The clam-ventures of a rookie digger

Molly High has lived on the North Coast for three years. Last weekend, she decided to become a true local, and writes about her cold, wet weeekend:

3/27/09 4:00 A.M.

Today is my first day ever digging razor clams.  My alarm isn’t supposed to go off until 6:00, but I’m so blasted excited I can’t sleep!  I barely slept a wink but I don’t feel a bit tired, this is going to be the best day ever!   Low tide is at 8:06.  We’re leaving early so we can be the first people on the beach when it gets light.  My dear friend is taking three of us out to teach us the ropes.  I can’t wait, this is going to be so much fun!  I dress warmly in sweats with a winter jacket, hiking boots and a baseball cap to keep my head dry, because there is slight mist blowing around.  But it doesn’t seem too serious.  We’re taking my five year-old son with us, he should have a blast!  If we dig fast, we can have him back in time to go to school.  He will have so much fun!  

6:00 A.M. 

I wake up the kiddo.  He is super-excited and hops out of bed like he just found out he’s going to Disneyland.  

6:38 A.M.

My truck is loaded and we hit the road.  We have to head north because our beach isn’t open today.  But it’s not even light out, so we’ll be one of the first arrivals on the beach.  

6:44 A.M. 

We are about the 500th car in a line of rigs headed to Roosevelt Beach, I’m beginning to think we’re not the only early birds wanting to get the clams.  Traffic comes to a complete stop.  But low tide is still over an hour away so we will be one of the first to arrive, it’s just now getting light.  

6:59 A.M.  I pull on the beach and realize about 10,000 other cars have beat us there.  I find a place to park close to an area where it looks like we might be able to squeeze between a few fellow clammers.  My heart is racing and I’m dizzy with excitement.   The mist is getting a little serious so I add more garments to stay warm.  We gather our gear and prepare to trek towards the water.  I suddenly realize rain is running down my face.  I’m rapidly soaked but this is what clamming is all about, right?  I’m excited to sink my shovel.  After a briefing of the basics, we start looking for evidence of clams, digging as fast as we can.  The holes quickly fill with water and I didn’t realize you had to sink your arm all the way down to feel around for the little buggers.  Boy, they are fast diggers, it’s kinda cute how they work so hard to get away from us.  I’m wet and sandy up to my armpit and haven’t managed to outsmart a single little critter yet, but boy this is fun!  My friends have a few clams and my little guy thinks this is the coolest thing ever!  He’s having such a good time, I’m glad we brought him.  I thought it would be too much for such a little guy.  Sometimes it’s nice to be wrong!  

7:11 A.M.  

I imagine I will maintain feeling in my fingers for at least another two minutes.  I am now drenched from head to toe and know that if I plan on getting any of these little clammies,  I may as well stop pussy-footing around and go for the gusto.  Apparently they are faster than I, but I will not be outsmarted by a clam.  Silly buggers!  

7:19 A.M.  

I have two clams.  My precious little boy is complaining that he is cold and wet.  Poor guy, he’s not digging so he’s not able to stay warm. He might have more fun if he could stick his arm in the hole, but his little arms just aren’t long enough. 

7:20 A.M.  My little guy wants to go home and says his pinky fingers hurt.  

7:22 A.M.  He is crying and saying that he hates clams.  He seems a little angry with me.  

7:24 A.M.  Jr. and I walk back to the truck, the rain is driving directly into our faces.  If there was a space on me that was not previously soaked, this walk has taken care of it.  Back at the truck, I turn the heater on high.  Tears, rain, sand and snot have now made an interesting mixture on my child’s face, which I swab with a wad of sandy tissues.  Thankfully I have brought extra clothes so I am hopeful that he will stop crying if I can get him into some dry clothing.  I am disappointed that this was such a horrible experience for him, I had hoped we were starting a new family tradition.  I strip him down to his skivvies in front of the heater and get him in some dry clothes.  

7:49 A.M.  My friends have their limit and we can finally head home.  My kid says he still hates clams.  He gets the feeling back in his fingers and announces that clamming was kinda fun, but next time he will either wait in the truck or perhaps stay home.  Unless the sun is out, then he will want to come with us.  

