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Getting Stoned in Marathon
Destinations · October 28, 2001

To understand what makes Florida's stone crab so irresistible, you have to skip the gruesome parts.

Like where you drop a severed pig's foot into an underwater cage to attract the creatures. Or when you forcefully pry the claw off a living crab and then toss the writhing crustacean overboard.

Instead, have a seat on one of the outdoor picnic benches at Keys Fisheries in Marathon, Fla., a resort town about halfway between Key Largo and Key West. That's where, after an afternoon aboard a commercial stone crabbing vessel in the Gulf of Mexico, your steamed catch is served with a side of either melted butter or mustard sauce.

Fresh stone crab is delicious. Its tender, white meat is similar to lobster in both taste and texture, but with one important difference: the crab doesn't croak. When you separate a stone crab from its claw, the limb regenerates. So for all the apparent violence that takes place when pursuing this sought-after seafood, the only real casualties are the pigs.

Not that hunting this delicacy is without its dangers. "A stone crab is capable of applying 19,000 pounds per square inch with its claw," says Bennett Orr, a veteran fisherman and crab expert who helps guide the trips. "The females are the worst - they're fast. The only way to get them off you once they've got you in their grip is to smash them."

Orr underscores the statement by pointing to his artificial leg. "Big one got me there," he adds. (Actually, a stone crab will cut through skin but there's no documented case of one amputating a finger, let alone a leg.)

Keys Fisheries' crab tour, which runs through May 15, brings visitors face-to-face with the bottom-feeders as both an observer and an acting crewmember. It usually takes at least two people to effectively catch crab - one to latch a buoy onto a mechanical lifting device, another to clear the trap.

From the bayside marina it's anywhere from half an hour to an hour to the traps. The 50-foot commercial fishing boat edges alongside the marker buoys and idles in the water while the first crewman hooks the trap to the lifter. He must be careful to stand clear of the device; one careless move and he could get caught in the wheel. The lifter can easily tear a finger from your hand.

The trap, which resembles a large plastic container punched full of holes, is often filled with more than irate crabs. It isn't uncommon to find other shellfish, lobster, conch or octopus flipping around in the raised trap. The crustaceans are removed, separated from their limbs and discarded. Then the trap is returned to the deep along with a fresh pig's foot.

Orr makes it look easy, but it isn't. Simply getting your hands around a crab is a tricky proposition. The smaller ones swing their limbs back and forth quickly trying to evade capture. If you aren't faster, you're stuck. Once you have a firm grasp around the claws, you have to maneuver one of your hands in place between the body and claw. Separating the claw requires a swift, decisive twisting motion. Hesitating could tear the claw too close to the body and kill the crab.

The deck of a commercial fishing vessel becomes a blur of action during crabbing, with each crewmember frantically working to maximize the catch. Over a 12-hour shift, a typical boat empties between 600 and 1,000 traps, but on the abridged Keys Fisheries excursion, you're unlikely to clear more than 30 of them.

Consuming what you catch isn't the only payoff on this trip. The gulf is an enchanting place to visit during the cold months. The teal-colored subtropical waters are warm and teeming with life. And in the early evening the marina becomes an aquatic petting zoo of sorts, as silvery tarpon, angelfish and even a nurse shark surface for an evening feeding ritual.

That's when you understand that stone crab can't just be eaten; it has to be experienced.

Christopher Elliott is a travel commentator based in Key Largo, Fla.