Catfish Noodling

Stephan Goin (left) and Brandon Roe nab a big one on Logan Martin.

Noodling: noun

1. Fishing for catfish using only bare hands, practiced primarily in the southern United States. The noodler places his hand inside a discovered catfish hole.

— Wikipedia

2. A form of fishing in which someone runs into a lake and searches for holes on the bottom with his foot. Then he inserts his finger into the hole and lets something bite it. Hopefully, it’s a catfish.

— Urban Dictionary

By Loyd McIntosh

Photos by Jerry Martin

The following activities are illegal or prohibited in the State of Alabama: Bear wrestling matches, to chain an alligator to a fire hydrant, to wear a fake moustache that causes laughter in church, and to be blindfolded while operating a vehicle.

Those illustrations may be a bit far-fetched, but the overall point is adventure, and real endorphin-creating, adrenaline-pumping adventure can be hard to find — at least the kind of fun that doesn’t land you in the Graybar Hotel or get your face plastered on one of those mugshot magazines you see on convenience store counters.

For those looking for a good time that will get the blood flowing and, literally, get you in touch with nature, look no further than noodling, an outdoor water sport gaining in popularity among young men throughout the area. Noodling, sometimes referred to as grabbling, is a type of fishing that eschews rod, reel and worms in favor of the bare hands.

From late-May through early-July, noodlers make their way to lakes, ponds and streams around St. Clair County. Mostly young men, these gonzo outdoorsmen look for holes near or in the banks, preferably under a dock or a boat ramp, where large catfish may be hiding. Once an appropriate spot is found, a noodler will leap over the side of their boat and into the murky water.

After a couple of tense minutes as God only knows what takes place under the water’s surface, the noodler emerges, one arm wrapped around the flapping catfish, the other inside the mouth of the catfish. And thus you have an emerging adventure sport that is growing in popularity on lakes like Logan Martin and Neely Henry.

“I’ve been dong this every summer since I was 14 or 15 years old and I love it,” says 19-year-old Cropwell native, Stephan Goin. “There is a just a rush you get when you catch that fish that I can’t explain. It’s just a lot of fun.”

Goin, an aspiring competitive angler, was introduced to noodling by a friend while out fishing on a hot summer day, one of those days when the high temperatures makes sitting in a boat with no shade unbearable. “We had been out there for a while and he said to me, ‘Have you ever been noodling?’ I said ‘noodling? What’s that?’ He went through the process and taught me how to land a fish, everything I needed to know,” Goin says.

After identifying a smaller hole and learning the basics, it was time for his initiation. Goin jumped in the water and noodled for his first catfish. The first few moments were tense and alarming, but, before long he was hooked.

“I felt something brush my hand then it hit me and scared me a little. It hit me so hard with this blunt force. I thought ‘I’ve go to do this’ and I pulled him out eventually,” Goin says. “I remember telling my mom and dad about it and if they had ever heard of noodling. It was like telling your parents you were going to buy a motorcycle.”

Brothers Stephan (left) and Morgan Goin on Logan Martin Lake

His first catch was a 15-pound catfish, a dwarf compared to the monsters he and other noodlers catch now. Goin says he caught a 50-pounder while noodling in Logan Martin Lake and knows of a 70-pounder caught by some others, also in Logan Martin. With monsters like these and other creatures lurking in the water, not to mention the drowning dangers inherent in the sport, noodling can be a wee bit hazardous.

“It can be kind of dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve heard of people drowning because they’ve followed a catfish into a hole that’s too small to get it out of and can’t get back to the surface,” Goin says. “Really what you have to watch out for are snakes, beavers and snapping turtles.”

Noodlers also need to look for angry homeowners who may not want them digging around their boat ramps or those who think they’re up to no good. Goin says it’s also not uncommon to encounter a marine policeman or a game and fish warden while chasing catfish on the banks of Logan Martin. “I’ve never gotten in trouble. I always have my fishing license on me and that’s always seemed to answer any questions when we get stopped,” Goin says.

“I remember one old guy just started cussing up a storm at us one day and called the Riverside Police on us,” Goin says. “They handled it, and after it was all over he said ‘God bless y’all.’ How do you like that? He cussed me up and down and then asked God to bless me.”

