One Mile at a Time

Former Odenville resident wins 2025 Iditarod Dogsled Race

Top Photo: Jessie Holmes, formerly of Odenville, taking part in the Iditarod Dogsled Race, which he won this year.
Photo by Dave Poyzer, online at davepoyzer.com

Story by Roxann Edsall
Submitted photos

A trip by car from Odenville to Boston is 1,159 miles. From Odenville to Tucumcari, New Mexico is just under 1,100 miles. Now imagine a similar distance in the harsh, winter environment in Alaska, but instead of being inside your warm car, you are standing on the footboard of a sled racing through the frozen tundra at 10 to 12 miles per hour.

Alabama native Jessie Holmes knows firsthand the experience, as a musher and veteran racer of long-distance dog sled races.

He won this year’s 1,128-mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, the longest Iditarod in the race’s 53-year history. Due to a lack of snowfall along parts of the normal route, the official start of the 2025 race was moved from Willow, Alaska to Fairbanks.

The routing of the race was also altered, a precaution made to protect the safety of the mushers and their dogs, but adding over 100 miles to the grueling journey.

Holmes crossed the finish line in Nome at 2:55 a.m. on March 14, having completed the race in 10 days, 14 hours, 55 minutes and 41 seconds, just a little more than three hours ahead of second place finisher, veteran musher Matt Hall. The win brought with it a check for $57,200.

This was the 8th Iditarod for the 43-year-old Holmes, his strongest Iditarod finish. He placed 3rd in 2024 and in 2022.

Success, for Holmes, has been hard fought. Born in Sylacauga and raised in Phenix City by his mom, Judy Holmes, he admits to running away and getting into trouble a lot. As a teenager, he spent two years living with his father in Odenville and attended St. Clair County High School. Still getting into trouble there, he left school and headed out West hoping to figure things out.

“I was traveling, jumping trains, hitchhiking across the country working odd jobs,” says Holmes. “I settled in Montana for a little while working for a family. Then I headed up north into the Yukon Territory, wanting to be a mountain man.” He ultimately landed in Alaska, where he has thrived living off the grid.

He calls the wilderness the cure for the troubles of his youth. “It was what my soul needed,” admits Holmes. He credits the loving guidance of his grandfather, Gene Richmond, with his love of the wilderness lifestyle. An army veteran of World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War, his grandfather lived on Fort Benning, just minutes from his Phenix City home.

As a youngster, Holmes was happy there playing with the chickens and beagles and in the garden. “I was always trying to round up stray dogs everywhere I went and was always getting in trouble for it. I’ve had a strong empathy for animals my whole life,” Holmes says. “If you ran over a turtle, I was in tears.”

From his grandfather, young Jessie learned to hunt, fish, trap, garden and raise dogs, skills he still uses to provide for himself and for his animals. His grandfather has since passed, but his “granny” still lives in Phenix City.

With his human family so far away, Holmes’ describes his dogs as family. And a big family it is. Working with 60 to 70 dogs in his kennel, he breeds, raises and trains dogs for his teams and for other mushers.

He has apprentices who work with him at his homestead and learn about training sled dogs. He still trains his “A-team,” which is about 30 dogs, while his apprentices work with the “B-team” and “C-team” dogs. He’s mentoring these young people just as he was mentored by special people when he first arrived in Alaska.

Gettting ready to bed down with his dogs for a short rest

Holmes gratefully acknowledges the men who took him under their wings. Jerry (Gerald) Riley, the 1976 Iditarod champion, was influential in steering the Alabama transplant through some challenging times. “He kind of adopted me,” says Holmes. “He’s the one that really saw that I could be a champion and convinced me of it. I had kind of a negative perception of myself.”

Riley taught him some important wilderness skills and got him interested in dog breeding and racing. “I learned a lot about race tactics from him, like psyching out your competitors and not letting people play mind games on you. He was a master at race strategy.” Riley never got to see Holmes win the Iditarod, having passed away last fall.

For a few years, Holmes lived in Nenana and had other Iditarod racers as neighbors. 1983 Champion Rick Mackey taught Holmes more on strategy, numbers and dog care. Bill Cotter, whose top finish was 3rd place, became a father figure to him. “All three of them taught me so much,” says Holmes.

