We all think of lobsters as scavengers, a lower form of life which scurries across the ocean bottom in the dark, looking for tasty morsels. But these guys are smart.

Inner harbor of Camden, Maine.

Consider. We’ve been up to Maine, the land of 2 million lobster pots, and back. While we did some zigging and zagging, nary a lobster pot float line snagged our keel, prop or rudder.

We were feeling so smug about our technique for avoiding the pots that we were even thinking about writing some comments about it.

So Sunday afternoon, on a typical windless New England day (but hey, it was sunny!) we were powering along toward Newport. We’re out of the serious lobstering grounds and were only casually keeping watch – in fact we were both reading the New York Times Sunday edition – when all of a sudden there was this terrible racket emanating from the engine room.

The engine was immediately put into neutral and we began to investigate.

Everything looked fine on the engine and drive line so we decided to check the stern. Sure enough, trailing behind us was a long line – obviously nicely wound around the prop.

There’s a chunk of detached reef to the north of the entrance to Naragansett Bay which catches lots of boats every year, and it was about 50 yards off our beam. Rather than go swimming so close to the reef, with a flooding tide, we put the mizzen up to hold us into the wind, then raised the main. However, Beowulf was acting very strange. She fell off the wind and would not come up, regardless of what we tried to do.

The wind was light, but not that light!

After checking the steering system we took a look over the stern and found we were still connected to the fish or lobster traps, and the drag was such that Beowulf could not get up enough speed to make the rudder work.

Linda lifted the line to the fish trap with a boat hook while Steve cut it free.

Without any further excitement we sailed our way to the anchorage in Newport, got the hook down, and then cut the mess away from the prop.

Now tell us those lobsters aren’t smart! While we were alert to their traps, they didn’t bother with us. But the minute we let down our guard, they had us!

So, here are a couple of things we learned about fish and lobster buoys:

1. You need good sight lines – i.e., the ability to see close to the bow from the steering station. This requires height. Standing on deck usually works best.
2. There are times when you simply cannot avoid a float. In this case the only thing to do is get the engine into neutral, before the float and line get back to the prop. If you are standing on deck keeping watch, and the shift lever is down at your feet, try to rig some form of remote control to get the engine into neutral (sometimes a simple piece of line with a handle will do the trick).
3. Try to pass downwind and/or down-tide of the markers. This way you know the line to the trap is angled away from your fins.
4. Know where the pivot point of the hull is located. If a float is running down the hull side, you will want to turn towards it once it reaches the pivot point, which will swing the stern away.
5. There are some areas where the fishermen use a second, smaller float, attached to the main float. While you can normally pass between floats, you cannot if they are connected.

And if you do catch a line? Anything caught on the fins will be easy to dislodge. But if you’ve got something on the prop it may take some time with a serrated knife to cut it free. Keep a wet suit, fins, mask and snorkel handy.