Ordinary Pleasures: Clinton Solo Fishing ~ Walleye and Wipers

The alarm never rang.

Instead, my eyes opened inexplicably at 3:50 a.m. I was instantly awake. With the promise of oppressive heat later in the day, the opportunity spoke to me. Within minutes I was on my feet, thinking about Clinton Lake.

There is something deeply satisfying about hitching the boat to the truck while the world is still asleep. As I headed west toward the lake, the first faint glow of daylight slowly appeared in the rearview mirror. A quick stop at Casey’s for fuel, ice, a couple bottles of water, and a large coffee, and I was on my way to Clinton State Park.

I arrived at the ramp just after 5:00 a.m.

The morning was already warm and humid, with no trace of the cool air that hints of spring or fall. A gentle southwest breeze put just enough chop on the water to keep the bugs at bay. The conditions were nearly perfect.

There was only one other truck in the parking lot, another lone fisherman launching his boat. I slid the Stealthcraft into the water. The little eighteen-foot skiff with its forty-horse Yamaha jet felt wonderfully familiar. After launching heavier boats like the Stealth Weld and, more recently, GUSTO, it was refreshing to return to something so light and uncomplicated. I have probably launched this boat a hundred times over the years. Every movement came back naturally.

There is something about simple that has a certain appeal.

With the electronics on, I eased over one of my favorite stretches of water—a submerged roadbed running east to west where farm fields once bordered the Wakarusa River before the valley was flooded to create Clinton Reservoir. It remains a natural travel corridor for fish.

Two downriggers were fishing Flicker Shads at twenty-four feet, while a third rod trailed far behind the boat with another Flicker Shad.

The first strike was unforgettable.

A powerful twenty-four-inch wiper, probably five or six pounds, hammered the lure. Wipers are true tackle busters, and landing one alone is always an adventure. After several unsuccessful attempts with the net, I finally eased him aboard. Following a quick photograph, I held him alongside the boat, allowing the warm eighty-one-degree water to move through his gills until he regained his strength and powered away.

About an hour later another rod doubled over. This time it was the green-and-orange Flicker Shad. A beautiful sixteen-inch keeper walleye soon found its way into the cooler.

The action continued throughout the morning. I landed four more wipers—none as large as the first but all spirited fighters—and two additional walleyes, one another keeper and one released to grow a little larger.

By 9:30 the southwest wind had strengthened enough to build whitecaps across the lake. After donating one Flicker Shad to a submerged brush pile, I decided the morning had run its course.

The boat was back on the trailer, and by 10:00 a.m. I was pulling into the driveway. A few minutes later I was floating in the swimming pool, letting the cool water erase the Kansas heat.

There is something to be said for these simple, everyday adventures.

They will never seem as epic as Scotland, nor as grand as cruising aboard GUSTO. Yet they offer something different. They ask very little. They fit naturally into the rhythm of life. Fishing water that has become familiar over the years creates a quiet sense of homecoming. Every point, roadbed, and contour carries a memory. There is comfort in knowing where you are and confidence in understanding the place.

Perhaps that is the lesson I continue to learn.

Adventure does not always require distance. Sometimes it begins before sunrise, with a cup of Casey’s coffee, a familiar boat behind the truck, and a quiet lake waiting in the darkness.

It is difficult to deny the joy found in something so wonderfully simple.