The Summer House At City Island Yacht Club

Much of the destruction from Tropical Storm Irene has been well documented this week, but some damage  has gone largely unreported. The pier at the City Island Yacht Club is one such example.

Extending out over the waters of this century-old club, the pier, or Summer House, was more than just a launch-dock for boat owners; it served as a focal point for socializing too. On hot summer evenings, the benches here were a popular spot to relax while enjoying the breezes off of Eastchester Bay. The racing team from Columbia University kept their sailboats here, as well.

Back in my City Island days, I spent many evenings on this dock, gazing out at the mooring field with the East River bridges and Manhattan skyline twinkling in the distance. Good times!    

 Fortunately, plans for rebuilding are already underway.

City Island Yacht Club
City Island Sailing: More Photos

Map
                                             

Starfish.... And Other Threats

"The fishermen are gone; the lobsters are gone.....
Shellfishing's the one thing that remains"

Wherever oysters thrive, starfish are likely to follow. When Bren hoisted the cage on board, several starfish  could be seen clinging to the grow-out-bag. They are an oyster's biggest predator, and it's a never-ending struggle to keep them from devouring the harvest. Combined with the threats from pollution, oysters are incredibly vulnerable in Long Island Sound.

There are more subtle enemies of the industry, as well.

In the early morning hours, Stony Creek has the look of a sleepy waterfront village that's somehow remained forgotten. For the most part, the houses here are relatively modest in size, and you don't see the usual assortment of seafood restaurants, gift shops, and other tourist oriented businesses which often dominate  many shoreline towns. If you're looking to buy a Life Is Good or Black Dog tee-shirt, this is not the place.

Stony Creek was "discovered" long ago, but a great deal of effort and money is spent preserving its understated aura. Once an eclectic mix of summer residents, artists, quarrymen, fishermen, and assorted tradesmen who serviced the islands, it's become increasingly one-dimensional in recent decades. There's a Currier & Ives existence that's still embraced, but it's ornamental. The working waterfront is now residential houses, with oars and fishing gear precisely accenting their entryways. The word "quaint" gets tossed around a bit too much.

These real-estate pressures mean that Bren has no garage or workshop in town to repair his gear, process his oysters, or store supplies. With only a parking space for his truck, he has overcome these obstacles through innovative self-sufficiency.
In the bed of his truck rests a solar and battery powered refrigerator he uses to transport the oysters from the waterfront to market. Used by the armed forces in the deserts of Iraq and Afghanistan, this is an expensive piece of equipment allowing him to operate without access to waterfront electricity. It also meets the regulatory safety requirements for transporting shellfish.

Now, if only there was a piece of equipment to keep the starfish and pollution at bay.

Soundbounder: Stony Creek 6am (part 1)
Soundbounder: Just Your Local Oysterman (part 2)
Soundbounder: Hauling The Cage  (part 3)
Yale Sustainable Food Project
Our Ocean, Our Lives: The Last Oyster Haul?

Hauling The Cage

Unlike the oysters growing in beds on the bottom of the Sound, Bren's are cultivated in cages which he tends to on a daily basis. These are rectangular, wire mesh contraptions resembling a large lobster pot at first glance. Closer inspection however, reveals there are shelves, or trays inside, supporting the oysters.

Oyster seedlings are grouped in a grow out bag, then placed inside the cage, and lowered into the water. As the oysters grow, they are switched to larger 'bags' with wider mesh to maximize waterflow, yet still restrict predators. It is not an exact science, so an ongoing degree of experimentation is always taking place. Some years, the oysters thrive inside the larger mesh, while in others, a smaller size is needed to thwart preying starfish. Through careful monitoring, the entire balancing act from seedling to harvest takes about three years.

Peter, Helen and myself were also seeking an equilibrium. We were trying to learn as much as possible, without interfering with the work at hand. Some moments were more successful than others!

As Bren began to raise the cage, we gathered around him for a better view. The boat immediately listed hard to starboard before we quickly moved away, providing some ballast. When you're on board with a small, independent, Thimble Islands oysterman, a balancing act can mean many different things.

Thimble Island Oyster Company

Soundbounder: Stony Creek 6am part 1

Soundbounder: Just Your Local Oysterman part 2

Soundbounder: Starfish...And Other Threats part 4

Just Your Local Oysterman

Bren wasn't kidding when he said he never learned to swim. Raised along the shores of Newfoundland, the short summers and biting temperatures of the Labrador Current didn't provide many swimming opportunities. A rugged coastline with a strong maritime tradition, the connection to the sea there is mostly through labor, not recreation. How ironic I thought, for him to now be in Long Island Sound where the reverse equation often exists today.

A man of many hats, Bren worked a variety of jobs including longlining in the Bering Sea, 'sliming' in the canneries of Alaska, and lobstering north of Boston. When the crooked road of life brought him to Connecticut, he drove a lumber truck while also partnering with his girlfriend in a woodcrafting business which uses reclaimed materials*. About seven years ago, the Branford waters were reopened to commercial shellfishing, and he jumped at the chance to return to the sea.