“They came from a different era of mushing,” Holmes adds. “They didn’t typically travel all through the night because they didn’t have the high-level headlamps that we have now. All the gear is a lot more high-tech now. When it felt tough for me, I thought about them. I focused on doing this for a bigger reason than myself. I did it for all the people who believed in me and for those mentors that have passed.”

Reality Star

The Iditarod isn’t Holmes’ only claim to fame. When a National Geographic channel series producer was looking for cast members for Life Below Zero, a show about sustenance living in remote villages of the Alaskan wilderness, friends recommended Holmes. He was cast in the show, which ran from 2015 to 2023, and won nine Academy of Television Arts & Sciences prime time Emmy Awards.

“I wasn’t interested in the show at first, but I was paid very well and that gave me the income boost that I needed to be able to do the racing and the lifestyle I wanted,” Holmes explains.

Jessie tends to the needs of his dogs before his own

He had already been excelling in mid-length races but hadn’t had the money to put into training and the expenses for the longer races, like the Iditarod. With his earnings from Life Below Zero, he was able to buy better dogs, breed them and increase the quality of his team.

He began training for his first Iditarod, and the show documented and filmed that first attempt and his second year. He was named Rookie of the Year with a 7th place finish in his first attempt in 2018.

“You’re cold, hungry, sleepy,” describes Holmes of the race experience. “You’re excited and, you know, scared. It’s almost every emotion you can imagine, all wrapped up in each day.” There are many dangers on the trail, including frostbite, whiteout conditions, injuries to the musher or the dogs and dangers from wildlife.

In the 2024 race, he ended up breaking his hand defending his dogs from an angry moose. “We kind of came up on it, and it was sleeping on a real narrow technical spot on the trail,” Holmes recalls. “The dogs were just trying to go by, and it tried to stomp some of the dogs in the team. It reared up and stomped towards the dogs and me and the sled. We’d just startled it, and it was using its survival instinct, but I came face-to-face with it and had to punch it in the nose.”

Very real dangers during races also include sleep deprivation and complete exhaustion, even to the point of hallucination. “I’ve only hallucinated once years ago,” says Holmes. “I was in a pretty depleted state. I was along the coast and saw semi-trucks going down the sea ice and going like 60 miles an hour. I was in this crazy state of believing that it was really happening, and I was so irritated that they would let that happen on the race trail. Then there was like a massive white wall about three feet high, and I felt like I had to duck under it, so I threw the sled on the side and ducked underneath it. When I jumped back up and threw the sled upright, I looked back and it wasn’t there.” That experience shook him, and he ended taking a 9th place finish in that year’s Iditarod. Since then, he’s learned to manage his energy and prioritize his health.

His health has been an issue for him the past three years as he recovered from nearly being crushed by a house. In September of 2022, Holmes was helping in the recovery efforts after Typhoon Merbok hit the coastline of Western Alaska nearly destroying the town of Golovin. He and other volunteers were pulling out wet insulation and plywood from under a house and when he pulled his last nail, a portion of the underside of the house collapsed, pinning him beneath. Friends pulled him out and got him to the hospital.

“I broke three ribs and shattered my wrist,” tells Holmes. “That all happened at the peak of training for that year’s Iditarod. I entered that race with a lot of physical problems and basically emaciated at 142 pounds. So, I had a tough time on the trail. I ended up getting 5th that year.

With his health a priority, this year’s race strategy was to catch a one-hour nap each time he had to stop. He planned five-hour rest stops to give himself ample time to get his dogs taken care of and to give them 3½ hours of uninterrupted sleep. After they were put to bed, he made sure his hydration and nutrition needs were met, which left him about an hour of sleep time.

“So, the first thing I do right when I get stopped is to direct them off the trail somewhere,” explains Holmes. “My leaders listen to me, so a few commands, and they’ll park themselves off the trail.”

Having settled the dogs off the trail, he gets a cooker going to melt snow. It takes 3 ½ gallons of boiling water to thaw the meat his dogs will need. Because of the incredible amounts of energy needed for the race, sled dogs needs approximately two pounds of meat at each feeding. Holmes also uses the boiling water to thaw the ointments and massage oils to help each dog with sore muscles and foot abrasions.

