It has been my practice to visit my home in Newfoundland every year or so since leaving in 1960, along with many others who were looking for a more secure way of life at that time. It was always a pleasure to go out in the small boats and jig for cod, as I did in my childhood days. In the years leading up to the turn of the century, however, moratoriums and such made these adventures a thing of the past.

It was with great delight then, that in the spring of 2009, I accepted an invitation to tag along on a bigger boat on a trip to the snow crab gathering grounds of the South Coast. My visit home this year coincided with the extended date for the crab closing season, and with the weather cooperating, I was on hand to go on Sunday June 7, 2009.

The first leg of the journey begins at Baine Harbour. At 6:00 pm, I arrive at the home of Phyllis and Donald Pike (skipper). Soon their son Lyndon (crewman) and Joseph Brushett (crewman/cook) arrive and we all pile into the skipper’s Chevy pickup for the 1 ½ hour drive to St. Lawrence. This is the working port for approximately 50 craft that congregate from a smattering of ports in Placentia Bay and beyond. The reason being, this port is depot central for this area, and has the needed supplies, fuel, ice, water, bait etc. Also, it has the buyers of crab and is in close proximity to the crab grounds.

Upon our arrival at St. Lawrence, the Stephanie Darren is tethered to the outside of another Baine Harbour vessel, the Garland G; we have to clamber over its deck to reach our vessel with our two nights' supply of provisions, etc.

A short description and history of the S/D is that this 15-ton blue-and-white vessel was built mostly by Mr. Pike, with the “stem" being “moored” out of the ground in the Gander area of Newfoundland. Her metal-fabricated superstructure and railings were done exclusively by him. With an l.O.A. of 38’ and 13’ 8” beam, this wood-with-fibreglass-overlay vessel is extremely sturdy. With two antiroll stabilizer “fish” engaged, her 250 Cummins diesel engine can push her through heavy seas at a respectful 8 knots per hour.

First order of business on boarding finds Lyndon and Joe below decks building up the “pens” with 4’ by 6” boards to contain ice and crab. When this task is completed, we manoeuvre to the depot pier where ice, fuel water and bait are taken on. Ice is needed, of course, to keep the catch cold and fresh on its way from sea to depot.

These chores are all taken care of by 8:30 pm, and we chug back to an empty berth at dockside, where we tie up and await the appropriate time to leave for the crab grounds. A pre-departure nap is now suggested, and we all retire to the forecastle. There is ample standing room here, as well as two upper and two lower vee berths, and a larger beam berth, which the skipper occupies. An oil heater makes this below-deck sanctuary very cozy and soon all are fast asleep. Sometime later, a soft rain hitting the skylight and deck awakens me for a short time, but the sound soon lulled me back to dreamland.

At 2:30 a.m., the big diesel snaps me out of a sound sleep, but the gentle boat motion and engine drone soon have me snoring once again. An hour later, I am awakened by being literally lifted off my berth by the violent pitching and rising of the S/D as we are going through some very choppy water. No more sleep. It may be for my benefit, but as I scramble on deck, the skipper, along with Lyndon and Joe, tells me that with nine-foot swells, the going indeed is rough. I am inclined to agree with them, as they also state if the seas do not abate, they may not be able to retrieve their gear “pots.”

I am not expected to stand watch on this voyage, but notice that the crew take cat naps, as such, with two up and one down for approximately one-hour intervals. Neither, I am told, am I allowed to touch or interfere in any way with gear or catch. With tongue in cheek, I am referred to as the “journalist “or “unofficial observer.”

At 5:30 am, we are approximately 20 miles from port and we heave to, as Joe busies himself in the galley. Shortly after, a breakfast of fried bologna, eggs, toast and coffee is served. At 6:30 the S/D is pointed to the nearest buoy, approximately five miles farther out. During this time, Lyndon and Joe disappear below deck to ready ice and pens to accommodate the anticipated catch.

A few words now pertaining to snow crab pots, associated ropes, moorings, buoys, etc. Pots are conical in shape, of metal construction, covered in netting with 5 ¼" mesh, measuring 24 inches in height, with a 52-inch-diameter base and a 20-inch-diameter top. Inside the top is a plastic “collar,” where an approximately 1-quart plastic container, punctured with holes, contains the bait (in this case, squid). The holes permit the secretion and odour that attracts the crab, which climb up the outside of the pot, reach in, and subsequently fall into the pot. On the bottom of the pot is a draw string, which is pulled to open the netting which disgorges the catch into a hatch cover/container. Each pot has a potential weigh catch of 200 lbs.

