Today was the first day that it actually looked like summer out there. I had to work the box-office at 1100 and on the way in to town, I have to drive right along the Cove, and noticed that the tide was WAAAAAAAY out. It left a long walk to the water line. People were lining up already for the clam beds that would soon be uncovered. The Ferry was cancelled for the two runs from Keystone and the 3 runs from Port Townsend. Yep it is summer!
I remember when I was 10 and we had just moved to the island, from Honolulu. We were living in a tiny house that was renting only the bottom half. The rest of the house was off-limits. (at least it was to us!) We were only a short distance away from the Seaplane Base, and the Seaplane Base has some of the BEST clam beds in the whole Puget Sound.
To get to these beds, we had to drive to the top of the hill on Maylor's point, Holding our breath as we drove through Officer's country. (didn't want to get contaminated!) And Dad would always hold his nose in a pinched position as he drove through with one hand on the wheel and one on his nose. (Hey we were TEN and SEVEN, it was FUN!) Then we would drive down this little dirt road into the woods, and then park right along a steep bluff with a well worn path heading down into the beach. We girls would have to carry the burlap bags, and Dad would carry the shovel and the bucket. Back in those days we did not have to have a salt water license, but there was a personal limit. Dad would walk us way out on the sand spit that rose from the water, and when we were out as far as we could go, we would start digging. Dad would dump a shovel full of gravel, sand and clams out onto the top, and we would have to sift through the debris looking for the clams. Mom and Dad liked the tiny steamer clams, and there were plenty of those. These would go into the bucket, and the bigger ones would go into the burlap bag. When we thought we had our limit, (and WAAAY MORE!) we would head on back to the house, dump those off and head back for more. We would do this until the tide started coming back in.
the fog horn on the tower of the Seaplane hanger would honk, and that was the signal that the tide was turning, and would be coming back in FAASSSTTTT and to head for shore. If we didn't leave when signaled, there was a chance that we would be cut off, and possibly drown. We never lingered. We would get back home, and Dad would dump all of the clams into a tub of water, and then dump a box of cornmeal into the water. The clams would siphon the water through their system, get the cornmeal into their shell, and then spit until it left their system. In doing this, it also cleaned them of all the sand that they had in their shell. We would leave them like this for a day, and then we would steam them open, eat the little ones with garlic butter, and either fry the bigger ones, or grind them up to make clam fritters out of.
These days were always hot, and cool at the same time. A hot sun and a cool breeze. We always had a gallon of kool-aid in the icebox, the old fashioned kind of kool aid, that you had to mix sugar with. ( if you took a pkg of the granules and mix the same amount of sugar in the pouch, you could eat it dry, and it would taste like those sweet tart straws.) My favorite was root beer, and then there lemonade flavored. I hated the red kind. YUCK.
As I came down the hill today into Oak Harbor, I saw how low the tide was and thought, yep, must be a minus tide. It must be June. I wanted to keep on driving, but I made the turn into the playhouse to work from 11 until 3. By the time I got off work, the tide had turned, was on its way back in, and the magic was over.
I remember my parents so clearly on days like this, Mom staying home with morning sickness, or else staying home and making dinner so we could come in and get our baths. Dad driving the 49 Nash through Officer's Housing with his nose pinched up.
LOLOL funny the things you remember isn't it.
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