| Commercial Fishing |
| Learn How One Recreational Angler Turned His Passion Into Profit |
| By Jonathan Hemmerdinger |
| Updated March 8, 2010 |
I cannot, without diminishing the profession, call myself a commercial fisherman. After all, I have a full-time office job in the city. I don't even live near the water.
Still, every summer I spend one or two weeks on Cape Cod fishing commercially for striped bass. During those weeks I fish early and I fish late, spending most of each day on my little boat. I fish in rain and I fish in fog, near shore and offshore, smooth water and rough.
But instead of eating my catch, I sell it to local fish markets. Others eat it, in restaurants and at dinner parties. I take home only a paycheck. The income offsets the costs and the financial incentive changes the game.
Recreational fishermen might be surprised that Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New York, Delaware, Virginia and North Carolina allow the commercial harvest of striped bass – called rock fish in the mid-Atlantic – in state waters, which extend three miles offshore. In 2008, some 3,200 metric tons of stripers were landed for commercial sale, according to the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission, a group that coordinates state fishery management plans.
Most East Coast states also allow the commercial sale of bluefish. And with a federal permit, offshore anglers can sell larger and more valuable game fish, like bluefin tuna.
COMMERCIAL APPEAL
I fish commercially for striped bass in the waters around the town of Chatham, on Cape Cod. In Massachusetts, getting a commercial permit is simple. Just download the application from the web site of the state's Division of Marine Fisheries.
If you fish from a small skiff like mine, Massachusetts requires you have a boat permit with a striped bass endorsement. The total cost is $160 for state residents and $320 for out-of-staters. If you fish only from shore – try working the banks of the Cape Cod Canal at night – you'll spend $65 or $160, depending on your residency.
The Bay State's commercial striped bass season opens in mid-July, which usually coincides with the arrival of schools of northbound migrating stripers. In the days preceding the start of the season, Cape Codders talk of stripers incessantly and with the nervous excitement of city goers anticipating a winter blizzard. Fishing is on everyone's mind. And opening day is a hoopla. Everyone with a license is on the water. The ocean is crowded with zigzagging boats jockeying for the best positions. The most devoted guys leave the dock the night before, dropping their lines at the stroke of midnight.
The season ends when the quota – 1.1 million pounds in 2009 – is filled, which can take a few weeks or a few months depending on how fast fish are caught. After the season closes, the state mails catch reports to all commercial permit holders. If you don't complete and return the forms, the state won't grant you a permit next year.
I schedule my fishing weeks for the second half of July, when the crowds are lighter. My boat is an old but solid 20-foot center-console SeaCraft, perfect for working the tidal rips that slice like spindly veins across the shallow waters east and south of Cape Cod. In these rips, striped bass feed on baitfish swept by the tide over the shoals.
Striped bass must be at least 34 inches long to sell in Massachusetts. The state also sets daily catch limits: 30 fish on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays and five fish on Sundays. Fishing is prohibited on Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays.
DAYS THAT PAY
I've tried every method of fishing for stripers. I've trolled buck tails on wire line. I've drifted live eels and golden-sided chubs. I've dragged umbrella rigs, which always return a tangled mess.
Though live bait can work best, I prefer casting plugs into rips. It's a fast, active style of fishing. I motor up-current, cut the engine and cast into the rip's leading edge. I reel at the same speed as the current, keeping the lure nearly stationary in the white water. I prefer white or pink split-back Bomber lures with treble hooks. I use 20-pound monofilament line and Penn spinning reels. Unless bluefish are present, I leave my leaders in the tackle box.
Bass seem to be most active when the sun is low on the horizon and when the tide is running. I like to leave the dock early – between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m. I'll work the morning tide and return to port before noon. Then, lunch and a nap. I'm back offshore for round two in late afternoon, my favorite time to fish. In the evening there is less boat traffic. Often I have the rips to myself.
Fishermen can sell their catch in Massachusetts to any of some 100 dealers, many of them small, retail fish markets. There are at least four dealers in Chatham, one of which stays open at night so fishermen can deliver fish after business hours.
Regional fish auctions dictate prices--so there's no haggling. Just drop off your fish and return a few days later for your check. Prices vary, but expect between $2 and $3.50 per pound for stripers and no more than fifty cents for bluefish.
Fish markets only accept striped bass whole and uncut. Blues, however, must be gutted to drain their oily blood and keep their flesh firm. Gutting is a dirty procedure better undertaken at sea than at the dock. If I've got a load of blues, my crew and I form a three-man assembly line: one man cuts, one man rips, one man rinses.
And nobody likes warm fish, so keep your catch packed on ice from fish box to market. I buy my ice from a decades-old steel trailer parked at the local fish pier. It's the honor system: five bucks per cooler.
I don't make much money selling stripers. Most of the fish I catch aren't big enough to keep. On an average day I'll return with three keepers in the fish box. If the market price is high – say, $3 a pound – I'll earn about $90.
Then subtract expenses. In three hours of fishing my four-stroke Yamaha outboard burns six or seven gallons of fuel. That's about $25 at gas-dock prices. Add $15 for a couple lures. And if you fish with friends (I usually do), you'll want to throw a few bucks to your crew. In the end, I'm lucky to break even.
But some days are better than others.
One morning in 2008 I left the dock early and alone. It was dark and the fog was thick. I navigated on GPS, reaching the offshore tidal rips at dawn. The conditions were perfect. Low visibility. Overcast sky. No wind. No other boats. Sea birds filled the sky.
I cut the engine and cast my lure straight as a bullet into the rip. A bass exploded from the depths, engulfing the plug the moment it splashed down. I brought the fish in fast, gaffing it in the lower lip. The fish was 36 inches long. I lowered it into the fish box and cast again. Another hookup. Another keeper.
That's how it went for hours – one big fish after another, a few over 40 inches long. I fished the whole tide, stopping only to catch my breath or slug coffee from my thermos. And I moved fast, at times working two rods at once. In an hour I had ten keepers – my previous single-day record. An hour later, two dozen fish flopped in the hold. The pace didn't slow. Soon I had thirty fish – roughly 450 pounds. I had reached my daily limit and I headed home with the stereo blasting. I couldn't help but smile. My profits that day: $1400.
Don't get me wrong – I like fishing whether I can sell my catch or not. I just like it more when I can sell it. When I fish commercially, my mindset changes. I feel even more urgency to be on the water, a burning desire to land another 30 monster bass. It's partly the money that drives me, but it's more the satisfaction of knowing my success rests on my skills and my persistence. Try it for yourself. You might find nothing is better than being paid to do what you love more than anything else – if only for a few days.
Jonathan Hemmerdinger is a professional journalist in Washington, D.C., a U.S.C.G. licensed skipper and a former charter-boat captain.
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