Stories: Not Too Far From The Ocean
The End of Polio? • I Was a Long-boarder • The Draft: What's Your Problem? • Timothy Leary? • To Ski or Not to Ski • Butch and Sundance • Dogs, Dogs, Dogs! • Arrivals • It's Just a Car • Fish On! • Music Musings • Walter Mitty Redux • Clamming and Crabbing • Grandpop: Can We Talk?
Clamming and Crabbing
My time teaching at California State University, Northridge was certainly filled with wonderful experiences, including forging friendships with colleagues as a part-time instructor for 14 years. I shared an office with my college buddy, Mark Jurey, a full-time Art Department professor at the time.
A colleague and friend, Dr. Lenore Sorenson, had an office just down the hall from Mark and me. I recall we would have engaging conversations about art and life during lunch and in between our classes—those were truly good times.
Lenore had a rental house at Dillion Beach in Northern California, slightly south of Bodega Bay. My fiancé Nancy and I were planning a trip north to visit our friends, Max and Janice, who lived in Kenwood, just a few miles east of Santa Rosa. Lenore kindly offered her rental house at Dillon Beach to us in the event we wanted to go to the coast for a couple of days—Nancy and I jumped at the chance to spend time on the coast.
We enjoyed several days with Max, Janice, and their daughter Portia at their home in Kenwood, savoring good company, Northern California cuisine, and, of course, wine tasting. We invited them to join us at Dillon Beach, and they happily agreed.
Lenore's rental house at Dillon Beach, likely built in the 1920s, was somewhat dilapidated but quaint, situated just a couple of blocks from the ocean. I noticed that the front screen door was hanging off its hinges, so I decided to fix it—the least I could do for us staying there, gratis. I went to the hardware store in Sebastopol, bought some new hinges and screen material, and repaired the door. It felt good to contribute in this way.
Clamming:
Max, Janice, and Portia arrived at Dillon Beach and we planned to clam for geoducks at low tide the following morning, as we had been advised that it was a must-do at Dillon Beach. But what exactly is a geoduck? I was about to find out.
The following day, we rented a boat and set out for the clamming beds armed with a shovel and a bag—what else do you need for clamming? Upon reaching the beds, we began digging in the black sand where we saw bubbles boiling up—a sign of a clam below. Unfortunately, we had no luck because we soon discovered that geoducks bury themselves deep in the sand when threatened—as if we were threatening; we simply just wanted to eat them!
Below is a quote from Max on our experience that day:
"I remember our time crabbing and clamming the same as you. I also recall you wore white pants when we went clamming and they got quite dirty. You were so determined, that you laid out on the wet sand to dig by hand, but without success. The sand was too saturated with sea water and it just caved in and formed a puddle."
"Thankfully, a father and son took pity on our feeble efforts digging with a shovel, and loaned us their homemade PVC suction tool. It made a huge difference, and we got at least 6 of the huge clams before the tide rose, and the sandbar shrank to just a few feet across. Janice was with us briefly, but took an earlier shuttle boat back to shore. We did get a bit nervous about having to swim to shore if the boat failed to come back."
"I think it was that night that the neighbors invited us to sneak over the barrier at the dock to set their crab pot. If I'm not mistaken, you ripped your pants on the barbwire climbing around the security fence. We returned to the cottages and ate crab and drank beer well into the wee hours."
Here's to our great times together!"
Max
Yes, I wore white pants that day, and yes, they got muddy, but they were comfortable. Max cleaned the geoducks that evening, and if I'm not mistaken, we had them as fritters with scrambled eggs the next morning. As I recall, they were quite delicious.
Crabbing:
As Max suggests, it was that night or the following day we met some friendly neighbors next door who told us about crabbing off the Dillon Beach/Lawson's Landing Pier. I was intrigued, having never been crabbing before. The only catch, no pun intended, was that we had to go after dark, as the pier was closed—there was even a locked gate and a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.
Undeterred, we gathered the small fish net crab traps our neighbors lent us and some frozen monkfish, which crabs love. We arrived at the Dillon Beach Pier and climbed the security fence—carefully avoiding the barbed wire. We loaded the crab traps with the monkfish bait, threw them over the pier fence, and waited. After about 20 minutes, we decided to pull up the traps—and viola! We had a feast in the offing.
Here is a quote from Janice on our experience that day:
"What I recall is seeing you and Max climb over the fence at the end of the pier…Nancy, Portia and I then wandered through the trailer park as we waited for you guys to come back with some crab. Somehow we all ended next door having a crab feed and drinking lots of beer/wine? into the night."
Oh, to be so spontaneous!"
Janice
Yes, I ripped my jeans while climbing over the barbed wire that night, but we returned with a bounty of crabs. It was all worth it, as we feasted well into the night with old friends.
