One fish, two fish... arm in, catfish.
It was just me and my Canon SLR heading down to Pauls Valley. I typically attend events solo; however, a wingman (or two) would have been delightful. Next year, I'll be scheduling an entire caravan for this event.
Maybe we should take a few steps back. What is noodling? Well, noodling is the art of fishing for catfish with one's bare hands. Does this terrify anyone else? My goodness, it sends chills down my spine.
Just look at these girls! If they can stick their arms into a hole underwater, wrestle that ginormous fish and look fashionable in their purple gloves, surely I could do it?
Nope, nope, nope.
That fish is bigger than that child!
The Okie Noodling Festival fills that certain void most Oklahomans feel this time of year. The rush of the NBA Finals is behind us, and we're still 68 days away from college football. So is it any wonder I found comfort in the sight of tailgates nudged into every possible nook and cranny of Wacker Park in Pauls Valley?
During the event, live noodling demonstrations entertained the crowd. Watching through the side panels was as close as I needed to be to the main event. Children "Ooohhhh'd" and "Awww'd" as the catfish were displayed in a Lion King-esque throwback.
As I wiped my glistening brow, I reassured myself this was just nature's way of giving me that summer glow I read so much about in Cosmo.
Let's break down this event. The heroic fishermen (and fisherwomen) fish all day all over Oklahoma with their hands – and have their monstrous fish back to Pauls Valley before the 6 p.m. weigh-in deadline.
How does one participate in the festival without participating in the tournament? For starters, you bring your lawn chairs, more relaxed and a few of your favorite friends to tailgate all day. The four tires on my SUV rolled into Pauls Valley around 3, and I was hours late to the party.
Second, you eat a lot of barbecue while listening to the band covering Waylon and Willie on stage.
It wouldn't be an Oklahoma event worthy of a blog post if we didn't take a moment to discuss the band's quality. If there's one thing we do well in Chickasaw Country, it's the quality of our bands. Have you heard of Beau Jennings?
My claim to pseudo fame doesn't come from my concert-going escapades; however, I've been to enough to recognize quality, and Beau Jennings has that spark. The spark that takes you back to that hot summer night in college when you were spinning around on the dance floor.
Except this Saturday, we danced around hundreds of tailgaters as they left their chairs to catch a close-up view of a gigantic catfish. Honestly, it's like a rock concert, the way people rally around the fence as the fishermen bring in their catches.
Encouraged by the crew, each handler proudly displayed their fish to the crowd. Mesmerized by the crowd's engagement, I posted up by the speakers near the stage. It was safe there. Close enough to the music feeding my soul and far away from the handlers being summoned to the weighed-in area, a crowd growing in numbers with each additional weigh-in.
To this lovely individual: care to share your photo? Your angle is a little better than mine. Also, you're blocking the view of that 71-pound fish!
Yes, seventy-one (and a few decimal places) pounds.
I get it now. I understand the fascination with reality television shows, the cheering and the hype. It's utterly fascinating that someone would blindly reach their hand into a hole and pull out this fish. Is it even a fish, or is it a prehistoric dinosaur fooling us all?
Next year, you will be at this event. Trust me; you want to be there.
Comments