380 anglers. Two barrier islands. A hurricane in the Gulf. And $10,000 reasons to go fishing.
Amanda and Will at sunrise
GEAR UP
The Great Mullet Shortage of 2026
We hadn't even made it to St. Simons Island, and already we had a problem.
There was a mullet shortage.
Not exactly the kind of headline that makes national news, but when you're headed to Georgia's Golden Isles for the Running of the Bulls Charity Redfish Surf Fishing Tournament, a shortage of fresh mullet is serious business.
In the days leading up to the tournament, Tom Lewis, co-founder of the Kids Can Fish Foundation, had been sending emails warning participants that bait was becoming increasingly difficult to find. This wasn't a rumor. It was a very real shortage, and anyone planning to fish needed to secure their supply before arriving on the island.
Apparently, we weren't the only ones chasing bull reds. Everybody was chasing mullet, too.
Oh, and did I mention there was also a hurricane?
A Category 3 hurricane was threatening the Gulf Coast, with Pensacola, Florida, in its projected path. Naturally, this was the same weekend my wife, Amanda, my stepson, Will (aka Kaiser Wilhelm), and I were headed to the coast for two days of surf fishing.
I've watched The Perfect Storm with George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg enough times to appreciate the irony. There's a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, and rather than driving away from the coast, I'm packing up fishing gear and heading toward it.
To be fair, St. Simons Island is on the Atlantic side, and judging by the projected path of the storm, I figured we might actually be better off there than staying home in Atlanta.
Still, between the hurricane and the Great Mullet Shortage of 2026, I was beginning to wonder whether Mother Nature was trying to tell us something.
It wouldn’t be the last time I ignored the obvious signs.
We had bull reds to catch.
A Parking Lot Transaction
Brined pogie and 5 oz Sputnik
With bait supplies dwindling, I called Capt.Dave Madray of Georgia Saltwater Adventures, hoping he might have a solution.
Dave told me to meet him in the parking lot of Odum General Store. He'd "hook me up."
Now, I've never been involved on either side of a drug deal, but I've watched enough true-crime documentaries and crime dramas to have a pretty good idea of what one looks like.
And meeting a fishing captain in a parking lot to score some mullet felt suspiciously close.
Only instead of molly, meth or Special K, Dave was moving bait.
And boy, did he hook me up.
Without a hint of surge pricing, Dave showed up with a bag of frozen brined pogies, two packs of finger mullet, and some squid. But the bait was only half the value. Dave also came bearing some local fishing wisdom.
The frozen bait could be cut into smaller pieces to catch whiting, bluefish, or ladyfish. Those smaller fish could then become fresh cut bait for the bull reds we were hoping to encounter.
In other words, we had bait to catch bait to catch bigger fish.
Dave also offered another strategy. Throw a whole squid out into the surf. Sure, smaller trash fish might peck away at it, but a hungry bull red wouldn't hesitate to swallow the whole thing.
Before we parted ways, Dave offered one more lifeline. His buddy owns Shucks Seafood just down the road in Jesup, Georgia, and had mullet available for five dollars a pound. With two full days of fishing ahead, Dave recommended picking up another five pounds for Sunday.
Sounded simple enough.
Size Matters. Apparently.
When I arrived at Shucks, I asked for five pounds of mullet.
They handed me three fish weighing a little over five pounds combined.
Now, I've seen plenty of mullet in my life, but never anything quite like these. Each one weighed more than a pound and a half and was roughly the size of my forearm.
These weren't baitfish. These looked like they should have names.
I smiled, paid my $25 and change, tossed them in the ice chest, and immediately called Dave.
"Dave, I got the mullet. Everything's fine, but these things are HUGE."
He didn't miss a beat.
"Oh, James, that's great! Just cut 'em up into big ol' chunks. And if you think it's too big, I promise you, it's probably not big enough."
He went on to explain how to rig them. Run the hook through the meat and out through the skin. And whatever you do, make sure there isn't a scale stuck on the tip of the hook. Get that scale off before you throw it out into the water.
Apparently, when you're targeting bull reds, subtlety isn't part of the strategy.
Rules of Engagement
Of course, catching a bull red is only half the battle.
The Running of the Bulls tournament comes with a 17-page rulebook, and these folks aren't messing around.
Fishing is limited to designated stretches of beach on St. Simons and Jekyll Islands. Anglers can fish with two rods, using circle hooks and reels no smaller than a 5000 series.
Fishing starts at 7:30 Saturday morning and continues until 7:00 that evening. Sunday's fishing wraps up at 3:30.
And then there's the documentation.
Actually, it's more like producing a documentary.
Every qualifying catch has to be recorded on video, complete with your name, division, a daily identification code, proof of your location, and evidence that the fish is alive. You have to show both sides, count its spots, document the measurement, and release it alive.
Then you upload the original, unedited video to the tournament's official ROTBFacebook group before the deadline, along with photos of both sides of the fish.
Miss the deadline? Doesn't count.
Fish outside the designated boundaries? Disqualified.
Use the wrong measuring device? Doesn't count.
And not just any measuring device will do. The tournament requires the official Rapala 60-inch Magnum Folding Ruler. No substitutes.
The fish must be measured from the tip of its nose to the fork of its tail, rounded up to the nearest quarter inch.
Even the spots have rules. Two spots touching each other count as one.
Apparently, fishing skills alone won't win this tournament. You also need a measuring board, a cameraman, a decent internet connection, and a working knowledge of Facebook.
But with a $10,000 first-place prize on the line, a little documentation isn't too much to ask.
