Full disclosure: I am pretty sure I’m the clumsiest, least competent crabber in the Salish Sea. Over the years, an assortment of lines, rings, and bait boxes have slipped through my fingers and into the drink. I have fallen out of dinghies and stumbled on docks, tossing equipment into the air. Once I shoved a crab hook into my thumb. Yet I keep at it, because I have discovered that crabbing can add fun to any boat trip.

First, there is the thrill of the catch—pulling up a trap to discover that my bait actually did attract several robust and succulent crabs. The search for crabs puts me close to the elements, bringing a hyper-awareness of the vibrant world under my boat. In addition to connecting with nature, it links me to those who harvested the sea’s bounty in past centuries.

Today’s crabbers are part of an ongoing story in Puget Sound. Catching your own dinner can be a very satisfying experience, and there is nothing like the taste of fresh crab. Although crabbing takes specialized equipment and some instruction, the requirements are not insurmountable. In other words, if I can do it, just about anyone can.

Claws for Celebration

My husband Frank and I got our first crab pot—a round, collapsible trap—for free at a boater’s swap meet in Seattle. A crabbing seminar at the boat show provided an instruction booklet, ruler, and wooden mallet, and we purchased a red-and-white buoy and a special line. Armed with this equipment and a license, we began our quest for crab in the South Sound. Mostly we sought Dungeness crabs, known for their sweet, delicate flavor.

Frank’s friends advised that aged cat food and raw chicken would be the ideal bait, and when I opened the hatch and entered our boat’s cabin, the smell nearly knocked me flat. “How are we going to sleep here tonight?” I sputtered, wondering how such a vile aroma could attract anything good.

As I pondered the pros and cons of storing the bait outside, Frank climbed into the dinghy and set the pot in our anchorage. For the next several weeks we tried various locations, including Anderson Island and Pickering Passage. Our trap snagged a boot, various plant life, and a sculpin (which we released), but not a single crab. Later we learned that although it was crab season in the South Sound, the region had been pretty much wiped out.

Then we discovered Anacortes. Our first attempt at crabbing off Guemes Island was a rousing success that we were not prepared for. Frank set two square traps that filled within hours. “Look at this!” he cried, lifting a trap heavy with crabs from the dinghy and plopping it into the cockpit, ”You find the males while I get the other pot.” With my ruler in hand, along with a diagram to identify females (who needed to be returned to the water), I opened the trap to get the first crab. The creatures, however, were not willing to be examined one at a time, and soon they all tumbled out onto the deck, where they marched around freely, waving their claws with belligerence like a scene from the 1957 movie “Attack of the Crab Monsters.” I love this cult classic, which has entertained generations of Northwest audiences through the years at the Orpheum Theater and Sno-King Drive In. But now I was living it. Grabbing a pair of thick gloves, I managed to drop some of the wandering specimens into a bucket just as Frank pulled up with another full trap. He cooked the males in saltwater, serving them with melted butter—and dinner was never sweeter than that night in our cockpit.

Our most memorable crabbing experience took place at Spencer Spit on Lopez Island. It was a lazy midsummer afternoon, and we were three couples, all family, in two rafted sailboats. My cousin, new to the San Juan Islands, repeatedly inquired about nearby Shaw Island. He asked, “Why is it called that?” so many times that finally in desperation I told him it was named after the playwright George Bernard Shaw (it was not).

The crew found this so hilarious that we joked about it all afternoon. Clearly the wine at lunch had encouraged us to see humor in unlikely topics. When Frank dropped a crab pot over the side of our boat and pulled up one male crab, we named him “George Bernard Claw.” George ended up in a cioppino prepared by my brother-in-law Steve. Before our meal, we continued the literary theme by paraphrasing Dickens in a toast, “It was the best of times for us, it was the worst of times for him.” I felt a pang of regret for our crab, which faded quickly when I tasted the cioppino. For all our frivolity, we were grateful for the catch, and to this day when we are together eating crab we pay homage “to George Bernard Claw and his kin.”

From Sea to Table

Dungeness crabs are an important symbol of the maritime culture of the Pacific Northwest, representing the bountiful and renewable resources of the sea. Coast Salish people have harvested these shellfish for thousands of years, incorporating them into ceremonies and communal gatherings. They have become part of the regional identity, much like the blue crabs of the Chesapeake Bay and the king crabs of Alaska.

Crabbing was a serious business in Puget Sound in the late nineteenth century. When Croatian immigrants left the Adriatic Sea and settled in Anacortes, for instance, they quickly discovered the appeal and marketability of these shellfish. West Coast cities, including San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle had developed an appetite for the sweet taste and smooth texture of Dungeness crabs in particular—and Anacortes became a major supplier.