“After they’ve gotten their ointments and massage oils, I add the kibble and supplements to their meat,” Holmes adds. “When they’re done, I put their coats on them and get them settled in the straw bed. Then it’s time for me to eat, repack my sled and climb in the straw with them for about an hour of sleep.”

Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race rules mandate three stops along the race route, with one being a 24-hour stop at a major checkpoint and the other two being 8-hour stops. These required stops are designed to ensure that there is ample time for dog care and rest for the musher and his or her team.

It is also where mushers arrange for resupply shipments to be picked up. “I use them mostly for refueling points,” explains Holmes. “I get my straw, fuel for my cooker and my drop bags with supplies that I’ve ordered. I don’t stay in the towns. I camp in the country with my dogs.” That way, he says, he can keep his focus on the race and have fewer distractions.”

Holmes is very proud of all his dogs, particularly the team that won the Iditarod. “It was pretty special to have like that whole 10-dog team that I finished with be those that I bred and raised and have a deep connection to,” he says, adding that he loves them and wants them to succeed like a parent wanting to see his children succeed. “You know they’re not your children, but it’s a very blurred line for me.”

Two months before the start of the Iditarod, Holmes and his team won the Copper Basin 300, a 300-mile race. Then, just three weeks after winning the Iditarod, Holmes won the Kobuk 440. “That was my goal for the season,” says Holmes. “I saw how good the team was, and I knew we were at the peak of our career and had put the work in. To accomplish big goals, you have to set big goals.”

Holmes loves a challenge. “My goal was never to just live the simplest life in the world. It was to thrive in the wilderness,” he says. “I’m just an odd duck up here. I came from Alabama with a dream and a passion, and I pursued it to no end.

“I think it’s our southern heritage, the resilience and toughness that characterizes us from the South. When you’re hitting some terrible adversities, you’ve got to take it one day at a time, even one mile at a time.”

Editor’s Note: A special thank you goes out to Dave Poyzer for working with us to make sure we had the perfect cover shot for this edition. That is an outstanding photo taken in a difficult environment to shoot in. You can find his photos online at davepoyzer.com.

Cowboy Chiropractor

Rodeo champion Cody Stubbs back home again

Story by Carol Pappas
Staff and submitted photos

It’s been quite a ride, but the young man who at 15 had amassed dozens of championships in the rodeo circuit, is back home in Moody practicing chiropractic care as a full-fledged doctor of chiropractic.

Throughout his high school years, Cody Stubbs was a rodeo sensation – bull riding, chute dogging (steer wrestling), goat tying and, his absolute favorite, team roping, among other rodeo events.

Staff from left, Dr. Shawn Stubbs, Dr. Cody Stubbs, Ginny Pate and Misty Cunningham

Beyond the championship buckles and saddles, his talent earned him a scholarship to the University of West Alabama for undergraduate school, where he was pursuing orthopedic medicine.

By his second year of undergraduate studies, he realized his philosophy of care aligned more with chiropractic than traditional medicine – a more holistic approach of education, wellness and lifestyle. It turned out to be a “lightbulb” moment about his future.

It seemed a natural path to take. His mother, Dr. Shawn Stubbs, has owned Crossroads Chiropractic in Moody for the past 25 years. Cody “grew up” there, she said, flashing photos of him playing in the clinic as a toddler or sporting his name-embroidered shirt he wore to escort patients back to rooms as a youngster.

It’s always been like family around the clinic. Receptionist Ginny Pate used to be Cody’s nanny. Now she’s assisting all grown-up Dr. Cody. 

He graduated from West Alabama in Livingston, where he met his future wife, Raven, who was a rodeo champion, too, having finished fourth in the world in Barrel Racing at the collegiate level.

Out of all of his buckles, the one he received for sportsmanship is Cody’s favorite

After college, he headed to Life University in Marietta, Ga., outside Atlanta, where he earned his doctorate.

