The Oyster Blog

The official Anderson's Neck blog with progress updates on our mission to Save the Bay One Oyster at a Time. We will notify you when we post new articles if you Join Our Mailing List.

So in the process of buying equipment for our oyster farm, I was asked casually at least twice by two different suppliers if I was going to the Ocean City, Maryland conference. I had no idea what they were talking about. I realized I’d better figure it out though. After a little research, I realized they were referring to the “East Coast Commercial Fishermen’s & Aquaculture Trade Exposition” in Ocean City, Maryland. It sounded like anyone that was anyone in the oyster business would be there.

My first thought was, well it’s in Maryland. How far away can that be? Maybe I should check it out. Well if you are from Central Virginia and find Ocean City, MD on a map, there is the obvious first reaction: Did God intentionally design the entire Chesapeake Bay for the sole purpose of making it difficult to get from Richmond, VA to Ocean City, MD? Good God, you have to drive in a gigantic semicircle around the Chesapeake Bay through Northern Virginia, around Washington DC, through Annapolis, and then across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to the Delmarva Peninsula, cross briefly into Delaware and then back down to Ocean City, MD. That’s a lot of modern day sprawl, bridges, and corn fields to navigate just to chat it up with a bunch of oyster dudes. Plus if you take the alternate route back heading south, you have to navigate the entire bucolic Eastern shore of Maryland and Virginia to eventually arrive at the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel and cross the southern extremity of the Chesapeake Bay. Then you get the added pleasure of navigating Hampton Roads/ Newport News/Portsmouth/Norfolk/Tidewater/ Virginia Beach (can you please come up with one name for this cluster of an area folks?) to get back on the Peninsula via Interstate 64 and head back up to Richmond through stop and go traffic the entire way. Sounded exhausting, let’s do it!

Ok, so Ocean City is no Las Vegas. That much is known. And oysters, well maybe they don’t quite compete with the excitement of Cirque du Soleil and craps tables. For me, however, it was a chance to meet the movers and shakers of the industry in one place and find out who the true innovators were in this industry. However, I did have one logistical problem. I was already booked to work on the never-ending oyster shed at The Neck that weekend with my friend Wilson. So I texted Wilson and asked what he thought about a road trip as a change of plans. If we were going to Vegas or Atlantic City, no problem, he would be game. But Ocean City? I was not so sure he would be up for that. I suggested we stop in Annapolis Friday and hit one of my favorite bars, the Middleton Tavern, before driving the rest of the way. This legendary dive bar serves oyster shooters as their signature item. Being close to the Naval Academy, plenty of interesting times were also sure to transpire, or so we thought. Wilson eventually relented and agreed to humor me on the road trip. So it was.

We headed out on a Friday after work and eventually found our way into Annapolis. We parked downtown as close to the Middleton Tavern as possible. The streets are ridiculously narrow in Annapolis considering the road system was designed to accommodate horse and buggies, not over-sized pickup trucks. Nonetheless we found a spot and hiked the rest of the way to the tavern. Once there, I ordered up a dozen oyster shooters and some beers to start the night. We knocked down the shooters in no time and chased it with the high volume/low quality beer they poured as a chaser. I think they called the beer “Natty Boh.” Apparently National Bohemian Beer (aka, Natty Boh) is legendary in Baltimore and Annapolis. Its tag line “From the Land of Pleasant Living” is a reference to the Chesapeake Bay lifestyle. I checked the brewery’s website and they have a survey asking “Why do you drink Natty Boh?” Apparently the brewery is just as surprised as Wilson and I were that people would actually willingly drink this stuff. The four eligible responses to the survey are: 1) My parent’s drank it (the sheepish answer), 2) It’s affordable (the cheap answer), 3) Baltimore Pride (the hometown blind loyalty answer), or 4) It tastes good (the delusional answer). As of writing this article, less than 22% claim to drink the stuff because it tastes good, not a good sign. Well whatever the beer was, Wilson reminded me frequently and loudly that it wasn’t good.