For many, noodling is still a mystery and, of course, controversial. Young men get the police called on them for far less than going underwater and emerging with a 35-pound catfish in their arms. And, at the moment, noodling isn’t legal everywhere in the United States. Texas only legalized noodling in May of this year. So, the big question is what does the law in Alabama say?

“It’s completely legal but you must have a game permit, and you’re limited to one fish over 34 inches long per person,” says Jerry Fincher, a conservation enforcement officer with the Alabama Department of Conservation Division of Wildlife and Freshwater Fisheries and, himself a fellow noodler. Fincher says noodlers who get crossways with the law haven’t sought the blessings of the homeowner before jumping in the water.

“You have to get permission from the homeowner before you can noodle around their docks or boat ramps. We ask for permission and if he says ‘no,’ then we’ll go on to someplace else,” Fincher says.

Fincher says many homeowners believe that noodlers cause problems to the foundations supporting boat ramps and docks and, therefore, don’t want them around. However, he says noodlers actually eliminate the problem actually caused by the fish which burrow holes on the bank to lay their eggs. Still, he says, if and when permission is granted, remember to be respectful and help give this budding sport a good name.

“Don’t use any profanity, clean up after yourself and just be a responsible citizen,” he says. “It’s a growing sport and a lot of fun. It’s a lot more popular now than it used to be.”

Goin would like to make the sport even more popular in the future. He has introduced the sport to professional B.A.S.S. anglers, football players and local adventure seekers and envisions a day where noodling tournaments and organized events are regular occurrences.

“I’ll take anyone out who wants to learn about it,” Goin says. “I don’t charge anyone. It’s just for the fun of it.”

For more on Logan Martin Lake, check out loganmartinlakelife.com

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North by Northeast

Abundant windows give views galore of the beautiful natural scenery.

By David Story

Photos by Jerry Martin

Northeast of Birmingham, on the precipice of Chandler Mountain near Steele, sits an American classic: a rustic family home perched on the edge of a cliff like something out of a Hitchcock film.

The driveway to Chandler Falls Farm crosses a branch eerily named for a man better known for mayhem than family. There is a sign reading “Manson Branch” that according to homeowner John Ard, a surgical nurse at UAB, was a $3 thrift store find.

After crossing Manson Branch onto Chandler Falls Farm, visitors feel immediate relief at the sight of a bronze Foo dog on the porch of Ard’s family home and the hand-hewn logs flanking the front entrance and continuing into the interior living space.

Ard, who’s also known for officiating at tennis tournaments, says the logs were dismantled from a cabin in Andalusia, the front door’s an interior cathedral door from England, and the exterior lanterns are reproductions.

Ard directs visitors’ attention to the porch’s resident gargoyle, which was salvaged from a long-gone Brooklyn brownstone. Railings were custom-designed. No detail’s too small to overlook. At the house’s foundation are ornate vents found at an area estate sale.

Ard is almost apologetic in saying, “I wanted to do an all-brick exterior but went with cedar-shake vinyl siding.” But, he’s obviously proud of the porch’s support beams, the largest of which weighs 100 pounds, is a non-laminated beam cut in Louisiana and brought to Chandler Mountain.

The living room floors are from the same cabin from which the wallboards were reclaimed. Two leather armchairs and a matching dark-green love seat and sofa give off a masculine vibe. The rustic base of a glass-topped coffee table is an antique Alaskan sled, and flanking the flat-screen TV are two sets of stacked cabinets. Large-scale accessories include a taxidermist’s stuffed raptor and fox.

Ard explains the alcove between the cabinets: “I had to cut some corners as the budget excluded some things, such as a stacked-rock fireplace, although we poured the foundation so a fireplace can be easily added later.”

The large framed photograph over the sofa is Mad Ludwig’s Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria, and French sculptor Pierre-Jules Mene, born in Paris in 1810, was the originator of the sofa table’s reproduction bronze of a hunt scene.

Directionally contrasting rafters make for the transition from the living area to the kitchen, which is overseen by a large-scale angel carving. The custom-made kitchen countertops are Mozambique or “White Diamonds,” and the wooden hood above the stove is supported by ornate corbels.

