Scuba gear is key to diving for big catfish in badin, high rock lakes.
Paul Cleveland of Charlotte doesn’t fit the preconceptions of a guy who grabs for catfish.
He’s not a tobacco-chewing good ol’ boy, ready made for a Jeff Foxworthy comedy skit. He’s an articulate individual with the sculptured frame of an athlete who is national sales manager for a firm that services Lowe’s corporate headquarters.
He’s not foolish either, although “noodling” derives from the word noodle, meaning a silly or stupid person — an appropriate term for someone who extracts catfish from undercut banks bare-handed. A big catfish has a bite powerful enough to crush fingers, and its sharp spines can inflict painful wounds.
Worse yet, a catfish grabber can’t see what he’s grabbing. He could grab a snake, snapping turtle, or other critter capable of causing great harm.
But Cleveland has taken noodling, a primitive fish-catching method, to a new level, though not necessarily a safer one. He doesn’t jump half-naked into the water and grab blindly for catfish. Instead, he uses scuba gear and protective gloves, and he creates his own catfish holes from wooden boxes and water heater tanks — following the lead of his late uncle, Tom Cleveland, a former Mississippi game and fish commissioner who took him noodling when he was a teenager.
“My uncle was the first one to employ scuba gear and catfish boxes for noodling,” said Cleveland, who builds his own catfish boxes from plywood or discarded water-heater tanks. They have only one entrance/exit and feature holes so air pockets can’t form inside them; that makes them uninhabitable for snakes, turtles and other unwanted lake dwellers.
When Cleveland moved to North Carolina, he discovered noodling was legal and contacted Fred Harris, former head of the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission’s Division of Inland Fisheries to make sure catfish boxes were legal.
“I told Harris the boxes would be deep and out of the way of boats, with no traps or baits, and would serve as breeding boxes for catfish,” Cleveland said. “The fish could come and go as they pleased.
“Harris told me that what I was doing was legal, but he thought I was out of my mind. He said I was the only one in the state he knew of that used scuba gear for noodling.
“I later met the David Miles family from Albemarle who grabbed for cats, and introduced them to scuba gear, and after two years, the Miles family converted to using air tanks.”
Although Cleveland got the go-ahead for boxes, he encountered one snag. For five years, he not only purchased a fishing license, but he had to pay another $100 for a commercial special fishing-device license for noodling.
“Eventually, the (Commission) made a ruling about what I was doing and concluded I did not need to buy the special fishing-device license, because I was not baiting or setting out traps, but creating fish habitat,” said Cleveland, who also cleared his devices with Alcoa’s Yadkin Inc. division that operates hydroelectric plants at High Rock and Badin.
Cleveland has 60 boxes in Badin and High Rock submerged in eight to 12 feet of water and anchored with rocks. He locates them with shoreline indicators, not GPS units.
Holding the boxes fast with rocks is essential.
“Catfish will not stay in a box if it shakes or moves about,” said Cleveland, who determines the best locations for boxes by trial and error and maintains a detailed record of his boxes, their dimensions, their locations, and the number and size of cats they have yielded over the years. If boxes don’t produce, they’re relocated to areas similar to places where other boxes have produced.
Modifications in designs and sizes of boxes have produced a higher average yield of fish each year.
His boxes sport names such as: 911, Torpedo, Breadbox, Leaning Tree, Suicide Tank, Hell Hole and Booger Hole. Each box simulates a hollowed log, a catfish’s nesting area. The male catfish enters and cleans out the “nest” and brings a female back for the spawning ritual. After the female lays eggs and leaves, the male remains and becomes aggressive.
Cleveland enters the water in scuba gear and slides into the entrance of the box, bracing his legs, knees, and shoulders against its sides. His hands remain free to grab an angry catfish that wants out.
His equipment includes a 10-foot copper rod blunted at the end to prod the box. If a catfish is home, it will bolt from the box like a torpedo and into Cleveland’s waiting lap. He grabs the cat to control it, then slides a rope through the fish’s mouth and out through its gills. One end of the rope is tied to a floating tetherball; the other end, once it’s strung through the catfish, clips onto the copper rod. Cleveland lets go of the catfish, but he holds the rod to keep the catfish and tetherball from moving elsewhere.
Despite the innovations, noodling remains a dangerous sport.