Then, it was like homecoming, returning to Moody and Crossroads Chiropractic, where he settled in as “Dr. Cody” in October.  “It’s the best job in the world,” Cody said. “I am fortunate to be able to do it and see people get better without surgery or drugs.”

His mother said she is fortunate to have him back home working with her. “I love it. It’s like a dream come true working with him, my son following in my footsteps. The patients request him, and I get to play with my grandbaby.”

That’s her plan, she said, spending more time with the grandchildren. “Cody’s handling it great, above expectations. He’s just wonderful. He is really good with the elderly population, very respectful.”

Cody Stubbs Chute Dogging Alabama State Champion at National Finals, Gallup, New Mexico, 2013

He enjoys working with the older patients, too. He makes them laugh and puts them at ease. The aging patient traditionally has a number of doctors’ appointments. His goal is to make the appointment with him one they don’t dread.

“Everybody leaves with a smile on their face after seeing him, besides feeling better,” Dr. Shawn said.

Returning home to a piece of land between Moody and Odenville has stirred those old cowboy memories in him, and he talks of getting a horse and roping again one day. “I’m a country boy,” he said. Atlanta was “a lot of city for me,” so it’s good to be home on the land among the animals and wide-open spaces.

But for now, he’s content to take care of priorities – tending to the practice, his wife and one-year-old, Weston, and a second baby on the way. “I’ll be back soon. I have other priorities to get to. Family comes first, then I’ll get back to it.

Jacob’s Ladder

A lifelong love of fishing has Springville’s Walker climbing in pro fishing circles

Story by Paul South
Submitted photos

Like most anglers, from weekenders to tournament champions, Jacob Walker’s love affair with fishing brings with it a creel full of family and friends who taught him the art and science of the sport.

Like a teenage boy smitten by  the homecoming queen, Walker fell fast and hard for angling. Even as a small boy, from the Warrior River to Logan Martin Lake, fishing and family were his Alpha and Omega.

He and his friends even engaged in a little truancy to take to the outdoors. “We didn’t skip school to do bad things,” he said. “We skipped school to go fishing and hunting.”

After high school, he enrolled briefly at UAB. But boats and tackle, not books and tests, won out. While working at Mark’s Outdoors, a Vestavia store, Walker’s fire for fishing – sparked as a small boy by his grandfathers, father, Geoff Walker, stepfather, Dexter Laird, and friends – only grew.

One grandfather owned a place on Logan Martin Lake. “When I was little, my grandfather took me to Logan Martin all the time,” Walker said. “It seemed like we got up at 1 in the morning when we’d get up early and get out on the water.

Filming a pro at work

“They would never see me from the time we got there until it was time to leave,” he recalled. “I was walking around, fishing. I’ve been doing it my whole life, man. It’s crazy.”

From those earliest days, Walker began to craft his own style of fishing. Now on the Major League Fishing Circuit, that style has served him well.

In 2024, he captured his first MLF tournament title in a weather-abbreviated event at Lake Champlain, N.Y.  On the circuit, he carries counsel from his early teachers in his mind and heart: Find your own style – from water depth, to location, to lures – and strive to be the best.

“You can’t beat everybody at their technique. You can’t always be the best at every technique. So, when I was growing up fishing on the Warrior River, I spent a lot of time fishing in shallow water… around a lot of  grass and logs and lily pads and stuff. What’s really got me (to the pros) is shallow fishing.”

What advice would he offer to someone dreaming of a pro career?

“Try to do it all. Try to learn everything. But do what fits you. Don’t try to copy someone else’s style. Try to find a style that’s going to work for you. Sometimes, that’s not going to work out. But when it does, it’ll pay off.”

That philosophy has worked in Walker’s brief tournament career. According to the MLF website, in 12 tournament appearances he has five top 10 finishes, including the Lake Champlain title, earning more than $150,000.

Tournament fishing, like the rest of society, is increasingly technology driven. But even at 26, Walker considers himself “old school.” Sure, he uses tech gadgetry, but his fishing is driven by attributes as old as fishing itself.

“There are a lot of younger guys coming out of high school and college, I would say 24 and under. Those guys are very, very good at technology … But the guys like me who are between 25 and 35, we grew up fishing the old-school techniques, not a lot of technology. The really good technology we have now, we go to watch it advance.”

