historical atmosphere. We just took a quick look around. The commercial feel wasn’t too overwhelming yet, but Zizhou Ferry on the banks of the Fu River was fairly impressive. Adou got especially excited when he saw the water, though it was the kind of place where you can look but not play.
After a quick walk-through, we headed back for the wedding banquet. At 2 p.m. sharp we set off for Chengdu. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t too bad, and the drive back was smooth.
And that was this year’s National Day holiday — just a plain running record of the days as they went by.