Over the last five years I have enjoyed a plethora of opportunities to explore Cape Disappointment State Park. My excursions often leave me feeling refreshed and re-created. The only thing better than wandering the woods alone, is to wander with someone else who shares your passion. Professor A. W. Devoe, author of “The Enchanted Cape: A Story of the Rocky Headlands of the Columbia’s Entrance,” a newspaper article originally published in The Tribune, June 1932, shares my passion.

Devoe spent four years teaching for Ilwaco High School, and while he was in the area, he spent much of his free time at the cape, crawling and climbing around.
Devoe describes the forest of Cape Disappointment when there were still visible signs of the logging that occurred there by the Spruce Squadron during World War I. Even with this removal of some of the largest Sitka Spruce from the cape, the forest still retained much of its wildness. Devoe captured the scene, “An interval in the fall of the rain and we seek the abandoned trail of the logger. Here within the previous decade he felled these forest lords and dragged them, deeply scarring the land, to the edge of the cliff on the Bay.” Devoe then describes the renewal of the forest, “Along these healing scars April will hang globes of read and gold salmon berries and generous summer will fill the tangle with luscious blackberries. We follow on breast deep in bracken and sword fern. Within the deepest shade we enter the abode of a ghoulish brotherhood, the saprophytic tribes of mushrooms and toadstools.”

In “The Enchanted Cape,” Devoe makes multiple references to the story “The Jungle Book.” “Our path becomes a rabbit burrow, and like the Jungle Boy in his visit to the Cobra we creep for many yards through the dark recesses of a tunnel. Tiny mouse like birds flit by; about us the profusion and tangle of plant forms make apparent that deliberate haste with which leaf and stem struggle to cover every available portion of the mold, and seek every crevice where through a ray of light may filter them. So evident is the dominating vitality of plant life in this wilderness of rain and warm west wind that we turn in sympathy with the forest, again to the imagery of Kipling; “I will let loose against you fleet-footed vines, I will call in the jungle to stamp out your lines, The roofs shall fall before me, the house beams shall fall, and the maze of the thicket shall cover it all.”

For this particular article, Devoe just briefly discusses any cultural history of Cape Disappointment; instead he accentuates the geography. In the following passage, Devoe attempts to rename the cape in order to respect its place in world. “To know the associations which hover about a point is to endow it with interest. If it is significant among the physical features of a continent; if it be one of the nations’ gateways; if it is quick with traditions of brave encounter with river and sea and if then beauty and the beneficence of nature are strikingly apparent, surely that point is destined to become a Mecca to the eager throngs who journey far to worship at such shrines. Cape Disappointment! What a misnomer! Rather shall it be Cape of Romance, Cape Munificent.”

Devoe was not only fond of Cape Disappointment, he also apparently loved seafood. He spends a third of the article discussing the virtues of eating fresh razor clams, crabs, and Chinook salmon. In closing, Devoe comes back around to close “The Enchanted Cape” with his distinct flowery and fancy language, capturing the essence of a magical kingdom. “Long afterwards shall memory of the feast abide a minor pattern in the tapestry of recollection of this charmed region so richly endowed with human interest. This historic site about which there cluster tales and tales; of a sturdy yeomanry who follow the migratory hordes; of those who labored so valiantly against titanic forces of tide and wave and current, and after 40 years confined the Columbia to a channel and made safe passage for ships. Stories and stories of ships buried in the sands, and of those who so eagerly scan the ocean traffic and serve it in stress and peril, Cape Disappointment in region of enchantment! May its legends be ever remembered. May the spell of its enchantment spread across the land, to be often recalled by sojourners in distant places.”
The next time you visit Cape Disappointment State Park, take a walk in the woods, bring a friend, or at least bring the vision of Devoe. See the forest through the trees. Stumble upon some stumps and sit a spell. Discover a legend lost in the fog or moss. Contemplate your own name for the cape; our cape.