Commercial crabbers were highly sought after. The Seattle Daily Times repeatedly posted want ads for “married men” willing to harvest shellfish in northern Puget Sound. “There is a good demand for crabs,” one reporter explained, “with few on the market” [Dec. 18, 1897]. Peter Babarovich, one of the first region’s first commercial crabbers, packed his catch in ice, shipping it from Anacortes to the Seattle market on trains. By the 1920s several crab shacks had lined the western shore of the Cap Sante basin in Anacortes. A “live box” kept the crabs fresh until they were loaded on trucks bound for Seattle. Advancements in transportation and refrigeration expedited shipments, and the canneries that emerged on the shores of Puget Sound in the early twentieth century further widened the market.

Northwest cookbooks and early menus reflected the cuisine enabled by this bounty. The Web Foot Cookbook, dating from 1885, featured several crab recipes, explaining how to “devil” the meat in a “pudding dish,” and how to remove the eggs from females. Similarly, Selected Recipes for Nelson Fancy Dungeness Crabmeat, issued from Tokeland on Willapa Bay in the 1930s, suggested crab burgers, crab shortcake de luxe, and several vague and whimsically named dishes, including crab delight, crab surprise, and my favorite, smoked crab dreams. In 1933, at the height of the Great Depression, the Olympic Hotel in Seattle listed crab cocktail, crab legs, cracked crab, and crab creole among the dishes offered in its dining room. The following year, a restaurateur in Seattle praised the “splendid” crabs of Puget Sound, noting that Crab Louis was one of her most popular menu items [Seattle Post-Intelligencer Oct. 19, 1934].

Shell We Eat?

Crabbing became a significant recreational activity in Puget Sound after World War II. Today, according to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, sport crabbers catch more than 1.5 million pounds of Dungeness crab every year “using pots, ring nets, and—in the case of wade and dive fishers—their bare hands.” State regulations typically allow harvesting in summer and, like many families, Frank and I associate crab feasts with warm weather and long sunny days. “Summer wouldn’t be the same in Puget Sound without going crabbing for Dungeness!” reported one source [“The Ultimate Puget Sound Crabbing Guide,” Riptidefish, May 29, 2018].

Even so, a few years ago Frank and I got a taste of crabbing in November—and it was a fall to remember. The season had been extended in northern Puget Sound, and when friends invited us on their Tollycraft 57 to try crabbing in the icy waters of Guemes Channel we jumped at the chance. We cruised their boat north from Olympia, anchoring at Port Townsend for the night. After docking the trawler in Anacortes, we ran the dinghy to drop our pots around Guemes Island. Frigid spray hit us as we bounced along in the chop, grateful for our foul weather gear. I had to flex my frozen fingers, encased in thick gloves, to lower the gear as I glanced at snowy Mount Baker [Koma Kulshan] towering in the distance. For several days, ours was the only boat out there, which would never have been the case during summer. This lonely pursuit proved productive, however, and each night we brought home traps filled with hefty crabs.

It was just in time for Thanksgiving. That year, our family prepared several crab dishes, mixing the shellfish into stuffing and stews. For all the sumptuous possibilities, everyone at our table preferred the crab plain—boiled or steamed with melted butter for dipping. As my cousins cracked the claws and picked out the meat with tiny forks, we all agreed: this is a dish that requires no embellishment. And once you’ve tasted fresh crab, you’ll never want to go back to frozen or processed. “I don’t know how we’ll ever top this feast,” my cousin remarked. Frank and I looked at each other. That’s what we say every time we catch our own dinner from a boat.

 

Steve Stanley’s recipe for crab cioppino on a boat

The author’s brother-in-law has cruised many places, including the Bay Area and the Chesapeake, and has concluded that “nothing beats Dungeness crab.” While we prefer our crab plain, dipped in butter, cioppino is a good way to expand the meal, as we did while rafting at Spencer Spit. In general, you can use whatever is handy on your boat.

For the broth:

• Sautee chopped onion and celery in olive oil
• Stir in minced garlic
• Add V8 (Steve’s favorite) or Clamato, tomato juice, and/or chicken bouillon with canned tomatoes
• Add 1/2 cube of butter
• If desired, stir in diced potatoes, Italian seasoning mix, cayenne pepper, white wine, garlic powder, and/or onion powder (all optional)
• Simmer on low heat for 20 minutes or so

And the best part:

• Remove the back from the body of the crab; wash with cold water
• Break into large pieces before adding raw meat to broth
• Add fish and/or shrimp if desired
• Cook for 20 minutes or until seafood is done
• Garnish with flat leaf parsley
• Serve with bread or pasta and Tabasco sauce

 

Lisa Mighetto is a historian and sailor residing in Seattle. She is grateful to the Anacortes Museum for information and images. She recommends checking the 2025 Seattle Boat Show schedule for crabbing seminars. For information on crabbing equipment, techniques, and regulations, see: https://wdfw.wa.gov/fishing/shellfishing-regulations/crab