Postcard from Pacific Beach

We’d had this clam digging trip on the books for weeks. This would be my first time. The WA Department of Fish and Wildlife finally sent out an email to those subscribed, announcing the next date when clamming would be allowed – a two-day window when the tides would be just right and the razor clams would be aplenty. Jeremy and I wasted no time putting in for a personal day off and booking a cottage.

But then, in true Seattle form, we were hit with the most random snow storm that would paralyze our city for days. The snow came on Tuesday and as I enjoyed day after day of cancelled school, I worried, wondering what would become of the trip that was supposed to begin in a couple of days.

With the cottage already booked and an unfavorable cancellation policy this close to the date, we decided to go. Jeremy’s four-wheel drive truck would allow him to scoop me up from my snowed-in hill and get us out of town through whatever icy roads we’d encounter. Besides, the snow was changing to rain and the coast hadn’t experienced the same intensity as we had. We were going. And turns out, the roads were fine. What I didn’t realize at the time though was how that “change to rain” would make for one of the most miserable clamming days ever.

The conditions were awful and I spent most of the time trying to keep my head in a positive place. That day of clamming was to me now as my last snowboarding adventure was to me ten years ago, when I realized I hated the sport and was always just counting the hours until I could go back to the lodge. As I walked along the beach, my new raincoat totally soaked from the pelting rain the wind was blowing into my face, I thought about this post. My hands froze around the handle of my empty bucket, the clams hardly showing at all, and I thought about what I recently said about embracing failure. While I searched for shows in the sand that ideally would not be drenched from runoff and rain, shows even expert clam diggers were struggling to find, I gave myself pep talks and tried to enjoy the ride. I pushed my clam gun into the sand, struggled to keep my freezing thumb over the hole to create a vacuum seal, and pulled up nothing but a dense plug of sand. Except once, when I heard the fateful crunch, which could only mean that I had “found” a clam, smashing it beyond repair. Clam digger fail.

I realized there is only so much failure one person can stand before the journey stops being fun anymore. If I were a kid, I would have whined, “I don’t want to play anymore.” After hours of stomping on the sand, a strategy clam diggers use to stir the clandestine clams below, I got my first clam – the smallest one of the day.

When it was finally time to call it a day, when the tide began to rise, I was more than ready to retreat to the truck. I’ve never trudged back to a vehicle with more intention and I’ve never been so happy to be inside. With a limit of fifteen clams allowed per person per day, I only came back with one and Jeremy with six. A day, which he describes as a test for even an experienced clam digger.

The second and final day of clam digging was a complete contrast to the day before – a day so beautiful it was almost as if the stars aligned just to show me what an amazing day of clam digging could be. Not a drop of rain fell on us the whole time, despite the intermittent showers that poured throughout the day. The sun broke through the clouds, stopping me in my tracks.

The reflection on the water and wet beaches left me breathless – bringing me as close to that beach vacation I’ve been pining for as I can get right now. The clams were showing and I was finally filling my bucket, first with small clams and then larger. My biggest triumph of the day was when I spotted the neck of a clam after pulling out a plug of sand. I plunged my hand into the sand and pulled it up as it tried to dig itself deeper into the sand to get away. My jacket was full of wet sand up to my elbow as I proudly set that clam into my bucket with a huge smile on my face. Finally.

By the end of the day, as the sun was setting and my arm was weighted down by the clams in my bucket, I looked at Jeremy and said, “I am so happy.” To which he replied, “Would you say you were as happy as a…?” “Clam?” I replied. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

For more about how to dig for razor clams, check out this link and this silly video I took of Jeremy showing me the ropes.