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| Long Key at Low Tide |
The Florida Keys--Where everyone has a story, including me.
"Those are mine", he denounced, pointing at the twenty three
Florida stone crab claws that the bartender just put down in front of me and my rumbling stomach. I looked up in confusion with half a crab leg dangling from my mouth. My hand went to the plate at the same time, remembering that when I was three years old, I was told that once you touch something on the plate, they're all yours. I was met with a smile of pride. "Those are from my boat. I caught them out there this morning, he said, pointing out to the setting sun that the
local bar overlooked the Marathon marina.
"Oh, you caught rrheemmmmmmm," I had already cracked a second claw and stuffed it in my mouth by the time he finished his sentence. "Ffhere ggguood." After two long scuba dives, filling my rumbling stomach with good beer and fresh seafood was more than important.
I'm glad you like them." Seeing that I had already through half the plate, he laughed, "maybe we should hire you to clean them, but I would be worried about my profit margin."
Done with my first two dozen, what next?
You all aren't from around here." Again, in a tone that made it sound like a declaration rather than a question.
Damn it, do I have tourist written on my forehead, or is it the short white girl next to me who, after a week of choosing bug spray over sun screen, is now the short red girl. I had no choice, but to come clean. "We're from California," knowing that to a local
Conch, that was almost as bad as saying you just moved here from New York.
"Hmmm...."
Here it comes. After spending far too much time on the water with
Florida Crackers hearing about how "folks from California" dance around wiccan circles in our tie-dye shirts, eating tofu, and giving group hugs, I was ready for the teasing.
"Did you know, that stone crabs one of the most sustainable seafood in the world?" again that smile pride.
It was not what I was expecting for him to say. "Do you farm them?"
"No, we only
take one claw and throw the crab back. The claw has to be about this big," he showed with his fingers, "but otherwise, they're from those cages out there." I know it's a cliche, but if I had looked at this man's hands first, I would have known immediately that he's a fisherman. I swear I could see flecks of crab shell embedded into his skin.
"You don't eat the body?"
"Naw. No meat."
"Do all the boats do the same thing?"
"Yeah, we all decided a while ago that it made more sense. We haven't seen a drop in crabs compared to tuna and other fishes."
We proceeded to talk about how his family has been fishing off the Keys for ten generations. How his family started with a row boat and a shack in the swamp, and now he has three full sized boats. How the scientists think that marine protected zones will preserve the ocean, but he and other fishermen knew that they don't always work for the fish and them. I came to a bar, hoping to fill my stomach with beer and seafood, and I found myself being more educated about fisheries and sustainability than a trip to the aquarium.
My trip to the Keys is over a year old, however the recent tragedy in the gulf prompted me to write this blog. The Florida Keys are filled with plenty to do. Petting six toed felines, kayaking, great authors snorkeling,
turtle rescue, food, and the history.
But, what is precious about these chain of islands are the people and their stories. From the stone crab fisherman to the woman working at the
wine/art bar whose friend's death lead her from Europe to Key West, tales abound. VISIT, especially after the oil spill, and take the time to TALK to the locals. I promise, you'll hear some great stories, be surprised with what you hear, and maybe even learn about stone crabs and more. Check out some of the links in the posts and like any tale of the ocean, this one has a few embellishments.
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| Long Key Sunset |
