Silent Noise

I beleive The sea allows for a peaceful quiet by creating an immortal lull.  

After we arrived last night, we quickly unpacked so we could attempt a long awaited visit to the ocean.  It was just before dark and the marine layer was heavy.  As we came through the dunes, an erie mist prevented a clear view of the water, but the constant crash of the waves told us we had arrived. My heart was happy, my soul was calm.

As I stand here, the tide slowly buries my feet.  The only sound that is playing, is my favorite one of all.  With the hectic pace of life left behind, I literally feel the last remnants of stress being washed away out to sea.  

I love that this summer I have been blessed to bring all my babies to the ocean.  Hear their laughter and witness their smiles.  Life is better by the ocean and I'm grateful for the gift it has given to me. 

The Naked Clam

Max headed to check out the ocean with his big brother Brayden.

A Clam culture does exist!  I was finally educated on this beloved tradition while visiting Ocean Shores this weekend with my family.  We headed up on Saturday to stay for the night at The Quinault and upon arrival noticed the clamming Woodstock that was taking place on the beach.  There were people everywhere and while they were not naked, after all the shucking that was said and done, the clams were.  I was intrigued.

After we checked in and got all our warm gear on, we headed out to the hysteria that was taking place on the beach.  The clamming craziness was in full swing.  Clammers, all decked out in huge boots, or even waders and rain gear were going at the beach with their clam guns and shovels as if they were digging for gold.  Our curiosity got the best of us and we quickly set out to find answers, first and foremost, what were these clam characters they were going after?  I looked down after the tide had drawn out and there was this strange thing wriggling in the sand.  Quickly I grabbed the strange creature and pulled it out of the soft beach, a clam!  (I later found out that just grabbing them like that was rare, normally you had to get down and dirty and dig for them.) A little while later I attempted to grab another one and tore off it's head, basically I murdered it.  Feeling terrible and not wanting to waste his life, the kids and I looked for some hungry Seagulls to share my find with.  They were more than willing to feast on my victim.

Clamming is not for the faint of heart.  It is a cold, wet and very dirty, sandy venture and all for just fifteen clams.  The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife States:

“The first fifteen razor clams regardless of size or condition must be retained. One daily limit of fresh shellfish may be in possession. Additional shellfish may be possessed in a frozen or processed form. Razor clams may not be returned to the beach. For razor clams, holes do not have to be refilled as is required for hard-shell clam digging.”

This is serious business and I began to notice this was a family affair, even toddlers were booted up and part of the mayhem.  I asked a friendly fellow to explain some of the rules and he informed me that adults have to have a license, but children, as long as they were with a licensed adult, could also procure fifteen clams.   One father noted that this was true, however he made sure his children took part in the process and helped dig and retrieve the clams.  However, what he didn't tell me, and what I soon realized, was how hard the digging actually was.  

Saxton trying her hand
at clamming.

A clam in the sand next to clam gun.

As we headed down the beach we came across a nice woman and her nieces and nephews.  They were really struggling to find and acquire any clams.  They were really working hard and not having much return.  After attempting to help them for a little while, we all caught a break when a good Samaritan stopped and gave us a clam-digging-101 lesson on using a clam gun.  First, you need to locate the bubbling hole which is hopefully holding a clam, then face the incoming tide and prepare to stab the shore with your gun. (Facing the tide is done for many reasons, but the most important reason is so you can see the approaching rush of the sea and not get caught off guard.  This happened to us and we all got soaked. Even me in my boots.)  Next he showed us how you place the gun at an angle and proceed to swivel it back and forth as you quickly (key word) maneuver the gun into the sand. Then you plug the small hole on the underside of the handle and pull the gun (now suctioned) out of the sand.  (Truthfully, this is back breaking, muscle wrenching work.)  After you pull the gun out, you have to move with super sonic speed in order to sift through the sand for the clam and if it's not there, plunge into the icy cold hole with your hand and fish for your prize.  After I got the hang of it, all of the kids wanted to try and we actually found several for our new found friends.  At one point I looked around at all the smiling faces and was happy that each and everyone of us was enjoying themselves.   

Our new found friends.  

Not long before we found our new hobby our son Brayden wasn't quite enjoying our venture out onto the beach.  However, I noticed that after a little while his face turned from sulking to smiling.  He soon became an expert clam grabber and attacked the wet holes with a passion and helped to take more than one into custody.  Clamming was no longer an unknown culture, but now a beloved experience.  As I talked with our sitter Kate who we brought with us, she recalled her own special childhood memories with her family.  We laughed when she came to the revelation that her parents most likely brought her along in order to claim her fifteen clams.  Growing up in Indiana, the only thing I shucked was corn, and I was as grateful for this new experience as my children were.

As we watched the sun set on our day and I watched my girls enjoy the ocean and the Sunset, I was very grateful for the gifts that the sea bestows on us.  Some our tangible, and some are carried with us in our hearts.  My family and I didn't know the lessons we would learn when we headed to the shore Saturday, and I am glad.  Sometimes the best things are life's little naked surprises.