His Thimble Island Oyster Company grows and harvests oysters along with some clams, on 60 aquatic acres leased from the state. The numbers fluctuate from year-to-year, but his annual harvest averages around 100,000 shellfish. While that may appear to be a large number, it is a relatively small amount when compared to other shellfish companies on the Sound. Bren estimates that his annual harvest is less than what Norwalk's Bloom Shellfish Company may harvest in a month.

Though a small operation, he is able to earn a living so long as he keeps his overhead costs low: no secretary or pricey boat.... no hired help to do the heavy lifting. Most important, he is doing what he loves - and that's not too shabby for a Newfie who can't swim.

Thimble Island Oyster Company
Community Supported Fisheries Program
Soundbounder: Stony Creek 6 a.m. part one
Soundbounder: Hauling The Cage part three
Soundbounder: Starfish...And other Threats part four

*Bren continues to supplement his income, partnering with his girlfriend Nicola in their woodcrafting business using reclaimed materials. Bleacher seats from the Yale Bowl are reincarnated as mirror frames, and wood from Brooklyn watertowers become flower pots. You can find them at the Union Square Market during the holiday season.
Nicola & The Newfoundlander
New York Times: Reclaimed Words in Fort Greene

Stony Creek, 6 a.m.

Oystering on Long Island Sound is not always a large enterprise. Early Thursday morning, I arrived at the Stony Creek docks to meet Brendan Smith of the Thimble Island Oyster Company. This is an independent, one-man operation, with Brendan (or Bren) serving as captain, deckhand, marketing director, and part-time mechanic.

Finding a parking space along the narrow streets of Stony Creek can be a chore. The fact that I had a choice of several prime spots was a quick reminder of just how early in the morning it was. Bren was already there, and after some friendly small-talk, there were tasks which began to present themselves. We carried some gear and a large cooler full of ice to the end of the dock, to load into a small skiff which would carry us to his boat in the mooring field. But before we could do that, some rainwater in the skiff needed to be bailed.

Stony Creek is an attractive harbor with the Thimble Islands scattered just beyond its entrance. In the village however, most of them are obscured from view, as only two or three poke out from beyond the point. But as our loaded down skiff cleared the town dock, the full expanse of the granite island chain came into view.

I wasn't the only guest aboard for the day;  Helen Bennett and Peter Hvizdak of the New Haven Register were on hand as well. This was the first time I had met Peter, and prior to this, I had only "known" Helen and Bren through our communications on Twitter. I always have some apprehension meeting online acquaintances because they often are not the same person you thought they would be.

Within minutes however, it was clear this would not be the case today. Both Bren and Helen are every bit as nice in the real world as they are in the virtual world. These characteristics are important aboard a small boat.

The four of us motored through the maze of moorings until the red hull of a 22-foot workboat appeared over my right shoulder. Gliding alongside her, I grabbed a bow-line and fastened it to a cleat at mid-ship. It was about this time that Bren said something very bizarre.
"I don't know how to swim!" He said.
He had to be joking, I thought............right?

(More to follow)
Soundbounder: Just Your Local Oysterman part two
Soundbounder: Hauling The Cage part three
Soundbounder: Starfish...And Other Threats part four

Thimble Island Oysters: website
Helen Bennett on Twitter: @NewsGirlCT
Peter Hvizdak on Twitter: @NHRphizdak
Brendan Smith on Twitter: @organicOysters

Thimble Island Oysters

This morning, I had the opportunity to spend a few hours aboard with Brendan Smith of the Thimble Island Oyster Company. The next several posts will discuss Brendan's work, along with the challenges he faces as a small, independent, local oysterman on Long Island Sound.

Thimble Island Oyster Company
Map

Dead Calm

When Long Island Sound is jokingly referred to as the Dead Sea, it is not because of its high salt content or lack of marine life. The Dead Sea remark pokes fun at the lack of wind here during the peak of summer. Hot, windless days with nearly a ripple on the water's surface.
Like all good jokes, there is an element of truth to this, but it sometimes become overstated. The winds most certainly die in late July and August, but on most days, the prevailing southwesterlies  pick up by mid-afternoon.
There are exceptions of course, and they can be lasting. The heatwave this past week brought a 24-hour hazy stillness to the Sound for several days. No afternoon breeze, no puff of wind in the jib, no sunset sails.

The Mystic Whaler , a 1967 reproduction of a 19th-century schooner, was rebuilt in Providence, Rhode Island in 1993. Based in New London during the summer months, she offers everything from sunset sails to 3-day cruises.
Keeping a busy schedule, Carina and I have crossed paths with her in Greenport, Stonington, and several other ports. She is a beautiful sight to see under-sail.
On this hazy evening however, she wasn't going anywhere fast. Just south of Morgan Point, I spotted her practicing that old 21st-century tradition of trimming the iron genoa.

Mystic Whaler Cruises
Cruising Guide To The New England Coast: General Conditions
Iron Genoa - a sailboat's engine