“If you noodle long enough, you will get hurt,” Cleveland said.
Besides cuts, bruises, and broken fingers, the greatest hazard is drowning or getting knocked unconscious by an unruly cat.
“Although you brace yourself for the impact, cats weighing 30 pounds or more can knock you over and right out of the box,” Cleveland said. “I nearly blacked out when a catfish hit me in the face and broke my goggles; they cut my face and filled with blood. “When things go bad, they go bad fast.”
The meanest cat in the box is a blue catfish.
“A blue is all strength and muscle,” Cleveland said. “Comparing the power of a blue to a flathead catfish is like comparing a poodle to a pit bull. A blue is much more aggressive and nasty. It will chomp on your feet and try to pull you into the box.
“Even after it’s strung on the rope, a blue will try to attack your face and eyes. Worse yet, if a blue is in a catfish box, the fish gives no warning until it’s upon you. A flathead gives away its presence with a drumming sound.”
Because of the dangers, Cleveland often goes noodling with a buddy, T.J. Penninger of New London, and they have distress signals for emergencies.
While Cleveland has been noodling for almost 30 years, Penninger has been grabbing for catfish for only eight years under the tutelage of Cleveland.
“The first year, I instructed T.J. constantly about noodling,” Cleveland said. “Following the second year of training, he became efficient at it. After the fourth year, he knew everything I could teach him, and he’s an expert at this sport.”
Cleveland wants Penninger to promote noodling once Cleveland hangs up his scuba gear.
“I don’t know how many more years I can do this because of the physical abuse I’ve endured from noodling,” said Cleveland whose goal is to set state records for blue and flathead catfish before he retires. “The records won’t count because they must be set with rod and reel, but the records are personal goals I’ve set for myself.”
Cleveland has accomplished one goal he thought he’d never achieve. While a catfish box usually holds only one or two catfish, on rare occasions, three fish will stay in the same container.
Penninger has caught triples twice, but Cleveland never accomplished the feat until a few years ago in August, when he scored his own hat trick, catfish style. At High Rock Lake, he wrestled three flathead catfish out of one box. They weighed 35, 30, and 21 pounds for a total of 86 pounds.
“One fish hit me in the gut; I felt another at my legs; and I couldn’t believe it when a third fish came out,” Cleveland said. “In more than 25 years of noodling, that’s the only triple I have caught.”
Cleveland’s records indicate that the best time for noodling at High Rock and Badin is from Memorial Day weekend through the second week of August, when the water temperature ranges from 78 to 88 degrees. Once the water temperature falls below 78 degrees or rises above 88 degrees, fish leave the boxes.
Over a period of years, Cleveland and Penninger’s average “noodling” catfish was between 29 and 30 pounds. They release all fish over 30 pounds and keep only a few small cats for the frying pan.
“The fishing gets better, with bigger fish each year,” Cleveland said.
For Cleveland, grabbing for catfish is a passion and a reward in itself.
“I’ve never taken a penny for noodling trips, and have donated fund-raising trips to Ducks Unlimited and several charities,” he said. “Once you sell your passion, it’s no longer a passion; it becomes a job.”
DESTINATION INFORMATION
WHERE TO NOODLE — Fishermen can grab for catfish at any lake in North Carolina, but Paul Cleveland noodles at High Rock and Badin because they’re convenient and are home to plenty of big catfish. High Rock is south of Lexington between US 29 and NC 8, with public boat ramps off NC 8 on the east side of the lake and off Bringles Ferry Rd. on the west side. Badin is two reservoirs downstream from High Rock, southwest of Denton. The Circle Drive Access is off Beaver Dam Road is on the lake’s northeastern side, and the Old Whitney Access is off Old Whitney Rd. via NC 740 in New London on the southwest side of the lake.
WHEN TO NOODLE — Memorial Day weekend through second week of August.
TECHNIQUES — Traditional noodlers grab for catfish under ledges, in holes and beneath cut banks. Modern practitioners employ scuba gear, protective gloves and construct their own catfish boxes.
REGULATIONS — Regulations and restrictions related to noodling vary from state to state. Noodlers should check with local fish and game agencies before engaging in this sport.
CAUTION — Noodling can cause serious injury and even death from drowning. Beginning noodlers should be under the tutelage of experienced noodlers.
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