August 13, 1981 - Rowboats RememberedAugust 13, 1981
Tbt Ouffnik Timet
Rowboats Remembered
A seagull flies across a golden setting
sky. There's no wind and the bay is flat
calm. Off in the distance the groan of some
youthful water skiers fades and then is
lost. The sailboats Jay unorganized without
the wind to give them the command to
`face front'. It's summer twilight on the
bay.
Coolness has started to creep over the
water and has discouraged most of the
gnats. How those pesty little demons can
irritate you! When I was first getting the
boat ready to row out they were all about
as the sun was still up and its rays still
putting forth its summer heat. It was
prime time for a gnat attack. If their
orneryness could be magnified by their
comparative size to our size we'd have the
secret weapon of all secret weapons. Have
you ever tried to eat on the beach with the
gnats swarming about? Or have you ever
tried cleaning fish or skinning eels on a
quiet night when they were on the ram-
page? I suppose it would be nice to have all
the gnats, mosquitoes, green flies, yellow
jackets, gypsy moths, etc. eliminated, but
then it might just turn into a place like
New York City with its cement and glass
and no natural irritants. Yet when you
think of their muggings, killings, polluted
air and water and cacophony of sounds, I
think I'll stick to our countryside out here.
As I got into the boat, took out the old
oars and headed out to the big boat, the
thought flashed through my mind; when
did I ever learn to row? I can't ever
remember not knowing how to row a boat.
Everyone had a rowboat when I was a kid.
Cedar was the best wood. It was so light
and resistant to rot. Its big disadvantage
was that if you left the boat up on the beach
out of the water for a few days it would dry
out and look like a sieve. Then you always
had to put it in the water for a day or so and
let it swell up again.
Clayton Billard, my nextdoor neighbor,
used to build rowboats in a little shop in the
back of his house during the slow winter
months. Just recently the homestead and
buildings were sold and I was asked if I
wanted to take out some of the old scrap
wood from under the bench. In among the
wood I came across one of Clayton's old
oak bow stems from one of his boats.
Evidently the mortis or groove for the
planking was a special job and so when the
cutting took place two or three stems
would be made at one time. This one never
had the joy of becoming part of one of
Clayton's rowboats.
Built to Last
Ribs of oak and cedar planking made up
this 14 -foot boat that lasted for years.
Fitted with galvanized oar locks, a length
of manila line, an anchor and you were
ready to go... that is if you had a pair of
oars. We never had a new pair and to this
day the ones I rode out with were
mismatched, found along the bay or Sound
front after a storm. Usually they were
different lengths, but that never really
seemed to matter.
Everyone in those days had a rowboat
for clamming, fishing and crabbing. You
could always tell the one that had just been
used for crabbing by the muddy inside and
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the occasional forgotten crab that still
somehow survived under the back seat.
That reminded me of how a crab or two
always seemed to escape when we got
them home. If you didn't cook them right
away and left them outside, somehow one
would always escape and you'd find it
walking down the driveway or out on the
old tarred road. Crabbing was part of the
summer fun and crabs cooked scalding red
and eaten still hot were a seafood delight
that can't be beaten in the best of
restaurants even today.
Eating crabs always meant a messy
meal and so newspapers were spread out
on the table and the big steaming pot of
crabs was put in the center. Then the old
Thanksgiving nutcrackers and picks were
brought out. Oh, yes, there were lots of
paper napkins and drinks to go about.
We don't eat crabs like the professionals
down south. There they cut through the
center of the crab, paralleling the shell,
then pick the meat out with a special crab
knife that everyone seems to carry in their
back pocket.
Cutting the 'Mustard'
My Dad's specialty was the yellow
"mustard" that lay in the corners of the
shell. It always turned me off as a kid but
now for some reason I, too, find that to be
one of the tasty parts I never overlook. We
kids usually went for the big claws because
they didn't require as much time to get the
meat out as the body did. We'd even use
the legs. After breaking the leg from the
body, you'd bite or break the joint off
where it was attached... then by pulling the
leg through your teeth the meat was
worked out. After a while you got pretty
good at it and when there weren't too many
crabs it helped stretch them out. Besides,
all the juices in the leg seemed to add to
the flavor of things.
Of course, the soft crab is something
special. They were meticulously wrapped
in sea lettuce and carefully stored in the
boat so the snapping claws of the other
crabs wouldn't tear them apart. Then at
home they'd immediately be transferred
to the icebox to be kept alive to await
cleaning when ready for use -- never
before. Leatherbacks were also caught on
occasion and here it would depend on how
hard or soft the crab was as to whether
you'd eat it as a softy or as a hard crab.
No matter which, crabs were a delight and
no summer ever was complete without
several messes of them.
As the sun disappeared behind the low
trees on the other side of the bay, the gnats
seemed to disappear or at least become
less troublesome. I took a short spin in the
boat as the lights from the houses twinkled
on one by one. My wake spread out behind
the boat like my memories of yesteryear.
PAULSTOUTENBURGH
Industrial ft Farm Equipment
ROLLE BRO!i. `e'8
�'.J. Box 35E3
Riverhead, N.Y
Your Authorized Phone 727 438:;
SPERRY NEVV HOLLAND dealer
Page 15
TWILIGHT ON THE BAY - -When the wind drops off and the sun sets
aglow in the west, there is no better time to be out on the bay.
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
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