The big gamble
We’re on the eve of the “big gamble”: where fisherfolk load up their boats with traps, and at the crack of dawn head out to sea… to throw the whole shebang overboard. Oh, they can probably find the where, again, thanks to good sea sense and a functional GPS, but I always wonder. In fact, one of the local breweries holds this event in such high regard that they’ve marketed an ale named for the event.
We decided to head on over the the nearest harbour, this evening. Better light, and less chance of us getting in the way of someone who has work to do. There were still a few trucks about; not everyone gets done early enough to head home and sleep for a few hours. Scramble.
This is a dangerous moment. Right now, the government dredge is still moored in the mouth of the run, trying to lower the bar that developed over a winter. A loaded boat draws more than usual, and these boats are seriously loaded, right now.
I wonder if anyone can get the limit of cages on board for a single run any more. Although the boats are bigger, so are the constructed efforts of a winter. And there’s a folk belief that a bigger cage will haul more… money. Or lobster. Have it whichever way. Prices won’t be known for bit, so the desire to maximize trumps common sense.
I won’t be there, tomorrow morning. Other people need/deserve to be wharfside. There’ll be photos galore on social media, and by Monday morning the hauling will be underway. Another two month sprint.
