Pearl In The Shell

If you’re a fan of oysters, you should try the native Cornish variety. It’s thought that Ostrea edulis, better known as the Fal oyster, has been harvested since Roman times, and it has latterly been given Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status thanks to the strict management of the fishery and the distinctive sweet taste of the bivalves.

Chris Vinnicombe is a fifth-generation Fal oyster fisherman; his cousins Tim and Marshall have also followed in the family tradition. “I’d see my dad going out dredging, and would go out with him as a boy,” he recalls. “It’s logical to follow on and do it if there’s a living to be made.”

Oyster fishing is “a different ballgame” in so many ways. Chris lives five minutes from the harbour, and the oyster fishing grounds are contained within the Carrick Roads (the Fal estuary, and the world’s third largest natural harbour after Sydney, Australia and Poole in Dorset), stretching from Penarrow Point near Mylor across to St Just-in-Roseland, past Restronguet Creek and the King Harry Ferry and up the Truro River.

“I don’t have to go far – unlike deep sea fishermen, who can be away a fortnight, out of Newlyn and off up the Welsh coast,” says Chris. And while those fishermen are up at the crack of dawn, Chris’ day begins at a far more civilised time. The Fal oyster fishery is governed by strict byelaws, passed in 1876 to counter the combined effects of overfishing, disease and pollution which were causing numbers to dwindle.

The rules are enforced to this day by Cornwall Inshore Fisheries and Conservation Authorities (IFCA), and include a ban on motors and the mechanised harvesting of oysters. This is the last remaining commercial oyster fishery in Europe to operate solely under sail and oar, using locally built gaff-rigged cutters known as Falmouth Working Boats.

In addition, fishing is only permitted from October 1 to March 31, giving the oysters the summer months to reproduce, colonise and grow before the start of the next season; and between the hours of 9am and 3pm (1pm on Saturdays) – and never on a Sunday. “It dates back to more God-fearing times,” says Chris, “but after a full week of hand-pulled dredging, you need a day off. You have to pull them in by hand – no winches, just pure manpower.”

Chris sails the Rachel Anne, a Heard 28 gaff cutter built in Mylor Bridge around 30 years ago and used by several owners for working, racing and leisure. “She would dredge through the winter and race in the summer,” says Chris. “It’s a gentleman’s sport – I’ve always been too busy fishing myself!”

Chris sailed her home from the Channel Islands and had her refitted; she’s been used for her original purpose ever since. Previously known as Harriet Ann, she was renamed after Chris’ daughter: “I’m not superstitious like that.”

We meet at the harbour at 8.15am for a safety briefing and to get acquainted with the lifejackets before reaching Rachel Anne via a small motorised punt used purely for this purpose. Once on board, the sails go up and it’s down to the elements – Rachel Anne’s 5’ 6” draft enables her to carry an impressive 1,000 sq ft of top sail – to take Chris wherever he wants to start the day’s work.

“It’s so quiet compared with other forms of fishing, which can get very noisy with engines and winches,” he explains. “In nice weather, it’s a pleasure to go out – and even in not-so-good conditions, the harbour is relatively sheltered so you don’t miss many days.”

Over the summer, vessels are laid up on the beach in Mylor, ready for out-of-season work to be done: cleaning, painting, maintenance, repairs. Chris himself has other boats for use year-round, and is currently fitting out a new boat for beam trawling, targeting prime fish including Cornish sole (megrim), turbot and plaice.

He has returned to his purification tanks and is preparing them for the next season. “It will enable us to sell our own oysters direct, to customers like the Great Cornish Food store. I used to do this in Mylor, but it was time-consuming and I was fishing full-time on bigger boats, so turned to wholesaling. But I stored the tanks and thought it was time.”

Ask Chris what the future holds, and his response is mixed. “The fishery is looking pretty healthy,” he muses. “Having fished oysters for many years, the amount of young oysters I saw last year was the best I’ve seen in a long time.

“The biggest problem is marketing. Over the past few decades, there has been an increase in farmed and Pacific oysters, and these have taken market share.

“Then there was Brexit – fishermen were all for it, and had we got what was promoted, we would have come out of it quite well. But we were betrayed at the 11^th hour, and it has been a disaster. Our quota shares and zonal attachments never materialised, and the South West fishing industry hasn’t really benefited at all – it’s an opportunity missed.”

As a result, he doesn’t see the tradition being passed down to his own sons. “One gave it a go a few years ago but struggled to make enough money and had to leave the fishing industry for a job on shore,” he says. “The other runs the fish shop in Mylor and sells our catch, so at least he’s connected to it.

“A young fisherman with a family and a mortgage couldn’t make it pay; most of us doing it are in our 60s, and it has become a fishery for people who don’t have to rely on it. My wife once asked, when you hang up your dredgers, who’s coming afterwards? We’re not sure what’s going to happen, and that’s a shame.”

But then, he reflects, a glimmer of hope: “Maybe the grandkids – I’ve got five, all at junior school so some way off. But it would be nice to take them out for a trip – and who knows?”