John Ard takes in his scenic view.

A likewise angelic image of Julia Roberts, signed by the actress, is placed strategically on the kitchen counter. The cabinetry includes a built-in hutch with leaded glass doors, and the sunroom — with adequate space for dining — flows off of the kitchen.

It goes without saying the magnificent view of Chandler Mountain is the focal point of the sunroom. Expansive three-sectioned insets of windows, each about 50 feet wide, create a spectacular 150-foot-wide view that is panoramic in scope.

“What I think about when it comes to the view,” says Ard, “is the fog between the ridges, reminiscent of the Smokey Mountains, as it comes up and floats past the house. I love the view on winter mornings and when it’s sunny the rest of year. The property was previously used like a state park and has that same quality. Actually, a boy scout troop was once found camping out here, thinking they were at a nearby state park.”

The light of which Ard speaks is exquisitely filtered through stained-glass windows, circa 1871, from one of New York’s long-gone Catholic churches, both of which were made in memory of William S. and Elizabeth E. Corbett. The windows, jarringly juxtaposed with an authentic Ruby Tuesday’s door (a flea market find), depict St. Anthony turning toward the sea and speaking to the fish, who for their part, raise up their bodies and perch, as it seems, on top of the water. According to the homily upon which the stained images were based, St. Anthony then blessed the fish, which returned to the sea. In keeping with the sunroom’s theological theme, there are a smattering of crucifixes about.

A kitschy coat rack, circa 1970s, sports a vintage West Point cadet’s jacket. A bobcat, perfectly preserved by an adept taxidermist, pops in one corner.

The sunroom’s vintage 1895 solid walnut library table was refitted with a glass top and serves as a dining table. Across from the table hangs a black and white photo, titled “Flatiron No. 3”, which brilliantly depicts the legendary triangular Flatiron building in New York City, or the Fuller Building, as it was originally called, which is located at 175 Fifth Avenue.

The ornate staircase was salvaged by Burgin Construction from Selma’s pre-Civil War Albert Hotel (a replica of the Doge’s Palace in Venice), which was torn down in 1969. The staircase was later acquired and sold to Ard by Fritz Whaley of The Garages in Birmingham.

As visitors exit the sunroom, their attention is drawn to a print by Mexican American rock guitarist Carlos Augusto Selva Santana encased in an alcove of three windowed glass walls. The Santana graphic leads the way to a spiral staircase, meandering upwards to the guest rooms above. The view through the glass windows from the spiral stairs is dizzying. “When you walk down, you feel as if you might go over the edge, a la Hitchcock’s Vertigo, ” says Ard.

The second floor hallway leading to the guest rooms features a striking nude, painted by Agnes B. Taugner in 1952. “Agnes Taugner, who taught at Auburn,” says Ard, “is a sweet lady and was a neighbor in Auburn, where I grew up after we moved there in the 1960s for my mom to go to grad school. Agnes was part of a group of family friends who regularly gathered around our kitchen table to discuss art and drama.”

The smaller upstairs guest room features twin beds and is called “the grandchildren’s room” for its coziness and intimacy. There’s an antique Eastlake chair, circa 1910, and an unruly bobcat throw complete with feline fur. This overall monochromatic beige room’s accented with floral prints on the walls and floral spreads on the half beds. An antique white-washed French commode hides in the corner.

The guest bath is illuminated by a Pella transom-style window with a clerestory effect. Ard’s most treasured possession in this bath is a signed photo of Sting. A re-slivered antique mirror rests on top of an antique vanity refitted as a countertop for the sink. Gold-plated swan-shaped faucets and blue and white decorative, hand-painted tiles add bursts of sheen and color.

The most prominent of the second-floor guest rooms features another Taugner painting. In this larger room, an armoire from the 1930s proportionately offsets the mirrored double doors. Over the bed hangs the other Taugner from 1996, with its hues of red and blue, depicting the Mexican El Dia de los Muertos or the Day of the Dead, a festival honoring the remembrance of deceased loved ones.

