How To Catch Fish and Trap Crabs – Part 3
June 2, 2007 – Anchored off Mound Island in the Broughton Archipelago, the first crabs are trapped. We are almost to Port Hardy and finally are in crab country! Our first haul is 2 crabs both male and both just over legal size. We are on a roll, and The First Mate is happily planning a variety of crab menus from simple steamed crabs and butter to crab quiche and chowder. Oh, the delights she has planned! Will our refrigerator and freezer hold it all?
.
The larger crab in this orange bucket is a Dungeness. The smaller one is a Rock Crab. The First Mate was not at all pleased with the Rock Crab because when dumped in with his mate, he proceeded to attack the Dungeness and pinch off one of its legs. She reasons that since they are both in this stew together, this sure is not the time to get aggressive!
.
She eagerly awaits the next morning and the next haul. Three large female Dungeness. You are not allowed to keep females. Back in the water they go. Now, you’re probably wondering how does one tell male from female crabs. You turn a crab over to examine its belly. The male’s abdomen is shaped roughly like a lighthouse. He’s the one on the bottom of this photo. The female’s, in contrast, is wide and broad. (Another one of Mother Nature’s absurdities). We watch a crab boat come in and haul up a few traps. Oh, the dismay when The First Mate sees their traps heaping with crabs, but then she notices that most of their crabs are being thrown back in the water. Obviously, they are either undersized or female. She feels better.
.
Next morning, only 1 undersized crab is in her trap. It does not matter whether it is male or female because size is the first determining factor in keeping a catch.
.
Wednesday, June 6th – After a miserable crossing of Queen Charlotte Strait, we end up in a delightful anchorage called Green Island Cove. In the middle of deep green foliage, there is an island of bright green.
.
The Captain swings out and drops our trap in a promising looking spot. The First Mate has sweetened the contents of the orange bait box with squid and salmon skin. That ought to bring the crabs running.
.
Instead, to her shock, dismay and revulsion, the next morning, we bring up a monster from the deep. It’s a creature neither of us can identify. It looks like a cross between a starfish and an octopus. It’s got more arms than either of us can count. There’s one undersized crab in the trap with him, and the poor thing looks about ready to die of fright. This creature probably eats crab for breakfast and burps out the shells. We (notice the “we”) gingerly disentangle it from the webbing, drop the creature back in and hope never to see another one except in a picture book of odd creatures of the deep.
.
The next haul is an even larger one of those things. This one has itself glued to and wrapped around the bait box. We now figure that, if one of these things gets anywhere near the trap, any crab in its right mind is going to head in the opposite direction.
.
The First Mate cannot believe her luck. How do you discourage these creatures and bring on the crabs? The Captain says that the next one we catch we’re going to cut off one of its legs and stick it in the bait box. He remembers, vaguely, someone talking about these creatures and saying that, since they don’t eat their own kind, they will avoid a trap with one of their buddy’s body parts in it. She cannot believe anything this ugly would be so particular, but she does know for sure that the “we” who cuts off one of its legs is not going to be “her”!
In between all this unsuccessful crabbing, The First Mate continues with her fishing exercises. The Captain finally takes pity on her efforts or perhaps he just can’t stand watching what is going on in the name of fishing. He picks up her “103 Fishing Secrets” and quickly realizes that the reason she cannot make sense out of it is that it assumes the reader is already a fisher person, which, as we all now know, she is not.
.
He tells her that her knots are not very good, and, when shortly thereafter, she loses a lure at the first tug, he tells her that he thought her knot wasn’t going to hold. In frustration, she questions that, if he knew her knot wasn’t right, why didn’t he fix it? He responds that he is not an expert fisherman like her book author. Realizing that wasn’t exactly the best thing to say, he sits down and re-rigs the whole contraption for her using his idea of correctly tied knots.
.
At a rainy day lunch stop in Sullivan Bay, we talk to a great fisher person. We buy several different types of lures and something that looks like part of a baby’s crib mobile. The fisher person tells us that we could make one out of a coat hanger, but The Captain figures that for $4.00 he’d rather buy it than make it. It’s supposed to be used to go “jigging” for Halibut. Sounds like we’re off to some country barn dance or something!
So, we continue to crab and fish, unsuccessfully, but hopefully. At least, it now looks like The Captain, who enjoyed eating the two crabs we caught, is starting to come around and participate. We are in it together – for better or worse, for richer or poorer, etc., etc!