He added, “A lot of guys like me, we grew up learning from the old school fishermen. No technology. They would just go off their eyes, their hearts, their instincts. (Younger tourney anglers) don’t really know the old-school techniques – fishing off your instincts and reading the water.”

So he holds fast to the old ways, even In these modern times. Shallow water. Fishing around cover and around docks. For Walker, style matters, but so do the old ways.

“Luckily, I’ve got the old-school instincts. But fortunately, I’ve been on board with the technology. So I can do both.”

He calls that period for fishermen between the mid-20’s and mid-30’s  “the magic number.” And Alabama is loaded with talented anglers, buoyed in part by the state’s diverse waters with different depths and stains and currents.

“The Coosa River, all these rivers, there’s all kinds of styles of fishing you can learn. So I was  very fortunate to grow up fishing here. It’s taught me everything.”

And that knowledge along with the support of his wife, Alyssa, and other family, friends and corporate sponsors have driven his dream. He knows his career will involve fishing. What form that professional life will take is the great unknown.

He’s a brand ambassador for NSR Fishing, Coosa Cotton apparel, Phoenix Boats from Stateline Marine in Lanett, Mark’s Outdoors, Megabass, Deps lures and Dirty Jigs Tackle and other firms and individuals. Walker has a long list of supporters.

“Part of the reason I decided not to go to college was I knew I wanted to pursue fishing as a career. Whether it’s fishing in tournaments, or being in the industry, I still don’t really know 25 years from now what I’ll be doing. But I know I want it to be  (fishing) industry related. Working  at Mark’s Outdoors gave me that golden ticket.”

A family tradition is born

His tournament career began in the pandemic year2020 in the Bassmaster open series. He finished second in his first event at Lay Lake, winning more than $18,000. In the next year, he narrowly missed qualifying for the Bassmaster Elite Series.

“I was confident after that. I know I could do this.”

After moving to MLF in 2023, Walker, now the proud father of a new baby, fished closer to home, but managed to finish sixth overall.

He credits Alyssa for her support and keeping the waters steady at home. Thanks to his job and the support of corporate and personal sponsors, he’s been able to compete in tournaments that carry with them $5,000 entry fees.

“It’s been a great year,” he said. “I finished  seventh overall. I fished in six tournaments. I got a check in five, including Lake Champlain.

“It’s crazy that a guy from way down in Alabama could go all the way up there close to the Canadian border and win,” he said. “That was such a cool experience.”

High winds that made waves treacherous on a lake that features an “inland sea” cut the tournament short. In the joy of winning, something gnawed at Jacob Walker’s heart. It didn’t feel like a full-fledged win. That led to an unusual victory celebration. There was no  cracking open a bottle of champagne, no lighting a victory cigar. He had to settle his mind and know that had the tournament not been cut short, he still would have won.

But it seems his celebration would have been a hit with family and friends who stoked his passion for fishing when Walker wasn’t much bigger than his rod and reel.

“I went fishing,” he said. “After that, I got to prove to myself I would have won anyway. It was a ball.”

And if there is a takeaway from Jacob Walker’s story, it’s thankfulness, family and friends.

“I’m very thankful to the people who took me fishing when I was a kid. I’m very thankful to my sponsors and to my wife, too. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.”

Pell City Country Club

Old friends, new friends play golf, celebrate at newly renovated facility

Story by Paul South
Photos by David Smith
Submitted photos

The legendary South African golfer Gary Player may have said it best when it comes to golf and friendship: “In golf, as in life, it’s the friends we meet along the way that make the journey worthwhile.”

No place does Player’s words ring truer than at Pell City Country Club St Clair County’s only golf course.  The 6,100-yard, semi-private layout has forged many friendships over the past 63 years.

Now, the club aims to make new friends by bolstering its membership and by promoting itself as an event venue for wedding receptions, birthday parties, baby showers, graduations, and holiday parties in its newly renovated clubhouse.

A rich history

PCCC was started in 1961 by a group of prominent local businessmen weary of driving to Talladega to play golf.