The most private of the guest rooms is Ard’s older daughter’s room. “This white guest room has a canopy bed from Henredon,” he says. “Her desk is Toscana from the Philippines and is hand-carved mahogany. There are family photos throughout the bedroom, and the side panel door was salvaged from a college campus. It was actually shown on the cover of a student brochure at Columbus’ Mississippi University for Women, in Columbus, Miss., where my daughter Angie went one summer when she was a junior in high school to participate in a special program for secondary students.”

At the very top of the house is a loft, which doubles as billiard room and sleeping quarters for Ard’s youngest child, and is chock full of pop culture memorabilia. Music-related artifacts include signed poster-sized images of Motley Crue and Aerosmith.

In homage to Manson Branch, which borders the property, a likeness of Charles Manson can be found taking a time-out in the billiard room’s closet. Scattered about is more signed memorabilia from Rod Stewart, Dolly Patron, the Pointer Sisters, Whitney Houston and Bob Dylan, the bulk of which is numbered and comprised of Charlie Hall personal Arista record label collection.

As to the origins of the memorabilia, Ard says, “The provenance is through The Magic Platter, and the pieces were collected from the artists by one of the business’s partners. The collection’s a conversation piece and contributes to the ambience. People said I wouldn’t be able to use a collection of pop memorabilia, but it works, just as the state-of-the-art kitchen works juxtaposed with the vintage, log cabin-inspired living area.”

On a more traditional note, next to the pool table, which is the loft’s centerpiece, aptly hangs a hobnailed and faux leather-matted reproduction of Ron Henry O’Neil’s The Billiards.

Back downstairs, Ard’s penchant for unusual art pieces is reflected in the Donald Grant hand-signed and numbered limited-edition prints, Big Cats and Tigers, which hang against a sage-green wall over a grouping of two 1920s walnut and cane chairs.

A focal point is a piece by artist Iris Margagaliotti hanging over the fireplace, the surround of which is from the 1920s and original to an old Mountain Brook home. Next to the hearth resides a regal lioness. The wall treatments, which frame yet another stupendous view, and matching bed linens are in a pattern of bright plum and muted-green floral with a touch of beige. The carpet’s a white Berber.

The pediment over the bed came from an old wardrobe and, in a utilitarian sense, gracefully supports the bed hangings, and aesthetically, it perfectly crowns the mound of tapestry pillows on the bed.

Adjacent is the master bath, which immediately draws the eye to a stained-glass window over the tub. The most unexpected find is a signed photo of the 1960s pops group The Monkees. The bath’s theme is a cherub motif, as shown by the vanity’s pot metal or “monkey metal” candelabra, angelic sconces, and cherubic statuettes flanking the tub from windowsill to floor. Also of note is a crystal and stained bronzed chandelier hung from an authentic horsehair and plaster medallion, a detail which Ard is quick to point out.

“When you design a building, structure and function are the easy part, but the artistry lies in the details,” concludes Ard, citing an old German proverb often attributed to Mies van der Rohe. As it turned out, the cliffside house in Hitchcock’s North by Northwest was a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired Hollywood set, designed by Henry Grace and Frank McKelvey, but by contrast Ard’s mountaintop retreat, designed by himself, is the real deal and a true American classic, down to the last detail.

North by Northeast Photo Gallery (slide the ball left or right to scroll through the photos; click on the photo to enlarge)
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St. Clair Rocks

North Carolinian Conner Love begins Horse Pens ascent.

By GiGi Hood

Photos by Michael Callahan

Outstretched fingers and toes of well-worn climbing shoes find their way into tiny cracks and ledges barely big enough to hold a thimble in some places. Yet they slide a toe here, a few fingers there to steady their climb and make their way up gigantic boulders that have become the pinnacle of a sport rocking the country.

Its history dates back to the 19th century, and it is thriving in modern-day St. Clair County.

Stop for a second and just visualize the mountainous area of the county, thinking about the rock formations, the crags and crevices, areas where the sun casts shadows, places where no sun shines at all. Think about the pinnacle and imagine standing at the bottom, looking up and in your mind, “mapping” the best way to make a successful ascension to that pinnacle.

