WHEEL WATCH: More memories of trucks, cars, and lobster traps

Reflections on the joys and challenges of “creative” trap stacking and “crazy high” loads

Lew Black (left; red shirt), Tim Pemberton, and Tim’s stalwart 1981 Ford Fairmont, loaded with a dozen 4’ wooden Anderson offshore lobster traps. Photo courtesy of Brian Robbins.

Brian Robbins.

April 21, 2026

By Brian Robbins

Since we last gathered, I’ve been thinking some more about how things have changed when it comes to the average lobsterman’s pickup.

As discussed previously, the art of whacking the aft half of the body off the family sedan and replacing it with a wooden bed is definitely a lost one.

And let’s face it: how many modern sedans could pull it off? What would be left after you got done with the cutting torch – and how many traps could it actually lug?

Of course, that’s another part of the equation that’s changed over the years: there are lobstermen these days who have never known the challenge of stacking a crazy high, power line-scuffing load of traps on a pickup (or cut-off clam wagon). They grew up lugging lobster gear on flatbed trailers – and we’re talking wire traps vs. the wooden lobster gear of yesteryear.

During the years when my brother Stevie was fishing inshore, he had 36”-long half-round traps that we built ourselves out of oak stock. The late ‘50s-vintage short body Ford pickup he had when he first started out full-time lobstering had limited carrying space, but was a rugged little beast for its size. With some creative stacking – tailgate down and making use of the flat of the cab – you could get quite a load of traps on the thing.

Our trap-lugging game stepped up with the truck that followed: a full-size F100 Ford. We’d wing the traps sideways off the sides of the bed, doing everything we could to start with the widest possible base for the pyramid-shaped pile. Combine that with plenty of pot warp to tie things down and you had an impressive pile of gear that you could transport without incident.

By the time we were headed offshore with bigger traps in 1977 – first, half-round 4-footers we built ourselves; then rectangular “Bear Traps” built by Anderson Trap Company down in Cumberland, ME – Stevie was well-settled into what became his shop until his passing in 2020: the former town liquor store on the west end of Main Street in Stonington. Therese and Mickey Webber – our aunt and uncle – owned the house and granite-faced wharf next door, which helped the situation greatly.

We could access the wharf in the 44’ Shirley & Freeman for a good couple of hours to either side of high tide. If the timing was right, we could load on (or unload) traps with no truck involved.

The arrival of the steel 54’ Stacie Vea in 1981 changed things; her 10’ draft was one of the features that made her such an able boat, but it prevented us from using the wharf next door to the shop. From then on, we had to either truck gear over to the outer wharf at Billings Diesel or, if there was space available, the southern end of the Stonington town dock.

We could lay at the town dock without grounding out back then, but we didn’t like maneuvering around at low tide, as it was close ... and if there did happen to be something significant on the bottom, the Stacie Vea’s massive propeller might suck it up.

Which leads me to the story behind the picture you see here, shared with me a few years ago by Tim Pemberton, who lives in East Blue Hill.

I’d come ashore and was working at Commercial Fisheries News (and doing some truck driving for the Stonington Lobster Co-op) when this photo was taken in the early 1990s. Tim was going mate on the Stacie Vea and his buddy Lew Black was on the crew – a good pairing of strong work ethic and easy-going temperament.

According to Tim, the Stacie was tied up at the town dock, about to leave on a trip. They were all fueled and baited up; grub was aboard; everybody’s seabags were down below – the tide was getting low and it was time to cast off and head out.

And then Stevie remembered: they needed a bunch of traps to replace one end of a 44-trap trawl that had been towed off by a fish dragger. It was only a short drive over to the shop, but ...

“There wasn't any time to fart around,” Tim told me. “The tide was going; we had to get out of there; and there wasn't a truck handy – not even to borrow.”

The only vehicle available was Tim’s 1981 Ford Fairmont.

“Lew,” Tim said to his buddy, “we gotta do what we gotta do.”

The duo hollered down to Stevie that they’d be right back with the traps and sped over to the shop in Tim’s Fairmont.

As mentioned previously, we’d started fishing 4’ wooden Anderson traps in the late 1970s. Bob Brown – a pioneer of offshore lobstering in New England, whose name you might recognize from The Perfect Storm – had a home on Deer Isle by then and became a good friend of ours. It was Bob who convinced my brother that the Anderson “Bear Traps” were what we wanted if we were serious about fishing offshore.

To get us a load to try, Bob actually gave Stevie his spot in the company’s production cycle, which was booked out months ahead. After seeing how the Andersons fished compared to the traps we’d built ourselves, we never looked back – we became Bear Trap believers.

The 4’ Andersons weighed a little over 100 lbs.; each end of a 44-trap trawl was anchored by a trap with an extra 100 lbs. of cement in the bottom. The point I want to make is, there was nothing dainty or delicate about handling them.

I think Tim and Lew stacked twelve of the things on that Ford Fairmont – which the average pickup truck would have a job handling, truth be known. Tim got the car turned around, then eased back along Main Street to the town dock – peering through the traps stacked on the hood, while Lew hung his head out the passenger side window like a Golden Retriever, making sure they were clear of parked cars and whatnot.

They made it to the dock without incident, loaded the traps onto the Stacie Vea, and cast off before the tide got too low.

You tell me what modern-day passenger vehicle could pull off such a feat – and that’s without making any structural modifications.

“That was one tough car,” Tim told me. “I got it by bartering with a woman … but that's another story."

—Robbins, who grew up in Stonington and now lives in Nobleboro, writes his monthly column “Wheel Watch” for The Rising Tide.