Dr. Raymond F. “Bam” Cox, Kenneth Tucker, Howell Henderson, Hank Harmon, Judge Edwin Holladay, Forest Walls, J.T. Holladay, Dr. John E. Haynes and Roy Coshatt started the club.  Tucker sold the 85 acres where the golf course resides on Golf Course Road.

“It wasn’t like today when you bring in a prominent golf course designer such as Jerry Pate (a former U.S. Amateur and U.S. Open champion) to come in and design the course,” said PCCC board member Jeff Ingram who “grew up” on the golf course.  This group of men came up with the idea to build a golf course they could play and be proud of.  The golf course is basically the same course as it was when it was built in 1961.

Through the years, the course and clubhouse have weathered numerous storms and a declining membership.  Pell City officials even fought off an effort by the City of Birmingham to take over the course to create a satellite airport to what is now the Birmingham Shuttlesworth International Airport.

Newly renovated clubhouse

The golf course was opened to public play approximately 15 years ago.  “That’s one thing that helped us survive,” Club President Derrol D. Luker said.  “There weren’t enough younger people joining the club to replace the older members who had quit playing or passed away.  The public play has really helped things out.”

According to unofficial club historian Roger Pate, retired principal of Pell City High School, PCCC has attracted more than its share of champions, including UAB standout and 2012 U.S. Open champion Graeme McDowell of Northern Ireland, 3-time PGA tour winner Boo Weekley, and former local PGA tour player Will Wilcox. 

PCCC also is home to Chris Spivey, who has won numerous women’s state amateur titles over her career, and it has hosted football standouts Jay Barker and Bobby Humphrey and NBA star Charles Oakley.  Those are some big personalities for a small-town course, especially a “nine holer,” said Pate.

The club has a pro shop as well as a small practice area and putting green.  It is a nine-hole course with two sets of tees.  Each hole has a set of white and blue tees for men less than 60 years old, yellow tees for men from 60 to 70 years of age, red tees for men over 70 years of age and women of all ages. Greem tees are for players 75 years of age and older.  The club currently has 80 members.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, the course hosts an 18-hole “dogfight,” basically a mini tournament filled with fun and fellowship.  In past years, when Pell City shut down at noon on Wednesday afternoons, as many as 50 golfers played in the dogfight.

“As far as the course, I think the reason people like it is it’s a shorter course, and it doesn’t take a long time to play.  I think that’s what makes it a little special.  You’re there to play golf with your friends,” Ingram said. “It provides something for the town that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the county.”

Bar area

But it’s the people, not pars that make the club special.  Many of the members were born and raised in Pell City and learned the game as kids on the course.

“The camaraderie and growing up with the members,” Ingram said. “As you get older, you’re playing with the same people you were playing with many years ago.  It’s a smaller club.  You don’t have as many members.  You can put a name with a face.  You’re not a number like you might be at a larger club.”

Pate agreed.  He’s been a member since 1971 and serves as course superintendent.  “It’s the people,” he said. “We have a lot of fun.”

Small country clubs like Pell City have struggled in recent years to keep members amid stiff competition for the entertainment dollar.  But the coronavirus pandemic and the raging cabin fever that came with it sparked renewed interest and attracted new members to the club.

“The numbers of rounds have definitely gone up since COVID first came around, and the number of rounds played have increased every year since COVID came,” Ingram said.

“Before COVID, we were really hurting,” Pate said. “It’s grown since then. A lot of people didn’t know this golf course was here.  It’s kind of off the beaten path.”

As with Pate and Ingram, the club’s warm, welcoming membership makes PCCC a special place to belong.

“You can go down there almost anytime and find a game,” Luker said.  “There are just good people down there.”

Precious memories

Any discussion of PCCC would not be complete without mentioning the late Ray Cox.  While Ingram has fond memories of winning numerous tournaments with Ray over the years, the deeper memories are of Cox, the son of one of the co-founders and also a past president of the club until his death in 2007.  The founder of Metro Bank, Ray Cox played at PCCC “from day one,” Ingram said.

Golf buddies celebrate hole in one by Drew Alexander

“He played golf all over the world, but PCCC was his favorite course,” Ingram said of his late friend. “I promised Ray before he died that as long as I was able, I would do my best to keep the doors open.  So far so good.”