Well speaking of not good, we soon attracted a cherubic visitor. We came to refer to her as Mustang Sally. Mustang Sally had separated from her husband and left him with two kids. She proceeded to inform us she had traded in her mini-van, bought a new Mustang, secured a small apartment with an air mattress, and this was her first night of newfound freedom. I looked at Wilson signaling telepathically with my eyes: “Good Lord what have we got ourselves into?” The glitter eye shadow on the 40 year old already warned us that bad things were coming our way, but her story confirmed our worst fears. What a train wreck! I proceeded to make it abundantly clear that I was a happily married man but my co-pilot was available as I shuffled over to put her closer to Wilson. Wilson did not appreciate this deflection as he later let me know (again frequently and loudly). So we looked at each other while Mustang Sally talked, and talked, and talked. Somehow after the night had been shot to pieces, we made up an excuse to blow out of there. Wilson commented after we found the exit, “I suddenly feel a lot better about practically everything involving my life after hearing her story. That little meet up beats therapy sessions and is a heck of a lot cheaper.” Yes sad, but definitely true.

Mustang Sally had ruined the buzz. We slinked back to the truck so we could check into the hotel. When we got there, I found the driver’s side mirror of my truck had been side swiped. Crap, it was brand new and now I had the rest of the road trip to drive with no mirror. I tried to inspect the mirror only to come within an inch of losing my life to a pickup truck that wizzed by, nearly clipping me with his side view mirror. I jumped in the truck and reached out to try and remove the mirror only to come within inches of losing my arm to passing traffic blowing by at a high rate of speed. I came to the conclusion that the mirror was going to stay right where it was, smashing into the side of my truck while I drove to a better location to remove all the wires.

We finally settled in for the night at the local hotel and got some shuteye. Like an alarm clock I sprang out of bed as usual before 5AM. I got dressed and headed down to the lobby to see if I could locate some coffee. No luck, I was too early. The guy behind the lobby desk told me the closest 7-11 was miles away and I probably wouldn’t want to walk that far in the cold. I told him I needed to get some exercise, thanked him for the directions, and headed out. Several miles later I saw a little bagel shop that was open and ordered up some coffee and a bagel. It was run by a retired Naval officer and all the Naval Academy Midshipmen were stopping in that morning to grab something to go. I read a newspaper, a local newsletter on the Upper Chesapeake Bay, finished off a book I brought, and then decided I would start heading back. On the return hike I passed the Naval Academy football stadium. Someone from facilities management was working and had left the gate wide open. I slipped in to take a look. The entrance had a nice monument dedicated in remembrance to all the wars the sailors had fought over the centuries. Pretty impressive facility, I wonder what it would look like full of Midshipmen and Army Cadets for an Army vs. Navy game. It has to be crazy.

Right about then, my phone started blowing up. Wilson was ready for some breakfast. I double timed it back to the hotel and we walked the main drag to find a breakfast spot. We landed at a diner that was decorated in the same original orange and yellow vinyl from the 50s. The staff members stand at attention in the morning to say the Pledge of Allegiance as standard operating procedure. They also have enormous milkshake glasses as part of their kitsch. This was true Americana and belonged on a Diner and Dives TV episode.

With a proper breakfast, we picked up the truck from the hotel valet and made the way to Ocean City. Crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge along the way absolutely gave me goose bumps. The bridge itself is unique with its curved shape and the view is incredible. On top of that bridge you gain a real perspective for just how magnificent and profound the Chesapeake Bay really is in both size and scope.

Crossing the Eastern Shore through Maryland and briefly into Delaware was filled with goose and duck sightings. They are absolutely everywhere. I pointed out to Wilson, “look up there, see all those barely perceptible dots up in the sky? Those are geese.” Wilson retorted in disbelief: “Where? Oh, I see. Nah, no way!” Then his eyes went wide as he realized I was right. “Holy crap.” The myriad of different geese species was unfathomable and the sheer quantity was like nothing either of us had ever seen. They looked like millions of tiny gnats flying in formation in the sky. Plus every field we passed was specked with geese who were feeding on excess corn lying on the ground. Simply amazing.

