Our St. John’s River Crabbing Adventure: Crab Traps, Pinchers, and Skiff Chaos
Sep 30
4 min read
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You’d think crabbing would be simple: toss a trap in, wait a bit, pull up dinner. But no—when we go crabbing, it turns into a full-on comedy of errors.
Step One: Where’s the Ramp?
Our St Johns River crabbing adventure all started at Brown’s Landing in Palatka, Florida. I had never been there before, and when we pulled up, I realized the dark river was running so high the entire boat ramp and turning area was underwater. Somewhere out there was a slippery ramp—I just had to find it. So, of course, I waded in, toes searching for submerged concrete, praying I wouldn’t trip or slip. Nothing says “relaxing day on the water” like searching around with your toes for submerged concrete."
Our boat for the weekend was our small Skimmer Skiff—great for skinny water, not so great for extra space. Once it was launched, we stacked four custom made Wishard Wire Crab Traps inside (even though two is really the max for the boat), which left me perched crisscrossed on a cooler like part of a circus act. Before we even dropped the first trap, I knew “trap management” was going to be interesting.
Step Two: Lose a Trap
Our 14'6 skiff is a straightforward boat perfect for sight fishing and navigating shallow waters without the need for electronics. We traveled less than a mile to our first spot, where I had to carefully balance on a cooler to bait each trap and ensure the buoy line was untangled and ready to drop. We usually set our traps just a stone's throw from shore, and we approached this new area as we always do. Our typical method involves dropping the trap and, if the buoy line appears too long, simply shortening it. Sounds simple, right? However, our buoy line was 25 feet long... and, unbeknownst to us, the location we chose was a 35-foot deep hole.
In a matter of seconds, the trap vanished—buoy and all—straight to the bottom. My husband and I just stared at each other, frozen. No way to jump in after it, and no way to mark the spot—since, of course, we had no electronics running.
A FEW MOMENTS LATER... a bass fisherman came cruising by and confirmed our worst fears: “Oh yeah, that’s a deep hole. Some structure down there too.” Pretty sure we know what that "structure" is!
Lesson learned: Don’t let go of the buoy until the trap hits bottom.
Step Three: Try, Fail, Repeat
We spent the next couple of days dragging an old kayak anchor around, hoping to snag the lost trap. We worked in a zig zag pattern as if we were the Coast Guard, but we really doubt the light weigh anchor was able to reach the bottom due to the river’s strong current.
Lesson learned: When on the skiff, always open the Garmin phone app and be prepared to drop a pin to mark whatever might disappear into the river.
Step Four: Crab Wrestling
The remaining three traps did their job—we pulled up a mix of keepers and little ones to toss back. But we’d forgotten one critical tool: crab tongs.
No problem, my husband decided. He grabbed the first one barehanded, right behind the fin where “they can’t reach.” Supposedly! This first crab had Olympic-level flexibility and clamped down on his pinky finger like it had been training its whole life for this one moment. Crabs don’t just pinch—they mean it.
After some strong language and a very red finger, we later searched our campsite and discovered some cooking tongs that we repurposed to handling live crabs for the rest of the weekend. Not elegant, but effective.
Lesson learned: Crab tongs belong on the packing list.
Step Five: The Skiff Shuffle
Our skiff is narrow as a hallway, and a loaded trap is about the same width as the boat. Pulling up a crab trap required circus-worthy balance. I twisted, shuffled, and shook like I was auditioning for “Dancing with the Crabs,” while trying to empty the catch without sending a crab—or myself—overboard. My husband swears I nearly clocked him with a trap more than once, but I disagree.
Lesson learned: Yoga might actually be a useful boating skill.
Step Six: Laugh About St Johns River Crabbing (Eventually)
In the end, we came home with a good catch, plenty of laughs, and one less trap. The crabs gained a forever home, my husband gained a bruised finger, and I discovered I can apparently invent a crab-inspired dance routine on demand.
Somewhere at the bottom of the the St. Johns River a very lucky crab family is living rent-free in a beautiful trap. And us? We came home with dinner, a great story, and slightly less pride than we started with.
Lesson learned: Don’t take mishaps too seriously—just laugh them off and enjoy the moment.
Thanks for letting us share our Florida Native Life with you.
If you haven't seen it yet, be sure to check out the rest of our weekend adventures on our Murphy Island Primitive Camping blog post.
New Arrivals: Crab Swag Hits Florida Native Life Shop
Crab Swag at the Florida Native Life Shop is a celebration of our Florida coastal culture. Don't miss the chance to add a something a little crabby to your collection. P.S. These also make great gifts for the person in your life who is difficult to shop for. You know the one - when picking the gift is as difficult as finding a lost crab trap in the St. Johns River.
Thanks so much for the story!