8:50 A.M. I drop him off at school and he is now excited to tell his friends how cool it was to go dig clams and he thinks he is the only kid in his class that dug clams before school.  What a trooper!  My truck smells like dead clams, there is sand everywhere, and the seats are wet.  

9:05 A.M.  I shed soggy, sandy wet clothing just inside the front door and scurry to the shower.  It hurts as the feeling comes back into certain areas of my limbs.  I feel like a loser because I could barely dig a clam.  But we now own 60 of the sandy little creatures and they need to be cleaned.  We put them in a bucket of water to soak out the sand, but everyone has things to do this morning so we plan to clean them this afternoon.  This will be fun.  I keep watch over our catch, poking at them in the bucket and teasing them for trying to get away.  

10:02 A.M.  My body still feels chilled to the bone so I sit on the couch with a book, with my feet towards the fireplace, trying to regain some sense of warmth.  This was so much fun, I can’t wait to do it tomorrow.  I’m pretty proud of myself, that was hard work!  

3:19 P.M.  I’m still on the couch, I haven’t moved in over five hours.  I think I am starting to feel my feet.  Child Protective Services stopped by for a little visit.  We had a nice chat.    

3:43 P.M.  My friends are back!!!  Time to clean these cute little shelled creatures!  This will be a blast, I’m finally warm so nothing can stop me now!  

3:46 P.M.  This is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my entire life!  I’m pretty certain the brown stuff is clam poop.  I can’t do this, but I don’t want to seem like a pansy after this morning.  I think I need a little liquid courage if I’m going to touch this stuff.  People actually eat these things?!?  Apparently those people don’t know what clams are full of!  

3:59 P.M.  I’m on my third beer.  These little clam do-hickeys have a cute chicken shaped thingy called a “digger” that’s rubbery and kind of fun to play with.  There is more sand in my sink than on the floor of my truck.  I don’t think we will ever get this disgusting little things clean.  But that’s ok because I’ve decided I’m not eating these.  My parents like them and since they are visiting next week I thought it would be nice to surprise them.  I hope they don’t eat them in front of me.  I feel like I have a dirty little secret but I don’t want to tell them what I found inside the clams.  

6:58 P.M.  The clams are clean.  I think.  I stuck them in the freezer anyway.  It’s my birthday today so I’m not going to cook. I’m tired and cold because I just spent the last three hours with my hands in icy, clam-poopy water.  

7:15 I greet my company and start grilling the hamburgers.  

11:59PM - It’s time for bed, we have to get up early to go out and get more clams tomorrow.  After all, we only get to dig three days this month.  Better get a good night’s sleep.  I’m excited, tomorrow will be so much fun!

 
3/28/09 6:45A.M.

My alarm went off.  I was dead asleep.  I trudge out of bed, and then get excited as I remember that we’re going clamming again this morning.  Yeah!  I throw on my sweats but go with less layers today because wet is wet, but when it’s layers of wet sweatshirt, it’s also heavy.  And I know I’m going to get wet.  I hear the rain pounding the side of the house as I stumble to the coffee pot.  I pour myself a cup of brew, and stumble to the couch.  I’m so excited I can barely contain myself.  I ease back on the cushions and fall back asleep.  

7:15AM 

My friends are here.  I was afraid they would forget our date, but we’re going clamming!  It’s raining really, really hard.  My gloves are still wet from yesterday.  My truck still stinks.  Three cups of coffee and my eyelids are still half closed.  I have a strange pain in my left pec.  But today we’ve picked up two more people so we need to get 90 clams instead of yesterday’s 60.  Today we can dig on our beach so no long drive for us, that’s exciting!  