With three sites scattered along the county’s ridges and even in an open field, rock climbers from all over are descending on St. Clair County, climbing boulders that define this sport of strength, power, agility and determination as sheer as the rocks they climb.

Anticipation, fear, exuberance, sense of accomplishment, agony, ecstasy, are all words used by avid climbers when describing the fete of attempting to conquer an immovable and, possibly, an insurmountable object. As one climber simply put it, “if you can’t move it, then master it!”

Some of the country’s best rock climbing exists within the boundaries of St. Clair County. The cliffs of Steele, the boulder field of Shoal Creek Valley and Horse Pens 40 are all venues that are rocking the sport.

St. Clair County, with its centuries-old rock outcroppings, is considered a “must visit, must-do” place among climbers. Located in the northeast corner of St. Clair County, near the city of Steele, the area is considered to be a premier place within the Southeastern United States and commands great respect and recognition within the sphere of climbing circles.

Boulderers travel from all over the United States to the Shoal Creek Boulder Field and Horse Pens 40 to challenge themselves by climbing awe-inspiring rock formations with names like Turtle Rock, Buzzard Rock, Mushroom Rock and Stone Fort. The rock composition, which is best described as a cross between “Fontainebleua” and English Grit Stone, has created a fine sandstone texture that is conducive to a great climbing experience. Add the multiple challenging toe and hand holds that exist along the route a climber plans, coupled with great platform landings among an overlay of trees and beautiful surrounding, and you have the perfect recipe for a sport called bouldering.

Conner Love, a 19-year-old from Rocky Mount, N.C., couldn’t resist the allure and challenges of Horse Pens 40. On his way to start a new job with a rock climbing equipment business in Tempe, Arizona, he made Horse Pens one of his last stops before heading west. “I just couldn’t imagine leaving the eastern coast area without personally engaging in a climbing experience here at Horse Pens,” he said. “Anyone who really knows the sport will tell you Horse Pens is the premiere venue for bouldering, as well as one leg of the Triple Crown, the most coveted championship event in the sport.”

Referring to it as just one of the three parts of The Triple Crown is an understatement. The event is recognized as the largest bouldering competition in the U.S. Participant numbers are always larger than usual and hundreds of spectators from all over the U.S., Canada and parts of Europe flock to the Horse Pens 40 outing.

Conner points out that bouldering is much less complicated and less cumbersome than some of the climbing alternatives. “It’s just so simple,” he said. “There’s not a lot of cost because there’s not a lot of equipment. It’s just you, your shoes, some chalk and maybe a crash pad if you’re learning or practicing,” he pointed out.

With all of its “no-strings-attached” simplicity, bouldering is an artistic experience. The rocks, themselves a molded work of art, are the canvas. The climbing experience with its toe holds, grabs, crimps and a carefully chosen path from bottom to top, sets the stage. The climber, a gifted artist, graces that stage with a brilliant display of core strength, physical, mental and technical prowess, coupled with agility and grace as the ballet of the ascent is performed.

 

The legend of Horse Pens

Horse Pens, with its wonder-of-the-world serenity and jagged outcroppings, has been in existence for more years than most can imagine. Throughout time, its usage has been diverse as well as multi-cultural. It has corralled wild horses, provided the backdrop for Indian peace treaty signings, hidden Civil War soldiers and their wagons laden with supplies and munitions for the troops, provided refuge to fugitives on the lam, and played host to many arts and music festivals.

During the 1970s, while under the ownership of Warren Musgrove, the property was the site of many large bluegrass festivals, camping and great times. The irony was that the only drawback to his successful business venture was the beautiful rocks that beckoned adventuresome visitors to scale them. Deemed a huge liability, insurance would only be provided to the owner as long as no one was permitted to climb on the magnificent outcroppings. So, Musgrove hired young men to sit atop the boulder platforms and keep the climbers at bay during Horse Pens 40 events.

Now mayor of Steele, John Wesley McHugh remembers being hired by Musgrove to be a rock sitter and then having his title changed by one of the festival goers. “We would sit on the rocks, watch for people attempting to climb (much like a lifeguard) and then holler for them to get down,” he explained. “Sitting atop my perch on Buzzard Rock, I was so intent on looking out and around, I didn’t see a fellow climbing up the boulder right behind me. When he reached the platform where I was sitting, we were both shocked to see each other. And then as soon as he got himself together he shouted down to his buddy and told him not to try to ascend because there was a rock cop sitting up there. After that time, the name stuck, and we were always referred to as the Rock Cops.”