I’m so disappointed.  The sun was out today; a gorgeous day, really, and I didn’t get a chance to head out for a ride on Discovery Trail.

The trail, 8 miles through beach, dunes and hillside, from the north end of Long Beach to the port marina in Ilwaco, began construction in 2002 as a part of the Lewis and Clark bicentennial commemoration.  It is dotted with view-worthy monuments, from the 18-foot bronze tree bearing William Clark’s carved initials, to a re-articulated gray whale skeleton, a bronze of Captain Clark with a sturgeon, a basalt monolith, Maya Lin’s fish cleaning station at Cape Disappointment and many more.

A life-size sculpture of a California Condor is being placed at the southern terminus of the trail, at the Port of Ilwaco, in just a few days.  I believe this is the last of the bicentennial commemoration monuments planned, but I’ve been surprised before.

The very exiting news came from the Long Beach City Council meeting this week: paving has begun for the final piece of trail.   This connection will allow cyclists, those in wheelchairs and others simply needing a smooth, solid footing, to traverse the entire 8-mile length.  For those of us watching the trail’s development since inception, this is momentous!

At the tender age of ten, on a family vacation, my brothers and I discovered the joy of roads made just for walkers and bicyclists.  Oh, how we flew over the rolling slopes and took joy in pretending we knew the rules of the automobile driving roads.  We had such fun on those rides.  When I take my bicyle out on Discovery Trail, those memories come flooding back.

There are rolling slopes that cause you to pedal quickly at the bottom of the curve so as to make it to the top–but not sooo quickly that a no-longer-ten-year-old body can’t easily do so.  Down into the dune grass we go, all but hidden from sight, and then up to a panoramic view of ocean and beach, surf and sand.  Whoosh!  Under the boardwalk!  Over the bridge!  It’s always a grand adventure.

That’s the thing; this place is still the beach of my childhood.  And my inner child is very happy here.

I hope to meet you out on the trail.

The first of the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife information and public input meetings brought some great information into public view. The Chinook Observer reports:

What to expect for the 2008-09 season:

• Clam population: 3.5 million, a slight decrease from last season
• Harvest quota: 1,052,000 or 30 percent of the clam population
• 19 digging days
• Clams this season will be slightly smaller on average – 4.2 inches – compared to 4.8 inches last season
• The first clam tide will be mid-October and will surely be a “dark tide,” meaning diggers will be seeking clams in the dark. Possible dig dates (by no means official): Oct. 17 and 18, Nov. 14 and 15, Dec. 12 and 13.

The best news is that the clams on the Long Beach Peninsula are the largest sampled on the Washington coast this year. Most of the clams surveyed this test were found either at Beard’s Hollow or above Ocean Park. Ayers said the probable cause for this is that the waters flowing out of the Columbia River (with a northern current) have a lower salinity level and loop around Beard’s Hollow and move onto the beach. The northern end of the Peninsula is bathed by the rich waters that flow in and out of Willapa Bay, much favored by the clam population.

In a recently completed growth survey, in which many clams are marked and recounted, it was found that local clams grew 4 inches the first year, then leveled off for the remainder of their lives of generally four to five years.  [read the full story]

Locavore.  n. Culinary adventurers making an effort to eat only foods grown or harvested within a 100-mile radius of their homes. Word of the Year 2007 in the New Oxford American Dictionary.

Tilth on the Willapa, a local non-profit earnestly inspiring digging in the dirt for increased food production on the Peninsula, is having a locavore dinner and evening of discussion 5:30 pm to 8:30 pm, Thursday, Sept. 25, at the Senior Center in Klipsan Beach.