7:36 A.M. There is actually space to park on the beach and we have a couple of slots to wiggle in between other clammers, this is nothing compared to yesterday, not near as many people.  We’ll be out of here in 15 minutes!  The little buttheads are faster than they were yesterday.  I’m 0 for nothing and I’ve been out more than 15 minutes.  A wave took me out at the knees and my sweatpants feel like they are going to be drug down by the next wave.  I forgot my wet gloves.  I finally get a clam and he’s the smallest thing I have ever seen.  I’m such a loser.  My pony tail is making an effective wick for the rain, right down the back of my shirt.  I see a clam squirt and start to furiously dig.  He squirts me in the face as I hover 4 inches above the hole, buried up to my armpit in watery sand.  I can hear him laughing.  He’s halfway to China before I give up.  I’m a little irritated.  It’s raining so hard it’s stinging my ears.  The clams are just under the sand, giggling hysterically at all of us out here trying to find them in this weather.  I look to my left and see that I’m being out-clammed by an 8 year old.  This is a family sport and apparently I ain’t got what it takes.  Bummer. I was having such fun, but if you truly stink at something, you should give up the sport and let those who excel take the lead.  

8:52 A.M.  We have 90 damn clams and I’m just happy that my keys were not lost in the surf.  The only thing I can feel on my entire body is the need to pee.  I want a cup of coffee, preferably hot.  I have decided I don’t like clams.  They are evil little creatures. 

8:56 A.M. Finally at home!  I strip in the garage because I have 22 pounds of sand in my clothing.  I didn’t think my feet could get any colder until I step on the concrete in wet socks.  A hot shower brings tears to my eyes as hot spikes go through my hands and feet.  I’m still cold.  But no time for dilly-dallying.  I have to go clean 90 flipping clams, which means 90 clams’ worth of poop.  

10:22 A.M. 

I’ve cleaned 41 clams and I’m questioning my love for my parents because I’m doing this for them.  

10:33 A.M. 

I’ve cleaned 56 clams and I think my parents owe me a trip to the spa.  

11: 29 A.M. I’m cleaning the final clam and I’m contemplating looking for vegetarian parents to adopt me because I don’t mind cleaning carrots.  And carrots don’t (usually) get away from me.  

11:48 A.M. Done with the cleaning, I am headed home.  I stop at ACE to buy a clam gun because there surely must be an easier way to get this done.  There is a chill in my bones I can’t shake, so I again take my perch on the couch with my feet towards the fireplace.  I grab a book and snuggle down with my cat.  

3:21 P.M. I just woke up in a fog wondering why I was dreaming of digging clams.  I ache in muscles I wasn’t aware I owned.  I left the fireplace on and it is 92 degrees in my house.  As consciousness overcomes me I realize that all I have done for two days is get up at the crack of dawn, to go out in the pouring rain, to stick my arm in a wet sandy hole, to take out a sharp little critter whose main function in life is to get away from me, cleaning poody out of their cruddy little bodies, and then spending the better part of four hours trying to get warm enough to function, and I am dead tired.  And I don’t even eat this sea-slime.  The only reason I’m even doing this is because my parents like them, but I’m beginning to question how much I actually like my parents.  They will be here in a few days and the house is a mess.  All I have done for two days is track in sand and the place smells like dead clams.  I really need to clean before they get here.  But I’m so dead tired, I think I’ll attach a ransom note to the broom and they can work to get their clammies freed from this hostage taker.  

11:03 P.M. It’s late and I need to get to bed.  My family will have to pay for this.  But right now I need to get to bed because we’re picking up three more people in the morning and we need to dig 150 clams.  If I hang with it for at least an hour I’m sure I can get three of the little jerks in my net.  Since I’ve been so helpful cleaning, my friends said they would give me some of theirs.  I’m putting the guts in a jar for my mom so she can appreciate what I have been through.  The good news is that tomorrow morning it shouldn’t be raining.  Instead, it will be 35 degrees and windy.  I can’t wait.  This will be SOOOO much fun.  

3/29/09 7:00A.M. 

My alarm just went off and I threw it against the wall.  It’s broken.  That’s a shame.  I will have to put that on my Christmas list.  

8:02 A.M.

My friends are knocking on the door, they think I’m going clamming this morning.  I’m hiding in my closest.  

8:09 A.M.   They left.  I’m sitting in front of the fire in dry clothes, warm and cozy while I prepare an invoice to give to my parents for their crummy clams.  It includes a massage and reimbursement for my license, plus the clam gun I never used.  I hate clams.