A small boat and a trip up on the bay shoals brings not only good memories, but a treasure of both bait and good eating!

by Michael Melchionne

Our latest excursion probably started 35-40 years ago at the same time our education into nature's offerings began as well. Only if one knew how and where to get it! Not really knowing what to do, or how to do it, we, just did it! And an education...but more poignantly...an appreciation of what was available for the taking was embedded in us for life.

We had gotten used to the twin engine, center console, stainless steel rod holder way of fishing. Something we could have only dreamed of when we were kids. And we had been talking...(okay "reflecting") lately on how we could regain that youthful exuberance of being able to provide for one's family, oneself, and one's friends... "living off the land" as we use to proclaim. We had always managed to do all of it on a shoe string as well. Our methods of transportation usually consisted of a plywood runabout, a jonboat or a wooden rowboat with whatever we could find to throw on the back or top of our woods machine's. That was when every trip seemed to become an adventure. Nothing could ever stand in the way of us reaching our destination.

After enough talk, my "Cuzz" finally scratched up enough to finance a new (lol...USED)vessel to transport us back in time...yes... transport us to those never to be forgotten destinations where we spent the majority of our youth. It was no time machine...but this craft was going to allow us to revisit those places once again. The "Cuzz" did fine...and the planning for the maiden voyage of this shoal bustin', 14 footer began almost the same time the check was clearing the bank for the purchase.

Now, being the frugal consumers we've always been, we wanted to get the best bang for our buck, so we put it in at the free boat ramp! The traps were baited at home with the best we had, freezer burned bluefish racks, heads, and skins from the spring run that our wives told us to get out of the freezers. Ahhh...the familiar sounds of times past already! We also knew we could save gas since the "secret spot" was not far from the ramp. With the little 9.9 that was on her, that amounted to about 20 cents... it was feeling good!
After dropping the traps in our secret spot...that everyone knows about...we were met at the bay by a two to three foot easterly chop breaking over the bow. Perfect weather to see what this "little boat that could" would handle!

"Just like old times, huh, Cuzz?" I cheerily questioned.

Cuzz mumbled some inaudible comment as he wiped a piece of sea cabbage from his chin, but then I heard "Well... I'm just glad it's July and not November"! Being a family website I won't attempt to interpret the mumbling I could decipher.

Before long we had splashed and sloshed to the other side of Barnegat Bay. We hit the flats on the east side of the bay (literally...with the prop!) and belly whopping over the side of the 14 foot craft (that damn bay always looks shallower than it really is...or my legs are gettin' shorter) the rakes and scoop nets were manned and off we went to "feed the village".

I really couldn't remember all these survival techniques being so strenuous, but after an hour or so, those 7 clams in my pocket were starting to weigh me down!

"Hey Cuzz... how many crabs you catch?"

"Half dozen!"

"Keepers??!"

"Uhhh...none." It didn't take two old timers very long to figure it was time to head for some greener pastures!

These days it seems any place you go in the northern Barnegat Bay, chances are they've been pretty well worked over! After poking around the flats a little bit more I told the Cuzz..."Listen to what I'm telling you...bend left up here..."

"Why?"

"Just try and make it across that flat."

"Why?"

"Cause I said so!!!"

The "Cuzz" fired up the ole '86 9.9 and we were buzzin' down the shoal...that is until we figured out that the old "Channel" had changed quite a bit in the past 15 years or so! After a few pauses, a few "reverses" to clear the grass and finally a shove of the oar over and back into some more navigable waters!

"Where we goin'?"

"Don't worry about it...OVER THERE...just don't tell anyone cause it's my "honey hole"! ( Like all things that haven't been seen in sometime, finding that spot took me a few minutes).

"OK...kill it...we're here!"

I got the anchor...and over the side it went. The tide was ripping out pretty good by now. With that, I stepped over the side (never hitting the bottom...short legs again!) and under the boat in the current I went. Not as graceful as I used to remember it, but "AHHH" that salt water certainly tasted like I remembered it.

I didn't walk five feet before the rake went tink, tink, TINK! Not the half shell...or the casino type..but a big old, honkin', barnacle wearin' bait clam! Well, we had learned a long time ago that you take "whatever the Good Lord is giving", so in the pocket it went. In a few more minutes I was yelling for the inner tube and basket. Between the two of us, in not too long of a time, that basket was riding low in the water...brimming "bay gold", "Barnegat C", "CLAMS" that is! It was one of those times when you are being really successful and don't want to stop, but you know greed isn't good. It was time to leave some for another day...and it actually felt pretty good to leave them biting! That content, successful look was evident on both our faces. Damn...we still had it...yep, the "hunters had gathered"!

The ride back across the bay was much flatter and more enjoyable as the wind had laid down. "Don't forget the crab traps!" I said.

"Cuz, it's on the way in..." (Some more mumbled words I can't print...)

So, check'em we did. Eleven "keeper" crabs in about 4 hours with free bait and all we did were place the traps in the secret spot! The conversation went something like, "We're living Cuzz!"

"Yeah...but what are we gonna do with all these damn clams?"

"Don't you worry..."

We planned on doing up the clams and the rest of the day's bounty on Sunday at the Cuzz's place...but the women weren't quite as enthusiastic as we were about Sunday's barbeque menu. But we knew a few cheese burgers would remedy that concern.

On Sunday, the "hunter gatherer providers" on the other hand, went all out and jointly prepared a meal fit for a king! Fried bait clam tongue strips, (melted in your mouth...for real...) and clam "scallops" (a little chewy but sweet and VERY tasty). The homemade tartar sauce and cocktail sauce topped off the appetizers. In the main entree, the little clams and crabs (along with a few extra tidbits...like shrimp and mussels) went into an oil, garlic, butter, wine and linguine mix...to die for! Apple turnovers and coffee finished off the night and it was evident...the "Cuzz" and I still had it. We had tasted our youth and we were ready for more. The old 9.9 on that 14 footer is ready to rock...and it's gonna be soon.

Along with those memories and lessons we learned may years ago the most important one was, "you kill it... you eat it". Well over the years I'll admit that there were some things that probably should've never ended up in the cooler...like raccoon. But that's another story.

This trip we had taken what the Good Lord provided. And in fact it bordered on gourmet. But when you find yourself in that bountiful position, just remember..."Waste Not, Want Not"!