The meal will be prepared by accomplished chef Jimella Lucas, of Ark Restaurant fame and currently proprietor of Jimella’s Seafood Market and Community Store.  Goat cheese, potatoes, beets, parsnips, chard, greens, squash and garlic will all come from local farms, donated by Tilth members.  There are rumors of a rhubarb tart for dessert.  Meal cost is a very reasonable $8 for adults and $4 for kids 12+ (younger kids are free).  There is no fee for folks wanting to attend just the evening program and discussion, featuring National Public Radio personality, musician, author, auctioneer, and oyster farmer, Sandy Bradley, which begins at 6:15 pm.

There is so much wonderful, locally-grown food here in the Pacific Northwest and especially at the mouth of the Columbia River.  Whether you’re a Peninsulan, one of our neighbors, of just in the area for a visit, come celebrate the harvest, eat some fabulous food and learn more about gardening.  For more information, or to donate locally-produced food, contact Sandy at 360-665-2926.

I am NOT a cook.  Not even close.  But I can bake some pretty darned fine goodness. Roger H commented on his recipe for cranberry sauce and it got me to thinking that this is a great time of year to share those harvest recipes. I’ll go find my favorite recipe for zucchini-cranberry-pumpkin bread if you’ll share your recipes for some of the harvest goodness we enjoy here on the Long Beach Peninsula at this time of year.

So… what do you have, blog readers?  A blueberry, cranberry, blackberry or marionberry bit of yum?  An exotic wild mushroom entrée or side dish, perhaps?  Oysters? Crab? Razor Clams? Tuna? Halibut? Salmon? How about some bit of magic for tackling those gorgeous artichokes in the back yard, or your favorite Washington Apple Pie recipe?

Post your recipes as comments or, better still, email them to me at webmaster@washingtonsbestkeptsecret.com, (along with a photo of the final product would be wonderful) and I’ll post them in blogspace.

But first, I’m going to try cranberry-pecan yogurt for breakfast. :-)

One of the many incredibly wonderful things about fall on the Peninsula is the cranberry harvest.  Weather usually turns cool enough to make bright red berries ready for harvest around the second week/end of October.

Most of the berries around here end up as juice, specifically, Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice.  The color is exquisite and I hear our berries are added to less colorful berries grown elsewhere to get that signature claret color.  Because they are juice berries, they are wet-harvested, which is something I never tire of watching (I absolutely do tire of putting on hip waders and participating!).

For 87 years now–EIGHTY-SEVEN years!–a celebration of all things cranberry takes place during the harvest.  This year, the Cranberrian Fair will be October 10th, 11th & 12th and will include the ever-popular Cranberry Trolley, bog tours, food sampling, live entertainment, crafters and more.

“Cranberry Trolley?” you say?  We used to call it the “bog bus” ;-).  Beginning at Ilwaco’s Columbia Pacific Heritage Museum, the trolley car zips visitors up to the Cranberry Museum, just a few mile north.   The Cranberry Museum is an under-discovered place.  Year-round, you can take a self-guided tour of the ten acres of demonstration bogs here, and the museum and gift shop are open April through December (or by appointment).  But during the Cranberrian Fair, docents are on hand to share the history of cranberry growing on the Peninsula as well as modern harvest methods.  You can sip cranberry juice, enjoy live entertainment and purchase samples of cranberry products including fresh cranberries, all while getting your cranberry-inquisitive questions answered by knowledgeable staff and farmers.

Board the Trolley to head back to the Columbia Pacific Heritage Museum where you’ll find a variety of vendors, offering handmade items such as pottery, jewelry, books, paintings, cranberry vine baskets, peach/cranberry pies, yard art, and undoubtedely more, given the creativity of the organizing group. There will also be a cranberry growing display, a number of raffles and locally-produced cranberry products from Oysterville Sea Farms.

I’m digressing for a moment here to tell you about another under-discovered Peninsula adventure:  The Columbia-Pacific Heritage Museum.  I’m convinced this building is under some Hogwartian spell.  It doesn’t seem like a very large building, but once inside, it seems to grow and grow and grow.  Every twist and turn between exhibits seems to contort the building until you feel like you’re in an ever-expanding, magical maze.  It’s truly stunning how much they pack in, without it feeling at all crowded.  Every time I take visiting friends or family into the museum (one of my favorite activities for visiting company), I am again struck by this phenomenon.

