IN A PLACE THAT’S RICH WITH NATURAL BEAUTY, THE VERDANT Olympic Mountains tumble into the
        waters of the Hood Canal. Their juncture forms a narrow corridor where old U.S. Highway 101
        winds through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. It’s a land of sensory
        abundance, of colors beyond description, of moist and musty smells, of changing skies and
        reflections. It’s a land of plenty — where all creatures come when they are hungry,
        including man. My husband Bud and I came to harvest seafood from nature’s bounty. The
        occasion for our visit was the annual spring shrimping season. We also planned to fish,
        hike, photograph and just admire the rugged beauty of the area while camping. Joining the
        other travelers on the winding highway, we headed our motorhome north out of Shelton on
        U.S. 101 and adjusted our speed to the laid-back tempo of the little beach towns along the
        way. Just as we neared Brinnon from the south, we spotted Dosewallips State Park. Ideally
        located across the highway from the Hood Canal, it offers grassy, wooded campsites, some
        with hookups. Driving just a little bit farther, we spotted Cove RV Park, tackle shop and
        grocery. It is within a mile of the Hood Canal, just north of Brinnon. We set up camp, then
        launched our boat in nearby Pleasant Harbor cove. Pleasant Harbor is formed by a spit of
        land that curves around the cove like a mother’s arm, protecting the vessels inside from
        the wind, waves and wrath of the canal. This ordinarily sleepy little harbor was busier
        than a mall at Christmastime. Early Saturday morning, excited shrimpers shivered on the
        docks as they loaded bait, lunches and drinks and cast off their vessels for the open
        canal. There are as many types of crews as there are boats. Most common is the fiberglass
        cabin cruiser, captained by Dad at the helm, assisted by Mom and crewed by kids
        straitjacketed in their colorful flotation devices. Once out in the canal, the sailors
        scoot back and forth across the water, reading their depth finders to locate just the right
        place to drop their pots. At 9 a.m. sharp, one confident soul toots his horn to signify
        that it’s time to drop pots. We saw shrimpers spooling out yards of yellow nylon ropes and
        marking the location of their pots with yellow buoys. Finding one’s own buoy when the time
        comes to pull it up can be quite a challenge among so many, so shrimpers decorate their
        floats in some very creative ways. While shrimpers waited for the little crustaceans to
        take their bait, they boated over to their friends to inquire what kind of bait was working
        best today. The busiest fellow was a local who stood in the back of his aluminum boat,
        clutching the tiller of his outboard motor. He flew a small pirate flag on a short mast.
        His wife huddled in the bow quietly while he visited all boats within his navigating
        ability. After about an hour, the shrimpers pulled up their pots to see how many they had
        caught. We did our share of pot-pulling while observing the local color. When we returned
        to Pleasant Harbor that afternoon, our cooler was filled with a day’s limit of spotted
        shrimp. The next day we ventured out to explore our surroundings. Water is everywhere! It
        ebbs and flows in the bay. It gushes from underground springs and bubbles down the verdant
        hillsides. It falls, sometimes gently, sometimes in a torrent, from the sky. In the canal,
        it sometimes tosses violently in the wind. Other times, it peacefully reflects the green,
        blue and purple mountains that surround it. The weather here is as changeable as your
        socks. Although the sun was shining when we arrived, gray skies opened up on our first day
        on the water and it rained with fury. Dark clouds with sheets of rain falling beneath them
        rested most of the time on the mountaintops around us. But, we reminded ourselves, it is
        this weather that creates the beautiful forests, rivers and lakes that we had come to
        enjoy. One cold and blustery morning, after learning there was a “minus” tide, Bud and I
        donned our yellow slickers and rubber boots and began a trek to the estuary across the road
        from our campsite in search of oysters, clams and adventure. We gathered two buckets, two
        rakes, two plastic bags and two oyster shuckers and started to walk toward the exposed
        oyster and clam beds just across the highway from our campground. At last we found what we
        were searching for. A bed of oysters was exposed at the outermost edge of the waterline at
        low tide. A quick scratch with a rake revealed clams, cockles, geoduck and other shelled
        creatures that feed just below the surface of the mud and sand. Being new at harvesting
        shellfish, we approached a few of the folks already working on their harvest, inquired
        about their methods and the regulations we should observe. We were told that it is
        important not to step on the oysters and break them, as they will die. Also, because baby
        oysters attach themselves to their parents’ shells, one should not remove discarded shells
        from below the waterline after shucking. Clams, we learned, are only 4 to 6 inches beneath
        the surface and can be easily exposed by using a rake or a small shovel. At first, Bud
        gathered and shucked oysters while I raked and gathered clams. Then we traded equipment and
        jobs. As we worked, we got better at it. I learned to turn my back to the wind as I sat on
        my bucket and let the slicker do the work of keeping my hands and face out of the rain and
        wind. Sea gulls watched us walk away from our scratchings, then flew down and picked up a
        few clams we had left exposed. The gulls have learned to carry the clam aloft, drop it on
        the rocks below, cracking it, then swoop down for dinner. After two hours of trial, error
        and discovery, we were ready to trek back to shore with two plastic bags full of 18 shucked
        oysters apiece and two buckets carrying 40 clams each. When we arrived home, we were eager
        to describe our adventures to friends and to share an incomparable seafood dinner harvested
        from Mother Nature’s bounty. We’re already planning our next visit to the Hood Canal; we
        can hardly wait to smell the salt air, the rain and the musty woods again. Before
        You Go: Regulations for harvesting shellfish may be found online at
        www.wa.gov/wdfw. You must purchase a Seaweed License in order to gather shrimp, oysters,
        crabs or clams. A separate bucket or container to put the catch into is required for each
        licensee. Be sure to check with the Department of Health Marine Toxins Hotline, (800)
        562-5632, before harvesting shellfish to determine if there is any local contamination.
On a Shellfish Quest: Hood Canal, Washington
Originally Published in MotorHome Magazine

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