Holy crap, I did my California thing and caught crabs!

On Saturday, J and I took an overnight trip to Santa Cruz County. We gawked like rubes at the mountain vistas and giant redwoods, ate like kings, and engaged in dreamy idylls inspired by ridiculously expensive real estate. On the return to S.F., we motored up Highway 1 for more eye candy, evidence of which you can see to the left and below.

When we arrived at Pacifica, I had to indulge my urge to inspect the local fishing grounds. The Pacifica city pier, which juts about 1,000 feet straight into the ocean, is legendary among California fisherman, widely considered the best in the state. I had read the stories of spectacular catches of big fish--salmon and stripers and, occasionally, halibut and leopard sharks. Naturally, I had to see for myself.

The weather was perfect, with blue skies and a dappling sun. There were a lot of people on the pier, but none of the anglers seemed to be catching much. The crabbers were another story. They hooted and hollered as they hoisted up hoop nets crawling with rock and dungeness crabs.

Yesterday, I drove to Pacifica and found myself at the Rusty Hook baitshop, where I shelled out for a $19 hoop net and a package of frozen squid.

The scene at the pier was nothing like Sunday afternoon. Hardly any fishermen. Few tourists. And virtually no sun. An armada of big, fat clouds was squatting stubbornly in the hills. The ocean winds piled on the fog.

I baited the hoop net with squid and lowered it from the pier, using nearly 100 feet of rope before the hoop settled on the ocean floor. I waited ten minutes and hauled the net to the pier. Like that, I'm a crabber. My first crab, a five inch red rock, threatened my with his pincers. I replied to this aggression by tossing him into a waterless bucket and--later that night--boiling him alive.

Yeah, I know: an asymmetrical response.

Anyway, I wound up catching a ton of crabs. It reminded me of still fishing for cats--a lot of waiting around with a big hunk of bait meat in the water. In the course of the afternoon, the majority of the crabs I caught were undersized (and the Dungeness were undersized and out of season). While most of my prey was returned to the deep, I drove home with eight captive red and brown rock crabs.




After J got back from work, she dropped the condemned into a pot of boiling water, then showed me how to clean them. A nasty but not entirely horrific process.

Fifteen minutes later, we were enjoying a messy, tasty, one-course feast while watching a documentary about crossword puzzles.