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Although not fond of snakes, Joseph Nickerson spent several summers catching eels in eel pots and selling them to a company owned by a couple of really well-dressed brothers who came down from Gloucester every other week and transfered the harvest from eel car to tank truck.
“They looked like two guys getting out of the truck in tuxes,” he said. “They were first class.”
In the 1980s, Alex Brown was in the East End of Provincetown when he met a fellow who, finding out Brown was a fisherman, started talking. The man’s name was Steve Kennedy.
Brown asked him if he was any relation to the noted photographer and painter of the same name. Brown said he had an oil painting by Kennedy of the well-known Provincetown fishing dragger Barracuda – she had a red, toothy mouth painted on her green hull – hanging in his living room.
Howard Blackburn was born in 1859; he “crossed over” in 1932. His birthplace was Nova Scotia, Canada. He emigrated to Gloucester as a teenager and started a career as a mate aboard fishing schooners.
In 1883, he sailed aboard the Grace L. Fears on a winter trip to the Grand Banks, an historic fishing ground 100 to 200 miles east of Newfoundland; they were in search of halibut. The schooner would return safely to Gloucester, her holds full, but Blackburn would not be aboard.
Forty years ago — that Old Testament number meant to connote a long time (raining 40 days and nights, wandering in the desert 40 years) — Walter Baron built his workshop on a side road in Wellfleet. He knew what he wanted to do, he did it, and he still does:
Build boats.
If “jumbo shrimp” is an oxymoron, what is “very small shrimp”?
Whatever you call it, shrimp with the Latin name pandalus borealis, or Arctic shrimp, is big with flavor and eye appeal.
This crustacean does not come from the warm Gulf of Mexico or the coasts of our Southeastern states. Neither is it “farm raised” like cousins tiger and brown shrimp. Arctic shrimp are exactly what they sound like, a creature of the cold and dark waters of northern oceans.
Every year around this time, some of us think back to when skiffs from Stage Harbor to Ryder’s Cove were outfitted with bay scallop dredges.
Nearly 50 years ago, a massive historic structure on Stage Harbor in Chatham that served as a cold storage facility was being knocked down when things went awry.
Captain Fred Bennett was there.
“I came in from bass fishing and there it was, burning,” Bennett said, and he captured it on film.
David Jerauld stopped fishing decades ago, but stories of his boat, the Pocahontas, still find their way into conversations.
“A legendary name for a legendary boat,” said Paul Gasek from Brewster, who crewed for Jerauld back in the 1970s before going on to another kind of career in fisheries; producer of the popular television show, “The Deadliest Catch.”
Jerauld has landscaped for years – too many days at sea away from his family convinced him to jump ship – but he grew up fishing.
Imagine the following:
You have been out to sea for two days. It’s mid-December, the shortest days of the year and colder than usual. It’s been blowing northwest, 10 to 20 knots with three- to six-foot seas. Your catch of 7000 pounds of cod, haddock and flat fish are below, well iced to ensure best quality, and hopefully the best price. The trip to Joe Bragg’s ridge you and your three-man crew began earlier in the week is nearing its end.
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