The Cranberry Trolley will run on the hour from the Columbia Pacific Heritage Museum from 11AM until 2PM Friday through Sunday.  Fair buttons are $5 each and cover admission to the festival activities at the Columbia Pacific Heritage Museum, the Cranberry Trolley, and all events at the Cranberry Museum.  Want to know more?  Visit the Cranberrian Fair page, or call the Columbia-Pacific Heritage Museum at 360-642-3446.

Want to dry-harvest berries yourself?  You can do that here, too.  Stop by the Visitors Bureau for a list of locations.

Benson Beach, Ilwaco, Washington

I actually have no idea what these little buggers taste like.  To me, they taste like aluminum (silly shellfish allergy, anyhow).  But to my friends and family, they are the delectable, tender goodness that marks the transition in and out of wintertime here at the beach.

In Washington, sport clamming is open during just a few short seasons each spring and fall.  Throngs of people travel westward for the digs, a surge in population for hours or days, sometimes in torrential downpours and sometimes in idyllic weather.  Myself, I love to go clamming.  Instead of a license and a shovel, I bring a camera.  And only on those days that are like walking into a Botticellian paradise.

No Venus Here...

Gratefully, there are a number of fine clam cleaners here that will take a catch and make it near edible for just a few dollars.  My husband uses one.  He then delivers the clams to a dear woman by the name of Jane who freezes them, later to fry them up in panko breading and invite him and a gaggle of other grubbers over to dine.  Fine woman, that Jane.  But I digress.

This month marks the gathering of input by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW).  Among their many tasks, these public servants have the job of deciding how many clams there are to be harvested, on which beaches, and how many days it will take clammers to hit those limits.

The one that got away

Deciding which days to open the digs has got to be something like putting together a jigsaw puzzle.  Out-of-towners, as a general rule, prefer the digs be on Saturdays, or crossing several days that include the weekend.  Merchants, on the other hand, rely heavily on these few days of potential profit during an otherwise very lean 8-10 months of the year, and prefer the digs be set so as to encourage overnight visits.

I don’t blame them at all;  it’s tough to make a living in a place where the overwhelming majority of residents make their annual income during a 3-4 month time period and spend the rest of the year paying nearly the same bills, without the customer base to support them.   We choose living here because we love it.  That doesn’t mean it is lucrative, or even financially easy, to live in Paradise.

And so it comes that WDFW Shellfish Managers seek public input regarding the upcoming fall razor clam season by presenting a series of public meetings, after which the fall dig seasons will be set.  Biologists will be reviewing, and discussing the findings of a recently completed “razor clam stock assessment for the Washington coast” at the gatherings.   Sounds like a hoot and a holler, don’t it?  Really though, the meetings are designed to give people a chance to provide suggestions and I’ve watched the process enough times to say that what is said in these forums is really listened to by WDFW and they do seem to implement informed compromises in response.  Which isn’t to say everyone is happy, but that’s an entirely different blog.

Digging by the dog method is not advised.

Good news, clam diggers:  It seems the clam population has been growing and there may even be additional dig days this year (2008-2009 season).  So come on out, learn something, give some input, and then come clamming.  You’ll find all the date and location information here.  It really IS a hoot and a holler, whether you dig ‘em …or shoot ‘em with your camera.

The BEST source for planning a trip to dig razor clams here on the Long Beach Peninsula:
http://funbeach.com/attractions/clams/

If you look closely, you might even spot Jane.

We used to have a little motel in Seaview, Washington.  The end of the Kite Festival marked the last burst of summer; one week until Labor Day, one week after that until Rod Run, then a drop off in visitors with 2-3 weeks of the quiet, largely retired, travelers and the return to our quiet beach existence.

