This weekend Brian and I decided that we wanted to go clamming (yes, they have a specific verb that means "to dig for clams") down at Clam Gulch. Clams are delicious and the limit is 60 clams, per person, per day, so one trip can bring in a lot of clam chowder for the fall. It's actually pretty impressive that you can take 60 clams with you each day because, even though you can only clam when the low tide is really low, with a name like "Clam Gulch" it's the most populated clamming spot in this part of Alaska. When we went there were probably 40 or 50 other people clamming as well, so you'd think that if each person were allowed 60, the whole beach would be pretty much depleted in a few days. But they replenish their numbers very quickly (that's why they say "Happy as a clam?"). Digging for razor clams (which are different than most of the clams on the east coast) is fairly simple. You find a hole, which looks like an indentation the size of a shallow spoonful. You prepare-- you know, take a few deep breaths and get yourself mentally ready to go. Then you dig. Fast. Because as soon as you start digging, they start propelling themselves downward. You can use a shovel or a clam gun to do the initial first few deep digs. But then you see a speck of white and you dive on the ground and start digging with your hands. When you touch it, you have to get it very softly, or you'll crack the shell. We cracked a lot of shells. But that's okay for eating purposes, it just makes them harder to clean. You have to wear big rubber gloves though, so the shells don't cut you.
Although it is fairly simple, it is very difficult. It took us a while to get the hang of it. But then it's like a revelation and you can do it and you get so excited and get tons of clams and then realize you're completely exhausted and you can hardly move your arms any more. And then the tide starts coming in. But you only have 52 clams each. So you keep going. As fast as you can even though you're exhausted until you are so tired that you can hardly move at all. And then you realize just how fast the tide is coming in, so you start to hurry up the beach. But you're completely exhausted and can barely pick up your legs. And then you start to walk on a part of the beach that's not sand at all, but really very fine glacial silt. And it's getting deeper and harder to move in. And you're sinking really quickly. And then, before you realize what's happening you are in past your knees and getting deeper. You ditch your clamming tools and try to get out but you can't. You're in quicksand. Scooby-Doo style. Only, there's no jungle vine for your friends to throw to you so that they can team up to heave-ho you out. So you yell to your boyfriend that you're sinking and that you can't move at all and you're almost crying. And he has to run back and pull you out. And then go run back for the shovel and the clam gun. Because he is kind of Superman. And then you both lay on the rocks where the tide hasn't reached yet and try and fathom the strength to move. Or at least that's what happened to us.
The next day we signed up to go white water rafting on Six Mile Creek. I was so excited-- I had been waiting all summer to do this. Broke, one of our managers, dates the guy who manages the company, so our employees all get to take free trips. It was great. They gear you up in dry suits (that look like techno-colored space suits) and plop you on giant teal rafts. Everybody learns to paddle together and then you're flying through class five rapids. The rapids all have intimidating names, like "Jaws" and "Suckhole." Even words that were probably neutrally or positively valenced, like "Staircase" and "Merry-Go-Round" suddenly seem terrifying when they are referring to the name of a crazy rapid. But it was great.
Post-weekend, things were pretty slow around the cache. But I thought I'd amputate my finger on the meat-slicer so spice things up a little. Dear family, please don't worry. I really do still have all ten of my fingers. I hardly even lost that much in terms of total volume. A fair bit of surface area, though. But it's been fine. A new challenge, really, to learn to make sandwiches and type and things when you can't feel with one of your fingers because of all the bandaging. Try it. You'd be surprised.
Tonight is the Logging Road party. The theme is "duct tape spirit animal." According to the online quiz I took, my spirit animal is a spider ("Artsy and intuitive. Sometimes you get so wrapped up in your endeavors that you forget about the outside world and everyone in it."). So I need to use the rest of my break to go finish my costume. I will make sure to take pictures!
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