The last few days of the season were hell. I'm not sure what I was expecting really. A surprise catch? Lighter traps? Deep satisfaction pulling each trap from the water for the last time? Well, none of these miracles took place. I'm sorry to say that I was uncharacteristically sour about the whole business. I even chugged some caffeine to give me a little kick in the pants, but even that didn't serve to boost my motivation.
On the first day of the trap-pulling marathon (March 17), we were over-ambitious and brought in 80 traps (two loads of 40). Cap and I knew that we were in for a doozy when the first trap surfaced. It was about half full of vein shrimp. Vein shrimp are small and taste like iodine compared to the more desirable Northern shrimp. You can't sell them and if there are too many in a tray, the buyer will either bitch or reject the tray altogether. In other words, they are bad news. It wasn't surprising that the vein shrimp descended on us like a plague of locusts. The traps had set for 5 nights of rough seas, which often bring out the "veiners" (or the "veinous ones," as I dubbed them).
Now, if we had been wise, we probably would have dumped half of the traps that day. But once you start saving the contents and picking out the vein shrimp, it is addictive. Cap and I both suffer from a dangerous combination of perfectionism and frugality. At first, we had the mindset that we would just pick out enough buckets to fill our shrimp orders for the last day of the season. We both had friends who wanted shrimp and we had procrastinated until then to bring them some. Once we started picking those buggers out, we couldn't stop.
We actually came out alright in the end with a not-too-shabby 9 trays of good shrimp. However, each tray was painstakingly picked over. We put in a full 12 hour day by the time we returned from trucking the shrimp to South Bristol for sale and cleaned up the dock.
On day 2 of pulling traps, we wised up a bit and only endeavored to land 40 traps, but it felt just as painful somehow. We returned with 4 trays and decided to pick out the vein shrimp on Cap's "sorting table" on the dock. Some fishermen came down to help us and chatted, which made the process altogether more pleasant.
By day 3, I was a sore, grumpy mess to the point where it was probably amusing to watch me growl and scowl at inanimate objects. At one point Cap even turned to me with the hint of a smile and said: "No one enjoys pulling shrimp traps for the season. It just isn't fun." This actually made me chuckle and made me realize how bitter I had been.
I daresay that I didn't find closure or satisfaction with the whole shrimping business until we landed the last unwieldy shrimp trap atop the pile in Cap's backyard. These traps won't be touched again until January of 2011. And I am am content to say that it won't be by my hand! Been there, done that. It was a great experience learning the ropes of shrimp trapping. I learned a ton and it made great writing material, but I certainly don't find the need to experience it ever again. I guess I'll leave it to the pros.
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