Clamming is Hard Work, says Steve Kuhn of Sayville, a pro for over 50 years. Yet with all that hard work, at 78, he’s still at it. Out on his boat a couple of times a week. “If I’m off the water a few days, I can’t wait to get back out there.”
Kuhn’s love of clamming began when he was a college student (it ended up paying his way through). He’d always enjoyed the outdoors and exercise, and when a friend asked him to go out on his boat— “a beautiful sunny day with light winds and the temperature in the high 60s or low 70s”—he was hooked or raked in.
The author has thrown his clamming rake from Patchogue to Babylon, and when he was 50, and the Great South Bay was in decline, he did a five-year stint in Staten Island. The straits and rivers surrounding Staten Island were deeper than the Great South Bay, “a totally different ballgame.” Kuhn took up the challenge and “felt like a kid again… learning everything anew.”
Pulling a steel rake attached to an aluminum pole through a sandy bay bottom (depths can go as far down as 24 feet) on a rocking motored boat is only for those in “clamming shape.” With your arms, stomach, shoulders, and legs, your whole body gets “worked out.” Note to the novice: “…expect your hands to feel like chopped meat after the first day.” Whew! I’m tired just writing this.
Kuhn explains that both the rake and poles must be the proper length. The rake’s teeth also matter. The length you choose depends on the time of year, the type of bottom, and the depth at which the clams are found. Additionally, consider the weight of the “grab” (the catch in the basket attached to the rake) as you heave it out of the water.
Body strength and stamina are essential to the task, but you must also use your head. Understand the different water tables and recognize when you need a break and when it’s time to hydrate. And eat –15 minutes out of an eight-hour day. Like the Kenny Rogers song says, “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” There’s a particular know-how to it. “Some guys couldn’t catch clams no matter what they did. You have to have a feel for it.”
Clamming works best when the wind is “blowing easy” and the tide flows in the same direction. However, the bay is a “dynamic environment.” Conditions can change rapidly. Kuhn has endured oppressive heat and frigid weather, adapting his body and rakes to accommodate sudden shifts. He recounts walking a quarter mile on a frozen bay while hauling supplies on a sled he built, cutting through the ice with a chainsaw and axe to reach his personal best. “It’s amazing what you can achieve when you set your goals high and dedicate yourself to them.”
Clams aren’t the only thing Kuhn has dug up in his decades of bay work. Among a 50-pound anchor covered in barnacles and oysters, an old gun he handed off to police, and a wallet with $80 and an ID still intact. (Kuhn estimates the find was four years in the deep). He showed up at the address, and it turned out that the owner was now in the Navy. His mom thanked him “up and down for being honest.” But he “never did hear from the son.”
Hard Work tells of the day-to-day life of a commercial clammer. “a dying way of life,” lamented Kuhn at an East Hampton Library talk: “Once, there were thousands of guys doing this. Now you can count them on two hands.”
The crisis is partly due to overfishing, water pollution, and environmental change. However, the author remains hopeful that a mindful public will help restore the “brown waters” and increase the shellfish population.
Kuhn expresses gratitude to his sons, Liam and Rory, for assisting him in picking and counting clams, as well as to his wife, Bigi, “who made it all easier.” He dedicates the book to the “hardworking baymen he encountered on this journey.”
Steve Kuhn is a man who clearly loves his work. And I don’t think he’ll clam up about it anytime too soon.
Check out his website, clampower.org to learn more about him and his fellow Baymen.