Mayor McHugh is also quick to point out that while Horse Pens 40 is an awesome bouldering spot, the crags of Steele are second to none with regard to the free-climbing aspect of the sport.

It was a climbing hotspot from the mid 1970s until 1987.

“It had become so popular that the landowners and farmers were having their tomato crops trampled as well as their peace and quiet compromised. The climbers had to park on the road and then walk through the farmers fields to the walls. Tired of the situation, the locals petitioned to deny the climbers private access and they won,” he explained. With no public access to the climbing walls, the thrill of attempting to master the cliffs while enjoying gorgeous vistas became nothing but a memory of days gone by.

While the cliffs of Steele were off limits, stories of the adventures were never forgotten and the memories were passed down to the newer generations of climbers. As time passed the shared memories motivated climbers, and new dreams emerged about once again climbing those walls. Those dreams and determination, coupled with good fortune led to the birth of new days of climbing at Steele.

When a local landowner decided to sell 25 acres that adjoined the cliffs, the Southeastern Climbers Coalition raised the money and purchased the site. And, by so doing, climbing the crags of Steele was no longer a fond memory. Once again, it had become reality, and the glory days for climbers at Steele had returned.

 

Climber shares love for sport

Birmingham climber David Hemphill likes Steele’s challenge.

David Hemphill, a Birmingham native and part of that new generation of climbers, grew up with a love of backpacking, hiking and fishing. In 1994, he found the next level in the progression of his love for outdoor experiences while working at Alabama Outdoors. “One day, construction began on an indoor climbing wall at Alabama Outdoors. Once it was completed, they gave the employees climbing lessons. Talk about love at first sight, I was hooked from the get-go,” he fondly explained.

“Later I began teaching climbing classes, and from that point on, my enchantment with the sport has never stopped growing. It involves such a complexity of body, mind and soul. There’s always a spirit of inner challenge and a feeling of competitiveness. But there is also such a peaceful side — the side that provides camaraderie, wandering, exploring and just being in such a beautiful surrounding. It allows you to do so much on so many different levels of enjoyment,” he explained. “Not unlike the game of chess, it gives you the opportunity to think, to plan, to meditate, to find solace and finally, there’s always a sense of achievement and a sense of personal growth. I’m 46 years young, and I hope I can climb forever.”

Hemphill has combined his love of the sport with an educational aspect. He has completed Wilderness Emergency Medical Training at SOLO, which he pointed out is probably the best school in the country for such instruction.

“I want to be able to help when the time is needed,” he said. “As careful as we all try to be, there is always an element of danger, a chance that medical training may be needed. I just wanted to be equipped with the necessary tools should that challenge ever arise — either for myself or someone else.”

Thanks to the Southeastern Climbing Coalition’s endeavors of raising the money and purchasing the property just north of Horse Pens, more and more people take advantage of having a place to hike, climb and commune with nature, he said. “There’s a road up to a parking area, with a trailer and a path that leads to the cliff walls.”

There is an easy hike from the parking lot and trailer to the Nardo Wall, which is the closest. Only about 800 feet from point to point, with an easy ascension, there is better accessibility for climbers carrying their gear or for people who just want to watch and perhaps participate vicariously.

“The acquisition of the property has been a great success story and a wonderful achievement by a committed group of people,” he explained. “It has returned a wonderful sport to the crags where innumerable pleasures can be derived and at the same time, the locals can enjoy their peace and solitude and not fear that their livelihoods will be compromised.

“It has also provided this generation with a second chance to prove that we as climbers, while enjoying our sport, can be good respectful neighbors to the surrounding community.”

 

Summing it up, much like a tour guide, Hemphill said, “St. Clair County is full of recreational areas and natural beauty. Whether hiking, fishing, riding through one of the picturesque back roads, bouldering at Horse Pens 40 or the Shoals, or climbing at Steele, it really is a place that has something for everyone.”

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