We finally made it to Ocean City and checked into the Hilton on the beach, which was within walking distance of the conference. We hiked over to the conference and I was like a kid in a candy store. The millions of different supplies, components, experts, scientists, etc, that I had laboriously researched and read about online, were all in one place. I could actually talk to a human being or two about the myriad problems I was trying to solve. The most fascinating part was to see the various oyster upwellers all in the same room. Wilson and I grilled the suppliers about their designs and the rationale they used for making their decisions. These innovators were very proud of their inventions and went into great length explaining the various components. The banter between tinkerers was challenging, yet respectful of the thought that was given to the designs. Both Wilson and I enjoyed it immensely.

One unexpected tidbit we learned at the conference was a dirty little secret about some of the existing oyster companies in Virginia. Apparently some rather large and well know oyster companies do not actually grow their own oysters! I was shocked when I first heard this. After I thought about it, it sort of made sense, however. Growing oysters was backbreaking work. Why go to all that trouble if you can buy oysters from an oyster farmer, slap your name on the bag, and then distribute the product to restaurants for a handy profit claiming the oysters as your own? These oyster companies are nothing but glorified marketing companies who distribute oysters raised by others. I don’t know why that surprised me as much as it did, because every other agricultural market works that same way. However, it took all the beauty out of the equation for me; it felt inauthentic. I wanted to feel the burn as I worked the oyster cages, hauled the precious beauties to market, and saw a smiling chef eagerly awaiting shipment of our premium oysters. I wanted to tell the chefs how much I appreciated their support. I wanted to congratulate them on their contribution to a cleaner Chesapeake Bay by putting our sustainable oysters on the menu. That was the satisfaction I craved. I wanted to make a difference. I didn’t want to be the equivalent of a grocery store selling other people’s oysters. How would I know they raised the oysters using sustainable best management practices if I did that? No way, I wasn’t going to take the easy way out. We were going to grow our oysters the right way. Blood, sweat, and tears were part of the allure of this wonderful journey. We weren’t going to pretend to be oyster farmers; we were actually going to be oyster farmers.

So after learning as much as we possibly could at the conference, Wilson and I went into brainstorming mode. We could hardly wait. We spread out a table in the food court area and got to work right away. We came up with some crazy sketches that were a play on the existing technology, but took it several steps further. Most of this I cannot share in this blog as we are working to bring our inventions to market and test the prototypes on our farm. I can say however, that some ideas were radical, and need more time to be fully thought through before deciding if we want try and build them for the purposes of testing.

That night at the hotel, I could hardly sleep. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I gave up. I took a shower and laid out a workstation in the suite living room where I could work on the different designs we had discussed. I also went through an exhausting pros and cons list evaluation based upon the specific characteristics of our location on the York River.

The following morning, we drove the long haul down the Eastern Shore. I was able to revisit the same place where my Dad, his wife Bev, Laura, and I had vacationed back in 2007. This is where I had fallen in love with the Chesapeake Bay. That trip had ignited a passion for conserving its land, water, and traditions in me I was only now beginning to understand. I had come full circle.

We eventually arrived at the southern tip of the Eastern Shore and the excitement rose as we began crossing the enormous Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. Wilson was busy snapping photos in awe of the view. I tried to take in as much as I could without driving my truck off the side of the bridge. We were crossing the Chesapeake Bay at the opposite extreme that we had crossed just two days prior up in Maryland. Only by taking such a trip are you truly able to appreciate the enormous size of this amazing estuary.

I was glad to have Wilson along for some company on this trip. We had learned a lot. It was helpful to bounce ideas back and forth as there were an overwhelming number of decisions to be made about our farm. Once I arrived home, I spent the rest of the night putting into writing what I absorbed, and sending it to Wilson as a proposed way forward. I had made quite a few decisions in that one email. Wilson, and many others, would be crucial in helping me solve an enormous number of logistical design, legal, and operational challenges, but I had set a course. Given all the facts and circumstances it was the best way forward given the technology within our reach, and the time we had. My plan was a significant deviation from the current plan, but I was convinced it was the way to go. We needed to pivot given what I had learned and experienced in the first year of farming. Now it was time to move on to design mode and convince everyone involved that we needed to change course.

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