Here the crab is culled for marketability. Many are caught but few are chosen, as nearly half of the catch, being undersized, are released back to the sea to be caught another day. The setting of these pots are as follows: there are 33 pots to a fleet. In 80 to 100 fathoms of water, the first pot has a 100-fathom lead-weighted rope (½ lb. lead approximately every 30 fathoms) with a bright orange fluorescent buoy attached. A fifteen-fathom rope separates these pots, and on the opposite end, there stands an eight-foot-high, radar-reflective buoy known as a “high flyer,” with another 100-fathom lead-weighed rope. A fleet may be retrieved from either end, depending on tide and wind conditions.

Thus, a full fleet of crab pots, strung out, is nearly a half mile in length on the ocean floor. Also it is usually ¾ of a mile separating distance. The crew hooks the orange marker buoy on the first of five fleets at approximately 7:45 a.m. These five fleets were previously brought in from another zone 15 miles farther out in anticipation that this haul might indeed be the last one of the season. Last pot and high flyer hauled aboard at 8:35 with a catch of 10 “pans.” No. 2 approached and completed at 9:45. Catch this time - six pans. No. 3 finished at 10:45. Catch is four pans.

Now it is time for that Newfoundland tradition of the “mug up,” with ham sandwiches made previously by Lyndon and Joe.

No. 4 fleet finished at noon - four pans. No. 5 and last fleet hauled aboard at 1:25 - four pans. At 2:00 p.m., we leave the area with five fleets of crab pots stacked four feet high on the after deck, and arrive at the St. Lawrence depot at 5:45 p.m. This is when the shore crew boards the S/D and separates ice from crab, hoists crab onto weigh scales and discards surplus ice over the side. Total weight of crab is 1,500 lbs., the smallest catch of the season, and decided by the skipper to be the last one.

If the previous weather had permitted, the allotted quota could have been met and one more trip would fulfill same. But the higher price of fuel needed to reap the few hundred lbs makes it cost prohibitive. At 7:30 p.m., the offloading is complete and, once again, fuel & water is taken on for the return trip to Baine Harbour.

Next, we move from the depot to tie up at the dock once again. This is when Joe brings out his pre-cooked (at home) chicken thighs, replete with gravy, fresh mashed potatoes, peas and corn, heated in their respective tins, and placed on the galley table for four hungry men. Joe & Lyndon assist in the cleanup. We sit back and swap a few lies and retire for the night.

6:00 a.m. Tuesday June 9th, I awaken to the aroma from the galley, where a clean-shaven Joe is dishing up ham and eggs, toast and coffee. All in good spirits, and anticipating a pleasant run from St. Lawrence down to Baine Hr. The big diesel roared again at 6:30, and, 10 minutes later, the S/D slips her lines for the last time this season, and noses out of port with the five fleets of pots and nearly five miles of rope on deck.

A noteworthy addition to this story is the orderly and shipshape atmosphere of the S/D. The interior of the on-deck cabin consists of the following: wheelhouse/control centre, which contains the latest navigation equipment. A backup system means two of everything, as in radar, ship-to-shore telephones, depth finders etc. Life raft and flotation devices within easy reach. Galley has a two-burner propane cook stove with oven, sink, countertop and drawers and ample upper and lower cupboards. Living & dining room “saloon” has a drop-down table to seat five, a bench locker settee and a few fold-up bar stools to accommodate extra guests. Washroom/head contains hand pump toilet, vanity with duel taps, and mirror, shower stall, towel racks, etc. Through constant attention by all crew, this vessel is lacking the typical fishing boat “smell.” Cleanliness is prevalent throughout and in fairly close quarters can only be a good thing.

The expected pleasant run down the coast is exactly that, with land in sight at all times. About halfway into our journey, the sun successfully burns through the foggy haze and opens up spectacularly the view of Port Elizabeth and Jude island, locally pronounced as “Judy,” to the east on our starboard bow. Joe and Lyndon exclaim that this day is the highlight of the season. I am inclined to agree, and with my now nearly-found sea legs, I feel like one of the crew.

At noon we are approaching the “gut” of Baine Hr., and a few minutes later we are tying up to the community wharf. There we are met by the skipper’s wife, Phyllis, who transports us back to their home, where she and Joe’s wife, Marion, serve hot roast beef sandwiches to welcome home this seafaring crew.

High tide on Wednesday morning, and the S/D is moved a short distance to the “stage” storage facility, where the crab pots and associated gear are stored inside. This unloading process is in conjunction with the rising and ebbing of said tide. Timing is crucial so that the S/D does not “ground” before the unloading is completed. When all the equipment is off and safely stored, the Stephanie Darren moves back to her familiar berth, satisfied that once again, as in many years past, she has served her master & crew well.

So ends my short excursion, which leaves me with great admiration for all those brave souls who garner their livelihoods from the salty sea.   Submitted By: NULL