"Always, since I've been doing this, there was peaks and valleys," Somers says of vagaries in the crab catch. He has been crabbing full time 24 of his 43 years and part time in his youth. Through it all, he says, he never worried about making a living - until now. Increasing regulation of fishing is making it harder, he says.
He has two sons, 9 and 10, and as much as he loves working on the water, he says, "I'm scared to encourage them to do this, the way things are headed."
For now, Somers and his helpers work in a carefully choreographed rhythm, gathering what they can. With the Holland's Island light in the distance, he guides the boat up to a buoy, then reels in a rope connecting a crab pot to the float.
What follows is reminiscent of an assembly line. One of Somers' crew, 27-year-old Jake Jones, hoists the crab pot on board. He dumps out the dead fish used as bait, then flips the trap over so Lewis Monzeglio, 42, can drop in a fresh bait fish.
Next, Jones shakes out the crabs into a shallow wooden box, closes the pot back up and dumps it overboard. Monzeglio scoops up the scrambling crabs and tosses them into a bushel basket.
The entire process takes less than 30 seconds and is repeated more than 100 times in rapid succession as Somers nudges the boat from buoy to buoy set in a line across about two miles of water. Then they motor to the next string of pots and start again.
"Nobody else does it faster," boasts Jones. Through it all, the dog Max patrols the boat, hopping onto the rail, barking into the wind and keeping a close eye on the crabs - one eye only, since the other was put out in a car accident. Undeterred, he grabs a crab that has escaped the basket and bites and shakes it until it stops moving. The men work without speaking much, as loudspeakers blare country or rock music over the din of the engine. By early afternoon, Somers and his crew have fished 700 crab pots, amassing 47 bushels of females and a half-bushel of males. It's well under the 80-bushel daily maximum he could catch, but Somers says it's about what he expects at this time of year.
He heads toward Crisfield to unload his catch and drop off Monzeglio, who's due to start a night shift at his second job, as a guard in the Somerset County detention center. Somers gets back to the dock nearly 11 hours after he set out. He'll keep up the pace, fishing even more crab pots, weather and health permitting, every day but Sunday. After Wednesday, he says, he's not sure what he'll do - at least until Dec. 1, when he can go back out on the water to catch striped bass, or rockfish.
Maryland has set aside $3 million to provide work for watermen who'll lose crabbing income. Congress has approved federal disaster relief for the bay crab industry - perhaps as much as $15 million for each state - though it's not clear how soon it could start flowing. The aid will be available to at least some of the nearly 2,000 Marylanders officials say are permitted to catch female crabs, plus the crab-processing businesses that will lose product to sell.
Asked whether he'll apply for the state work - rebuilding oyster reefs, planting trees and restoring wetlands - or for the federal assistance, Somers frowns and shakes his head. He'd rather have an extra week or two to crab, he says.
"It's a hardship," he says of the rules.
