When I retired from my longtime job as a newspaper outdoor writer, I dwelled on all the things I could no longer do. I couldn’t scramble up and down the riprap the way I once did. I didn’t have the stamina or the balance to stand at the bow of my bass boat for hours on end as I did years ago.
I couldn’t portage into a remote Canadian lake like I did in my younger days, and I lost my confidence in being able to wade in water up to my waist to cast for river trout or white bass.
As I approached my 70s, I fell into the same trap that many old-timers do: I thought my best days were over.
Then I was rescued by Rick Clunn, one of the greatest professional bass fishermen of all time. He became the oldest pro to ever win a major Bassmaster tournament when he won an Elite event at age 69. Three years later, he broke his own record.
I’ll never forget his words following his first championship: “Never assume that all your best moments are in your past.”
He later told me, “I don’t believe in timelines, things like the Terrible Twos, a midlife crisis, the retirement years. You shouldn’t listen to what everyone else expects you to be.”
In other words, age is just a number. Clunn’s words inspired me and a multitude of others. Maybe I couldn’t do things the way I did in my younger days, but I could reinvent myself.
Accept the Ravages of Time and Reinvent Yourself
Clunn once dominated by being one of those guys who won with his boundless energy. He was going to beat you by making more casts than you did, and making those casts count. In his advanced years, he learned to slow down and follow nature’s clues to where the big bass were hiding.
I decided to follow his example and just slow down. I’m just an average guy, who fishes for fun, not money. But I like to challenge myself to keep learning, and Clunn’s words inspired me to keep doing that in my senior years.
I began to spend more time fishing likely-looking habitat, instead of spraying it with 10 casts and moving on. I tried casting from different angles, then even switching lures if that didn’t work.
I paid more attention to the conditions — which banks were catching the wind, downsizing my baits when the lake was perfectly calm, following the gulls to schools of shad, even which parts of the lake smelled “fishy.”
I learned the importance of stealth, sneaking into an area without alerting the fish. And I worked on casting so that my lure landed softly, instead of with a big splash.
I drew further inspiration from fellow old-timers. I learned all about finesse fishing from Ned Kehde, a longtime friend and legendary light-line angler. He is 84, but still going strong and catching as many bass as ever.
Before that, I fished with Ken White, a fellow outdoors writer and championship tournament angler. He fished until he passed away at age 94.
“You’re only as old as you feel,” White told me. “And I feel fine when I’m out fishing.”
There are many advantages to being a fisherman in your 70s. You can draw on years of experience and often from your mistakes as well as your victories.
Old but Not Proud
There’s no question in my mind that I’m a better fisherman in my 70s than I was at half this age. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ready for the tournament circuit. I’m just a guy who is rediscovering the fun of fishing.
But it’s not just the catching. I love passing on my love of the sport to newbies, whether it be my little granddaughter or an adult neighbor. I laughed when my neighbor’s elderly dad, who hadn’t fished in years, got so excited after catching a bass that he gave it a Jimmy Houston-style kiss before tossing it back. And I’ll never forget the time when I was teaching my granddaughter to cast and she caught a nice-sized walleye on one of her first throws.
I also take more time to soak in my surroundings. I love watching the sun rise over the gentle waves of the private lake my wife and I live on. I pause to watch the bucks chase the girls during the rut in the fall. And I look forward to sharing the water with migrating geese in November and December.
Maybe I’m not as adventurous as I was in my younger days, but I’m not done. I still enjoy putting on my “Old Guys Rule” T-shirt and hitting the water with some of my fellow grumpy old men.
I guess Rick Clunn was right. I never assume that my best days are over. I still dream about the better days ahead.
