Where to catch your own crab in Monterey.
Where to catch and eat California’s signature shellfish in Monterey.
In a few hours, Monterey’s Fisherman’s Wharf will be packed with people — perusing menus at seafood restaurants, browsing souvenir shops, snacking on saltwater taffy, and leaning over the railing to spy fuzzy sea otters. But now, in the darkness of early morning, only a few people can be seen, dangling fishing poles off the pier.
Shortly after 6 a.m., I clutch my coffee cup and fishing pole, board the 53-foot Sur Randy, with its captain, deckhand and about 16 people, and pull away from the wharf just as pink and orange begin to spread across the sky.
While it’s easy for consumers to pick up Dungeness crab at the market and from fishing boats, the crustacean seems to attain an even higher status — and some say a better taste — if you catch it yourself. Hauling pots on a charter fishing boat for a few hours seems like a reasonable way to earn my catch, even though it’s the first time I’ve attempted it.
On this day trip in Monterey Bay, spending the entire time hauling crab pots can become tedious, so we start off with fishing for sand dabs. Everyone has staked out a spot at the boat’s rail for their pole and burlap sack, for stashing the fish. But until we get to the fishing grounds, a couple of miles into the bay, those on board nap in the cabin or chat on deck, learning where we’re all from: San Francisco, Moraga, Martinez, Turlock, Los Gatos, San Jose, Half Moon Bay.
Captain David “Shorty” Reins cuts the boat’s motor, and everyone scatters to their stations. I drop my line in the water, and before long I’m pulling in translucent pink and yellow sand dabs, four and five and six at a time. An infrequent angler, I’m not as skilled as many of the others, and get occasional help from Monty Truitt, the deckhand, who gives me tips and helps me pull fish from my line when I have more than I can handle.
“It’s easier if you grab them here to get the hook out,” he says, showing
me how to quickly pluck the sand dab from my line and slide it safely into my bag. “When you reel in, watch out for those cormorants.” Truitt points to the opportunist birds in the water, eyeing our lines. When someone begins to pull in their catch, one of the birds will dive to steal a fish. Sometimes it works, and sometimes they come up empty.
After spending time fishing and marveling at the calm conditions, it’s time to secure the fishing poles, hand our catch over to Truitt for cleaning, and get ready to see how many Dungeness crabs will join us on board. Since baited crab pots need to sit for a period of time, we’re hauling in pots that were set two days ago and baiting them for the next boatload of crab fans.
Warmer waters along the coast last year caused the largest algal bloom in more than a decade, which caused unsafe levels of domoic acid, a neurotoxin that can be harmful or even fatal to humans, in Dungeness crabs. The Department of Public Health performs tests on Dungeness crab to determine when and where fishing is allowed. Other species have been affected by the warming waters, too. Pacific sardine populations are declining, and there have been lower catches of red sea urchin, Chinook salmon and market squid. The fishing industry hopes that the fisheries return to normal, but the definition of the word seems to be changing.
In the middle of Dungeness season, the crab pots we pull in are mixed. Some of them have seven or eight keepers; some as few as one or two. We toss back females and too-small males (under 5¾ inches), as well as rock crabs.
Everyone on deck lends a hand — using a gaff to snag the line that connects the crab pots to their buoys, pulling the line in until someone shouts “color” when they see the crab pot, replacing the bait with a fresher version, and removing crabs from the pot to determine gender and measure their size. The hardest work is pulling the line in, and we switch off tasks so no one person has to do it all the time. Dungeness crabs that make the cut are placed in a holding tank, and, at the end of the fishing day, when all pots have been tended, the count is divided among those of us with fishing licenses.
Today, I’m taking home two crabs and about 25 sand dabs. It’s reasonably easy for my first time out — not excessive exertion, plenty of opportunity to catch my dinner, and an ample supply of helping hands when I need them.
As the Sur Randy heads back to the wharf, we trade recipes for sand dabs and agree that the day’s crab will immediately go into boiling water when we return home. Nearly a reversed mirror image of the morning, tired anglers with rods and coolers and burlap sacks file off the boat onto the wharf, this time in the afternoon sun.
Does my own Dungeness catch taste sweeter than crab bought in the market? I’ll soon find out.
As the Sur Randy heads back to the wharf, we trade recipes for sand dabs and agree that the day’s crab will immediately go into boiling water when we return home.