2008 Woodie Awards
Lobster fishing is the 'Maine' event for student
Dory Larrabee
Issue date: 10/14/04 Section: Features
While most college kids stumble into bed around 4 a.m., this summer I experienced something very different. I woke up each morning at 4 a.m.
My step brother Rob Hudson is a lobsterman who fishes off the coast of Maine, where we live. His boat is docked out of Goose Bay, Maine, near the famous tourist hot spots Boothbay and Bar Harbors.
So one day in August, my best friend Monica and I braved the Atlantic Ocean in hopes of experiencing what it would be like to be "lobster people" for two days. We left the house at 4:30 a.m. and stopped for some very-necessary coffee in a gas station that, as far as I was concerned, was way too crowded at that hour of the morning. We drove 45 minutes until we got to the bay. It was still dark at the dock, but we were looking forward to embarking on the journey thatnot many people, even Mainers, get to experience.
Rob, who just turned 29, is one of two younger lobstermen who have to row out to their boats in dinghies. All the other "big time lobstermen" have motorized boats to get to their lobster boats.
Once we got on the boat, named "Dizzy Lizzy" after his wife Liz, we had to put on huge, bright orange, rubber jumpsuits. Looking around, I tried to take it all in. I saw amid the dirty, fishy, boat laid thousands of dollars of geographical and global positioning equipment. Preparing to put thick rubber gloves on that would protect my manicure, Rob handed me thin white cotton gloves that were soon soaked, cold, and smelly. Monica and I were tasked to be "baiters and banders," as in, put the bait (dead, stinky, juicy blue heron) into bags for the traps, and to band the lobster's claws that came out of those traps.
Soon we were off, the boat rocking and swaying as we hit each new wave. Every now and then I would lick my lips and taste a salty drop of the ocean that had splattered on my lip. We didn't waste any time, and soon we were pulling up our first trap. Rob would reach into the water and grab the trap using a metal hook on the end of a wooden pole. Then the rope would be pulled by an automatic lever. The water we fished in ranged from 80 feet to 300 feet, and the time it took for the trap to reach the surface was between 30 seconds and two minutes.
My step brother Rob Hudson is a lobsterman who fishes off the coast of Maine, where we live. His boat is docked out of Goose Bay, Maine, near the famous tourist hot spots Boothbay and Bar Harbors.
So one day in August, my best friend Monica and I braved the Atlantic Ocean in hopes of experiencing what it would be like to be "lobster people" for two days. We left the house at 4:30 a.m. and stopped for some very-necessary coffee in a gas station that, as far as I was concerned, was way too crowded at that hour of the morning. We drove 45 minutes until we got to the bay. It was still dark at the dock, but we were looking forward to embarking on the journey thatnot many people, even Mainers, get to experience.
Rob, who just turned 29, is one of two younger lobstermen who have to row out to their boats in dinghies. All the other "big time lobstermen" have motorized boats to get to their lobster boats.
Once we got on the boat, named "Dizzy Lizzy" after his wife Liz, we had to put on huge, bright orange, rubber jumpsuits. Looking around, I tried to take it all in. I saw amid the dirty, fishy, boat laid thousands of dollars of geographical and global positioning equipment. Preparing to put thick rubber gloves on that would protect my manicure, Rob handed me thin white cotton gloves that were soon soaked, cold, and smelly. Monica and I were tasked to be "baiters and banders," as in, put the bait (dead, stinky, juicy blue heron) into bags for the traps, and to band the lobster's claws that came out of those traps.
Soon we were off, the boat rocking and swaying as we hit each new wave. Every now and then I would lick my lips and taste a salty drop of the ocean that had splattered on my lip. We didn't waste any time, and soon we were pulling up our first trap. Rob would reach into the water and grab the trap using a metal hook on the end of a wooden pole. Then the rope would be pulled by an automatic lever. The water we fished in ranged from 80 feet to 300 feet, and the time it took for the trap to reach the surface was between 30 seconds and two minutes.