Luker was one of those kids who grew up at PCCC.  A third-generation member of the club, he holds fond memories of playing with his Dad.  But he, too, remembers Cox.

“Before I was even 16, we lived in Mays Bend, and my Dad would let me drive over to the golf course by myself on Sunday mornings to take golf lessons from Mr. Cox.”

Cox taught young Luker, now a land surveyor, a valuable lesson. “Patience,” Luker said.

“He was a role model to Jeff and myself,” Luker said. “We want to keep his memory going because he meant so much to the club and to Pell City.”

The longevity of the club is based upon the people, the friendships and chance to compete..”

Kayak fishing

Paddle, pedal and have fun on the water

Story by Roxann Edsall
Submitted photos

Sitting out on the dock sipping your first cup of coffee, you watch the morning sun begin to cast a pinkish-orange glow on the water. Absorbed in the majesty of the morning, you startle as you catch the movement of the boat as it silently glides by just yards away.

 Silent, that is, until the snap of the line as it is cast again, all the while drifting past the dock.  Almost immediately, he jerks the line and reels in the prize. After a moment to inspect and admire his catch, the angler releases the fish off the side of his kayak.

Kayak fishing has exploded in popularity in recent years, thanks to huge improvements in materials, technology and available accessories. Fishing tournament organizers have even created competitive tournament series specifically designed for kayak anglers. Since having no live well makes transporting live fish to a weigh-in problematic, new rules were created for kayakers.

Kayak-specific tournaments and most tournaments with kayak divisions use cumulative length, rather than weight, as the unit of measure. Competitors in kayaks are often governed by the CPR (Catch, Photograph, Release) Rule, which includes catching, photographing the fish on a special measuring “ketch” board, then immediately releasing the catch.

Allen Norris and his catch

The evolution of the kayak from simple shell to tricked out vessel, loaded with fish-finding tech and gear storage has helped to define the growth of the kayak fishing industry. Technology and electronics originally developed for bass boats have been redesigned, and in some cases, retrofitted for use in kayaks. Live scope electronics can be added to fishing kayaks, too.

Arguably, the biggest development propelling its popularity has been the application of pedal drives to the hull, allowing the kayak to be moved through the water without the need for a paddle. The hands-free option allows anglers to cast and reel without having to switch to a paddle to maneuver the kayak.  As anglers are known to say, it’s a numbers game. And more casts equate to more fish.

“There are so many options when choosing a kayak,” says Allen Norris, co-owner of Cropwell’s Yak Shak and veteran kayak angler. “When you see something labeled fishing kayak, lights should go off to let you know it’s going to be more comfortable, more stable, and be able to carry more gear.”

He and Jessica, his co-owner and wife, ask a lot of questions of potential buyers to make sure they get them into the right kayak. Buyers will likely need to do a bit of research to be prepared to answer those questions, which would likely begin with what you want to do in your kayak and whether you’re looking for a sit-in or a sit-on type design.

The sit-on design, according to Norris, is more stable and many models are large enough to allow stand-up fishing. Also, with sit-on designs, there is no worry of taking on water, as they are designed to allow water to flow over the top and to drain through scupper holes.

After having the pedal/paddle, sit-in/sit-on, stand up/sit down discussion, then comes the question of motor versus muscle. Fishing kayaks can be fitted with small trolling motors, if desired, although Norris admits to being a bit of a purist. “When I’m kayak fishing, I want to be as tactical and stealthy as possible,” he says. “I don’t want to put more in the water than I have to. If you’re into lots of vegetation and stumps, you can’t use the motor anyway.”

Jessica Norris’ catch of the day kayaking on the Coosa

In a sit-in kayak, be prepared to use a different set of muscles while casting, as opposed to those you’d use performing the same activity while standing. “Casting and aiming are very different when you are sitting,” says Norris.

 “It’s very strenuous.  A lot of people would describe kayak fishing as intense.” Being so close to the water and to the fish adds to the intensity of the fishing experience, Norris explains. “You can get close to the nooks and crannies that boats can’t, places where the fish really are.”

