Ryan Bethea: A New Kind of Fisherman

Reprinted rom Tradewinds Magazine, 2018, B. Garrity-Blake; photograph by B. Garrity-Blake

Ryan Bethea is not your typical fisherman working the waters off Harkers Island. For one thing, as his surname might indicate, he’s not a local Down Easter. 

“I’m from the Bull City,” he said, referring of course to Durham. 

His boat of choice is not a wooden workboat or a Carolina skiff, but rather, an environmentally-friendly kayak. “I have a skiff if I need it, but whenever possible I prefer the kayak.”

Most remarkably, the 33-year old gave up a full-time job teaching middle school in order to make a living off the water. He was, however, no stranger to water. 

“I was a water baby, and later on the swim team, and was a certified life guard. I love to water ski and fish,” he reflected. “I’ve always been around the water.” 

So how did he make the leap from an inland classroom to the waters of Westmouth Bay? 

“While teaching I decided to get another degree and study oyster aquaculture,” he explained. “I did graduate research at VIMS (Virginia Institute of Marine Science) in oyster genetics. That’s when I met Dr. James Morris.” 

James Morris is a marine ecologist based at the NOAA lab on Pivers Island. He’s also the son of Jimmy Morris who runs a shellfish hatchery in Sea Level. James operates Morris Family Shellfish, and sells his farmed-grown clams and oysters locally as well as to inland restaurants. 

“I got Dr. Morris’ old lease off Harkers Island in 2015 and was grandfathered in,” Ryan said.  He attributes much of his success to being fortunate in having a mentor. He was also able to get a small Self Help start-up loan to help purchase needed supplies and equipment. 

Both sets of Ryan’s grandparents grew up on farms, and his career switch to oyster aquaculture was a way to honor his past but in a modern way. His business is called Oysters Carolina. 

“My grandmom on my mother’s side was born in Mt. Airy and my grandfather was a Moravian pastor. He took a church outside of Edmonton where farming is big. My grandparents on my Dad’s side were black, and farmed in the rural community of Hamlet, North Carolina. So oyster farming is a way to pay homage to them.” 

The former social studies teacher demonstrated a deep appreciation for the history and culture of North Carolina. 

“I love North Carolina and the people. Early history we didn’t have a lot of development, and Virginia and South Carolina looked down on us. We’re still not built up on the coast. But we have all this clean and pristine water. Oyster farming is a perfect way to meld all that together and promote our state – I have a lot of pride in North Carolina.”

The waters may be pristine, but other factors – such as fluctuations in salinity and oxygen levels -  can lead to an oyster die-off. Oyster farming is not risk-free.  

“I was so happy to get the lease, I didn’t care about the possibility of mortality,” Ryan explained. “One year we probably lost 90 percent. But last year we had triple stacked cages and most on the top survived while the ones on the bottom didn’t fare so well. I think it’s stocking density in the oysters and the DO (dissolved oxygen) was low – the water was so hot!” 

This year’s crop, some 350,000 oysters grown on a five-acre lease, was looking good. Oysters get their nutrients from the water, so no feed or additives are necessary. 

Oysters grown in floating bags or cages are triploids. This doesn’t mean they’re genetically modified – it simply means they have an extra set of chromosomes and cannot reproduce. So in warm-weather months, while the meat of wild oysters is “poor” because they’re concentrating on spawning, triploids are fat and marketable. Because they’re grown as singles, rather than clusters, they are perfect for the lucrative “half shell” market.  

“We grow our oysters in cages made of dipped wire mesh,” Ryan explained. Some growers float their oysters in thick mesh bags made of plastic, but Ryan worries about the impact of plastic on the marine environment. 

“Why put all that plastic in the water? I try to avoid it. In fact I harvest using a pillow case.”

Ryan has a shellfish dealer’s license, and delivers his product to individual customers in Wilson, Charlotte, and the Triangle, and to a high-end restaurant in Cary. 

“I don’t do any business east of Wilson. I don’t want to take business from anybody. I’d hate for someone to buy my oyster from around here instead of one of the local guys.”

Do the local fishermen give him a hard time for being an “outsider” in their midst? 

“No,” he shrugged. “Everyone has been welcoming, really nice. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Ryan has been a member of the North Carolina Shellfish Grower’s Association for five years. He stressed the importance of belonging to an organization so that members can support one another and discuss issues important to their trade. 

Recently the Shellfish Growers met to discuss a controversial legislative bill that would have greatly expanded the amount of public trust acreage any one entity could lease, and would have allowed non-residents to enter the fishery. Many feared this would pave the way for a corporate takeover of the aquaculture industry. 

“In my mind, our state needs to proceed slowly, and grow this business from the grassroots up, involving people. This industry is in its infancy. You don’t get a lot of shots to create industry, but that’s what we’re doing and we need to do it right. Why are we racing to the finish line?”

Ryan Bethea must be doing something right, because Oysters Carolina won first place in the North Carolina Seafood Festival’s inaugural People’s Choice Oyster of the Year award. He travels to a variety of events around the state and offers samples of his salty bivalves. He and other growers are discussing ways to brand their oysters, as flavors differ from water body to water body. Oyster growers see the region as a future “Napa Valley of Oysters.”

“I’m not a foodie, “reflected the young entrepreneur. “But I pay attention to food and like to eat. And I love eating oysters!” 

So if you see a curly-headed man paddling a red kayak along the shores of Harkers Island, and he’s hauling a pillow case full of oysters, know that it’s Ryan Bethea of Oysters Carolina, forging new ground in oyster farming while respecting area traditions.