More Than a Fishing Tournament
Behind all the competition is the Kids Can Fish Foundation, founded by Tom Lewis and his daughter, Caroline.
What began as a shared passion for fishing has grown into something much bigger: an opportunity to bring families together, introduce young people to the outdoors, and create memories that last long after the fishing rods have been put away.
Every Columbus Day weekend, the foundation brings hundreds of anglers and their families to Georgia's Golden Isles for Running of the Bulls, a charity surf fishing tournament that's as much about the next generation as it is about catching big fish.
The tournament includes adult and youth divisions, with cash prizes for the longest qualifying redfish.
There's also a Calcutta competition, where the number of spots on a fish, rather than its length, determines the winner.
And because everybody loves an underdog, there's even a prize for the smallest qualifying redfish, affectionately known as the Baby Bull.
That's right. In a tournament dedicated to catching giant bull reds, you can also earn bragging rights for catching the little guy.
But what makes the event special is the opportunity for kids and adults to share the experience. Young anglers get to compete, learn, and spend time on the water with family and friends.
If you want to learn more about Tom, Caroline, the Kids Can Fish Foundation, and the story behind Running of the Bulls, listen to our Retire Southern podcast episode:
For our family, that was reason enough to make the trip.
And with the bait secured, the rods packed, and the hurricane hopefully keeping its distance, we were finally ready to head to St. Simons Island.
The fishing hadn't started.
And already, we had ourselves a fish story.
SURF'S UP
Two Islands. Two Days. One Big Fish.
Base camp, East Beach & 11th Street, SSI
I've caught plenty of redfish over the years, from a boat.
But I've never caught a bull red from the surf.
Call it my white whale.
I've tried multiple times, without success. And while I wasn't expecting to win $10,000, I was hoping this might finally be the weekend I crossed that particular experience off my bucket list.
Armed with Capt. Dave's oversized mullet, a couple of surf rods, and what was probably an unreasonable amount of optimism, I liked our chances.
After all, how hard could it be?
As it turns out, pretty damn hard.
Saturday morning marked the beginning of the competition.
Across St. Simons and Jekyll Islands, anglers headed for the beaches carrying surf rods, tackle boxes, coolers, sand spikes, and enough bait to last 12 hours.
The target was the bull redfish, a large adult red drum that hits and fights like a freight train.
Unlike fishing from a boat, where you can move around looking for fish, surf fishing is largely a waiting game. You choose your spot, read the tides, study the troughs, holes, and cuts, cast your bait, and hope something big finds it.
For the Running of the Bulls, the challenge was compounded by the tournament's strict boundaries and catch-and-release requirements.
Every fish had to be handled carefully, measured correctly, documented thoroughly, and returned to the water alive.
And with hundreds of anglers spread across two islands, there was plenty of competition.
Unfortunately, my eastbound-and-down bait run through Wayne County was all for naught.
We caught just about everything but redfish.
Gafftop catfish. Sharpnose sharks. Even a large bonnethead shark that bent the rod hard enough to convince me, at least momentarily, that my white whale had finally arrived.
No such luck.
Not a single redfish.
Nothing for the leaderboard.
My white whale lives to fight another day.
All the more reason to return.
PARTY DOWN
Twenty-One Bull Reds. Three Hundred Eighty Anglers.
The winners circle. Photo courtesy of Kids Can Fish.
By Sunday afternoon, the fishing was over.
The 2026 Running of the Bulls had attracted 380 anglers, and according to the Kids Can Fish Foundation, 21 bull reds were caught over the two-day competition.
The qualifying leaderboard showed a remarkably even split between the islands: 11 fish from St. Simons and 10 from Jekyll.
Not exactly a feeding frenzy.
But that's part of what makes landing a bull red from the surf so rewarding.
The weekend also produced $24,000 in cash prizes, distributed across the adult and youth divisions and specialty competitions.
Big Fish. Bigger Stakes.
Tournament winners Ben Johnson (Adult) and Wyatt Farland (Youth). Photo courtesy of Kids Can Fish.
The adult championship went to Ben Johnson, who landed a 41-inch bull red and took home the $10,000 grand prize.
In the youth division, Wyatt Farland claimed the championship with a 39-inch redfish, earning $1,400.
Both champions received carved wooden redfish trophies, fitting keepsakes for a tournament dedicated to one of the South's most iconic game fish.
The adult Calcutta paid $5,145. The winning redfish sported an impressive 24 spots.
The youth Calcutta winner received a 13-foot surf fishing combo.
But one of my favorite images from the weekend wasn't of a giant redfish or a winning measurement.
It was the group of young anglers gathered at the awards ceremony, proudly holding oversized checks, surrounded by family, volunteers, and sponsors.
Some had won hundreds of dollars. Others had earned new fishing equipment. All had something to celebrate.
And for an organization called Kids Can Fish, that photograph says more about the tournament's purpose than any leaderboard ever could.
The Real Prize
Three hundred eighty anglers. Twenty-one bull reds. Twenty-four thousand dollars in cash prizes.
Impressive numbers. But they don't tell the whole story.
They don't tell you about the people who volunteer their time to organize an event like this. The sponsors who make the prizes possible. The parents who spend a weekend on the beach helping their children compete.
Or a fishing captain who meets you in a parking lot to make sure you've got enough bait to give yourself a fighting chance.
That's what I appreciate about experiences like Running of the Bulls.
You arrive hoping to catch a fish.
You leave with a story.
And sometimes, that's worth more than whatever you might have caught.
Life's too short to wait for someday.