Fresh Shrimp

by Nancy Rogers

When asked what he thinks about the future of the shrimping industry in South Carolina, former commercial fisherman Charles Clark, says, “It ain’t good, I can tell you that much. I think that in 30 years, maybe 20, tourists will buy tickets to go out on restored shrimp boats to watch tour guides demonstrate how shrimpin’ was done in the ‘old days.’”

Once a thriving industry along the Carolina coast, the local shrimp industry is facing almost insurmountable odds, Clark maintains. A market rocked by rising fuel costs, the growing popularity of pond-raised shrimp and government regulations are the culprits, he explains.

“I was raised in Arkansas, but I’m related to half the people in Georgetown,” Clark says, as he welcomes me to his home. A collection of anchors, buoys and a small wooden boat dot the yard of this family compound located less than a mile from the center of Georgetown; a large storage barn near the back of the house is overflowing with fishing gear from generations before. “Do you mind if we talk while I’m at the sink?” Clark asks, as we go inside. “I thought I’d fix us some lunch. I hope you like shrimp and beer.”

The Life Aquatic
“I started commercial fishin’ with my uncle, Richard Jordan, back in 1984,” Clark offers. “Back then, the whole family done it. Richard’s dead now, but he used to own two shrimp boats – a 75-foot trawler named ‘The Cap’t Andrew’ and a 45-footer named the ‘Miss Peggy’.

“Commercial fishin’s hard work, but I loved it,” Clark reminisces. “From Winyah Bay in Georgetown, we’d set out at about 3:30 in the mornin’ and, dependin’ on the tides, get to the open ocean within one-and-a-half to two hours. Then we’d set our nets and start draggin’.”

Shrimp, Clark explains, tend to stay close to the shoreline, so most of the dragging is done within site of the shore. Beyond the four-or five-mile mark, the ocean floor becomes too rocky to drag successfully without tearing up the nets.
“On an average, we’d catch 1,200, maybe 1,500 pounds of shrimp a day. That’s 17 to 20 baskets full of shrimp and other fish that had to be sorted while we were on our knees.” A basket, he later explains, is about the size of a large laundry basket.
“Of course, shrimpin’s where we made the most money, but back then there were a lot of things we could do to make a little extra money,” he says. “We used to sell caviar and we made good money catchin’ sturgeon. Then 12 to 15 years ago, the state put sturgeon on an endangered list and closed down the season on them. They said they’d reopen the season in seven years, but they never did.”

“When tidal surges caused by hurricanes flush shrimp out into the ocean, you can catch maybe 30 to 40 baskets a day,” Clark continues. “But even heavy rains can do the same thing. That’s because shrimp can’t live in fresh water; if you get heavy rains, they’ll swim back out to sea.”

Shrimp, he says, spawn at sea and depend upon the tides to bring the eggs to shore where they get caught in the sea grass along the shore. “And that’s where the baby shrimp grow and mature,” he adds.

The first shrimp of the year – those caught in May and early June – are the offspring of roe left over from last year’s crop of white shrimp, Clark says. Brown shrimp make their appearance in June. Early in the season, they tend to be small – 40 to 50 count (shrimp per pound). Toward the end of the season in September, the browns tend to be much larger, perhaps 20 to 36 count.
“You can’t scrap or drag net like you used to could,” Clark says. “Scrappin’ is slang for the times when you can’t locate the shrimp, but you’re desperate to catch somethin.’ In some areas, though, the state has limited scrappin’ because they said we were catchin’ too many turtles...it ain’t like you could help it. But that’s the way it goes.

“Guys don’t get into commercial fishin’ to get rich. They do it because they’re born into fishin’ families [who do it] and love bein’ out in the ocean. All they ask is to be able to support their families [while] doin’ it. Shrimpin’ used to be a good life, but not anymore. There’s no future [in it] for the next generation.”

Fresh from the sea
“I’ve been sellin’ shrimp from the corner of Highway 17 and the North Causeway in Pawleys Island since 1994, and I only sell shrimp that I’ve bought from friends and family,” he says. “I could sell imported and frozen shrimp – people ask me why I don’t all the time. But I ain’t going to do that.

“I sell the freshest shrimp you can buy because I only buy the last drag of the day. Otherwise, the shrimp would have to be dipped in sulfides to preserve it, and I don’t want to sell shrimp with chemicals on it.”

Clark usually sells his shrimp heads-on, which can’t be done with shrimp that is the least bit old because within hours, the heads begin to separate from the bodies. “A shrimp holds up pretty good for about a week if it’s headed as soon as it’s netted,” he says. “But if it’s heads-on, it has to be really fresh.” Always select shrimp that is the same color throughout, he advises. If you see any black or orange anywhere on the shrimp, the shrimp has been held too long.

“I quit fishin’ fulltime back in 1994 when I started sellin’ shrimp, instead,” Clark says. “But sometimes I think about goin’ back to it, and I’d do it if I could. But I’m 47 – I’m just a poor old fellow, and my back won’t take it anymore. Shrimpin’s a young man’s sport.” SCM