Lobster Saturday

Murray Beach Campground
New Brunswick, August 10, 2008

Murray Beach Campground is probably the prettiest place we’ve stayed at so far, and the most enjoyable, despite (and maybe because of) the fact that there was no Internet service and we were disconnected from the world for three days.

It’s amazing how reliant we have become on the Internet. We use it for maps, driving directions, e-mail of course, translating words into English, mais oui, and for accessing a ton of other information without which we simply cannot live. Like who won the gold for swimming in the last Olympics.

It happened that we were there on Saturday, August 9, the first day of lobster season, so we took ourselves off to the little wharf to see the fishermen put out to sea with their traps. Of curse there was no way we were going to see the first run – that was a six in the morning, and we planned to be fast asleep. We got there at a human hour -- around eleven -- and were lucky enough to see some boats that had come back for a second set of traps.

Each trap is baited with what I guessed was salted cod, one fish inside a mesh bag, and the other attached to the outside of the bag. I guess the strategy is to lure the lobster in with a nice juicy fish, then cause him a nervous breakdown trying to get the second fish out of the bag.

Now I never had a problem dropping a lobster into boiling water. Even after someone told me they screamed when they hit the water. I couldn’t hear it, so I dismissed the theory. But causing a lobster to have a mental breakdown before you haul him up from the sea seems like unnecessary torture, especially when you figure that he’s going to be having a 180 degree spa treatment some time in the near future. Play fair, fellas.

Later I sauntered into a craft show run by the local churchwomen. I wonder what the market is for dish towels sewed with little belt loops, because I see them in every single craft fair I ever go to. The funny thing is, I’ve never seen anybody with a dish towel hanging off his or her belt. Except John, who calls it a shooting towel and who has never dried a dish with it, thank god.

Oh and by the way, we didn’t have lobster at Murray Beach. Seems commercial fishing is not allowed on Sunday, so they couldn’t even check their traps until Monday – at which point we plan to be some 200 miles away in Nova Scotia. That night we’ll go out for seafood. I’m sure the Scotians are lobster fishermen too. Kinder, gentler ones, I hope.
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