Fast Cats on the Tennessee

The swift water pushed the boat farther and farther down the river as I racked my brain for an acceptable answer as to why I’d put myself in this precarious position. Cinching the life vest as tight as it would go, I looked back at the looming concrete mass glaring down on us. But as my graphite rod slapped the side of the boat again, the tip in the water and the line taut, the possibility of danger seemed to vanish as quickly as it arrived. Catfish on!

We’d started down from southern Tennessee earlier that morning.

“The dams are running. Let’s get ‘em,” Ringo yelled from the driver’s seat of his truck. I swallowed the last sip of coffee and headed towards the shed to grab my fishing tackle.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to bed!” I quipped. “Where do you think I’m going?”

“We don’t have all day, and plus I’ve got everything you could need already in the boat, which if you haven’t noticed, I’ve already hooked up too!” A friend of Ringo’s had graciously lent us his boat, which we’d been keeping ready for nearly a week, waiting for this day to arrive.

Perhaps I was a bit groggy that morning because I hadn’t noticed his truck towing anything. I thought he was just coming to shoot the breeze. “Well, at least let me grab my wallet and fishing license.”

The launch in Guntersville, Alabama was an hour’s drive. Guntersville Dam was another few minutes upriver where the generators were running wide-open. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Late summer. Midweek. Fast-action fishing. Good friend. Cold beer. Twist my rubber arm.

We stopped at a bait shop/gas station to buy four cartons of chicken livers, extra 5/0 circle hooks, egg weights, hoop cheese, bologna, crackers, and other catfishing essentials. After topping off the fuel tank, we pulled back on to Highway 231 and proceeded on down the road…still in a hurry. It wasn’t until we idled away from the launch that the pace began to slow, if only for a few minutes. There wasn’t another boat in sight as we reached the main channel and turned upriver, headed for the dam.

“Let’s hit a couple spots along the way just to warm up,” Ringo said.

“Fine by me.”

We caught a few keepers right off the bat, maybe 10 minutes apart, dodged a rain storm under the comfort of a low-hanging cliff, and then watched a Bald Eagle sail high above to the surrounding bluffs. Surely a good omen, I thought.

“Well, what do you say we head on up and do what we came here for?” Ringo asked, rigging up another rod. “You’d better do the same. The action is going to be fast.”

The Guntersville Dam is operated by the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA). On their website, TVA posts the daily water release, which includes the time frame and how many generators will be running. However, do note that schedules often change without warning. Back to the story…

“Better put this on, too,” Ringo said, handing me a life jacket. “Just in case.”

We each had two rods rigged and baited. As the generators run, chopping up smaller bait fish and literally chumming hordes of blue and channel cats, you’re liable to break off on a sure-enough lunker. We pulled right up to the dam, as close to the turbine chutes as we could get, before dropping our lines. The instant we cut the engine, the boat was shot back downriver in the rapidly flowing water. And the fish were biting just as hard and just as fast.

Before I knew it, the livewell was full to the brim. Even though I’d already been through nearly a pack of hooks and weights, seeming to break off every few times I put my bait in the water, the smile on my face just wouldn’t quit. Afterwards, I told Ringo that it felt like I’d been in a brawl. Everything happened so fast, there were a lot bodies going everywhere, and then it was over.

As you might guess, the next night we rounded up friends and ate our weight in fried catfish and hushpuppies. I’m already politicking for someone’s boat when I head up there in a few weeks.

If you go: Having a fishing license, boating license, and boat registration should be obvious. Our tackle consisted of the aforementioned 5/0 circle hooks and six-ounce egg weights, on 10-pound monofilament (this, I should mention, was much too light to fight a catfish in the heavy current–I suggest using 25-pound). A good ol’ spinning reel or bait-caster is ideal, but most of you reading this have probably already figured that out by now. Be very cautious of the water levels and output. If you own a smartphone, check the local website frequently whenever you’re fishing near a dam. Above all, have fun and try your best to slow down and enjoy the moment, though I bid you good luck there. Days like that only happen every so often.

Josh Wolfe

It didn’t take long for me, following in my father’s footsteps (literally), to develop a deep appreciation for the outdoors. Because it’s there in the wind, in the rain and a cool summer sunrise where I’ve learned more than in all the classrooms combined. My journalistic work is the sum of all I’ve taken from the outdoors and all I want to give back.

It was during a long, grueling two-year stint working as a banker in Huntsville, Alabama, I finally realized I needed to follow my dreams. After sojourning several places across the country, I now call Asheville, North Carolina, home, where I am the co-founder, publisher and editor of The Golf Sport (www.golfsportmag.com) magazine and editor of Sporting Classics Daily (www.sportingclassicsdaily.com). I am also a contributor to OutdoorHub and Global Outfitters, and hope to really inflate that balloon over the next couple years.

For me, it’s the power of the pen that makes the outdoor adventure live forever – as it is resurrected on the page in front of me. I am so fortunate to be a part of the outdoor community and make my passion a career.