YOU DON’T HAVE to be crazy to dig razor clams in the night tides of January — but it helps.
At least you can take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in thinking it sounds like a good idea to walk out on an ocean beach in a 40 mph wind and sideways rain into the surf, where you can be slammed into the sand by a giant wave that tries to drag you back into the deep water. It’s not a good idea, but there is an explanation.
Like many enduring the dark, dank, drippy winter, I had a case of cabin fever.
If you don’t know about cabin fever, you’re probably not from around here. Some people suspect cabin fever is nothing more than an excuse to sit in front of some electronic device as the hours of your day and the days of your life circle down a drain to a bottomless pit of a wasted time.
Cabin fever is a common, chronic, seasonal disorder that hits the Olympic Peninsula every winter about the time the last Christmas cookie disappears.
The holidays are over. Only the mess, the bills and guilt remain.
An otherwise healthy individual is reduced to a zombie-like couch tuber whose motor skills have dwindled to the twitching of the remote control and the opening of yet another tub of ice cream.
Cabin fever victims can experience bloating, depression, brain fog and an inexplicable feeling that everyone else is better off than they are, probably because they are.
Cabin fever sufferers are often unaware they even have a problem until they begin hoarding hot water bottles, darning their socks and watching old movies.
In the low light of the dark days, we think things couldn’t get much worse, so we go clamming in a hurricane to prove ourselves wrong.
Once upon the clam beach, you can be consoled by the fact that you are not alone. No, there are others who have gone before, stalking the edge of the surf.
You hike out on the beach with them to dodge the full fury of the ocean surf in hopes of spotting the faintest dimple in the sand that reveals the presence of the elusive razor clam.
Spotting the clam and digging them are two different things.
Sometimes it’s a challenge to match wits with a clam, until you realize they have no brain.
You kneel on a tide flat in the dark with your arm in a hole in the sand, feeling around for a clam. Upon not finding the clam, you realize you have been outsmarted by a creature with no central nervous system.
That makes perfect sense in the evolutionary scheme of things.
Bivalves have been around since the Cambrian Era more than 500 million years ago. The whole time the clams have been evolving into stronger, smarter and faster organisms with complex abilities to survive in a hostile environment, while humans seem to be getting dumber every year.
As the wave retreats, you have only a little time before another wave crashes in.
You must spot the clam and dig like a banshee, then struggle with the fleeing clam as it tries to dig to China.
You hear another clam digger rush by, heading back toward the beach shouting, “Wave!”
A decision must be made. Let go of the giant, mossy-back razor clam, or hang on and get creamed by a wave of unknown height, bearing down on you in the dark and stormy night.
Whether you get your clam or not, your cabin fever is cured!
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Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist” whose column appears here every Wednesday.
He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.