Adding to the excitement, he says, “You feel every movement on a catch in a kayak. You can also see the movement of wildlife and fish along the shore as you move through the shallow areas in coves and among boathouses and piers. Kayaks are perfect for wildlife photography, for exercise, and for just getting out and enjoying the water,” he adds. “The tranquility and therapy are very real.”

Josh Tidwell agrees wholeheartedly. He’s a huge fan of kayaking and fishing. He’s combined the two for more than 25 years and now runs a kayak rental and tour company at Big Wills Creek, a tributary to Neely Henry Lake. “It’s quite a bit of fun,” he says. “You get to be out in nature and even if you’re not catching, you’re still enjoying nature.”

Tidwell, an accomplished tournament fisherman, began fishing nearly three decades ago from creeks and riverbanks, either wading or by canoe. Kayak fishing made it easier for him to get to the tight places he wanted to fish. “Bass boats can’t get to where I go,” he says. “I like to fish smaller waters. I don’t want to look at the back of somebody’s house, when I could be looking at cliffs or waterfalls.”

Although he says he likes small water fishing, he says, kayaks are not just for lake fishing. He took his kayak to Gulf Shores a few years ago and hooked a 6-foot shark. His brother-in-law caught a 150–200-pound tarpon.  For reasons which seem obvious, they did not try to bring it aboard their kayaks. “We got dragged all over the place. That’s part of the appeal,” he laughed. “You just have to prepare for it. And don’t go alone!”

The Coosa River system offers a variety of fish, from crappie to catfish, to several species of bass, including the Alabama bass. “On Logan Martin, I’ve pulled in a 15-pound channel catfish in my kayak,” says Norris. “I’ve seen a 50-75-pound catfish pulled in, unfortunately not by me.”

Strategies for success in kayak fishing are somewhat different, Norris explains. “We attack fishing in a very different way. We don’t fish the open waters as much as we do the tighter places. Where the bass boat world is launch as fast as possible, get to your spots as fast as possible, and cover lots of water. We might launch and stay near that launch fishing the harder to get places and cover only a mile or two.”

No matter what type of vessel you use or how you fish, all nautical rules apply. Kayaks are no exception. Before sunrise and after sunset, kayaks must have a stern light. The same holds true for red and green navigation lights. These are especially important for kayaks, which sit lower in the water and are harder to see.

Equipment add-ons for safety and for convenience and comfort make kayaking an activity perfect for anyone ages 5 to 95. Your grandpa’s kayak may have given you the inspiration to learn, but it is definitely not the only design option anymore. Today’s kayaks are lighter and stronger. They offer options in how they are propelled, how you fit into it and how you maneuver it. They can be outfitted for whatever activity you want to do on the water.

A final reminder that whatever fun you’re having in a kayak, be sure to remember safety is paramount. Alabama law requires all boaters, including kayakers to have a personal floatation device onboard for each occupant.

While it’s not required that boaters wear them, it’s a good idea. It’s also a good idea to always include water, a hat, and sunscreen in your float plan.

You may catch a beautiful sunrise, too, so don’t forget your camera. And give a wave to the lady sipping coffee on the dock as you drift by.

Lighting the way for kayaking

Chad Watts knows all too well how hard kayaks are to see in the dark. Several years ago, while fishing in a tournament on Lake Jordan, he nearly ran over a kayaker.

They were fishing at what is considered “safe light,” just as it is getting light enough to see, but before the sun has risen. “I was running 75 miles an hour toward a wide cove. There was a piece of land that jutted out about 30 feet, so I couldn’t see around the other side of it until I got almost even with it,” said Watts.

“By that time, I was doing about 60. When I came around, there was a kayaker 20 yards from my boat. How I avoided running completely over the top of him, I don’t know. I was so rattled, I couldn’t fish.”

Watts went to check on the kayaker and wound up talking to him for 30 minutes (in the middle of the tournament). What came from the experience was a friendship and a product that makes kayak fishing safer.

Watts started Firefly Marine, a company out of Trussville, that produces the Firefly stern light. The difference in their product over what was available previously is both the height of the light (telescopes to over 9 feet) and the material of the light (refracting plastic to eliminate blinding light).