I looked to this time of year with a mixture of sadness and relief.  Hoteliers are some of the hardest working folk around.  Here in an economy of feast or famine seasons, the reduction in work load was always welcomed after 4 months of steady comings and goings, piles of laundry, long hours and maintenance surprises.  At the same time, the end of season meant missing the families returning, watching kids and dogs get a year older and catching up on the lives of what we came to call our extended family.  In the quiet season, I missed the stories of weddings, anniversaries and other momentous family occasions spent blissfully at our beach.  I missed the family reunions and group gatherings, watching the joys of other families with the perspective of it not being one’s own.

Families return each year to our beach, swelling its population from a year-round 10,000-ish to as many as 75,000 on a summer Saturday.  I like both sides of that coin;  it’s akin to the changing of seasons from winter snow to spring budding to warm summer to rainy fall (something we don’t really experience here).  We get to bask in the contrast of being a bustling string of little towns for a few months a year and having 28 miles of beach all to ourselves the rest of the time.  The ebb and flow is sometimes more jolting than we’d like, but it’s precious, nonetheless.

I look forward to those fall and winter days when the sun pops its shining face out and gives those of us lucky enough to live here year-round a private day of summer exploration.  We’ve been grumbling a lot this summer about the lack of, well, “summer”.  The days we’ve had sun have been few and far between, uncharacteristic for our little slice of coast.  It’s frustrating, in an economy driven by tourism, to have the weather keeping our summer friends from coming to the beach.

But last night, when I walked outside just after midnight and was met with the most velvety mist of fog, better than any facial I’ve ever paid for, with the perfect accompaniment of 63-degrees… I just wanted to go for a walk.  So we did.  Those moments are usually found in the spring and fall, and reserved for those of us who are serendipitously in the right place at the right time, the odds increased by our full-time exposure.

So, I guess my thoughts for today can be summed up by saying it isn’t so much a cold summer as an opportunity to share some of the magic of this place with those who normally don’t get to see this face of our Peninsula.  May our part-time residents realize its charms.

It turned out to be over 100 degrees on the I-5 corridor, from Seattle metro to Portland metro.  That means coooool weather here at the beach.  The morning had some patches of sun but the clouds took over as the day went on.  Jazz fans weren’t bothered though.  There was a cheer for cool weather!

Lauren Sheehan opened the day with folk and gospel tunes.  I really liked that she encouraged sing-a-long to some great old tunes but most preferred to hear her unique sound.  Mary Kadderly and Nancy King kept the crowd of 500+ happy all afternoon, right up to, and through, the thunderstorm and rain showers.  I can see why Nancy King has been called both a cult hero and “the greatest living jazz singer”.   The way Mary Kadderly’s voice combines with Nancy’s to make a whole greater than its parts was delightful.  Dan, Dan and Bill:  Dang, guys.  You did good.

Taylor Shellfish donated the oysters for the day (Thanks, Taylor Shellfish!).  The fruit and cheese plates are always a popular item and this year’s addition of grilled salmon plates went over well also.  It was so hard to choose desserts! Jazz & Oysters is a fundraiser for Water Music Festival, when the group brings chamber music to the Peninsula in free and low-cost concerts, so the donations of oysters and desserts from many area restaurants were most welcome.

Click any image for a closer look.  Click it again for an even closer look.

Man, this weekend is going to rock!  Come say hello at Jazz & Oysters on Sunday, where you’ll find me (and dozens of other volunteers) working at Jazz & Oysters.  I adore this event.  It reminds me of picnics my family had on Seattle’s Green Lake when I was a kid.

Grab a blanket or a beach chair and stretch out on the grassy lawn of Oysterville’s historic schoolhouse (the whole village is on the National Historic Register).  Listen to first-rate musicians, wondering how this little team that could gets such top-notch entertainment to tiny Oysterville.  Get up and dance if ya wanna (I will!).

Meanwhile, smell oysters cooking on a huge outdoor grille, have a beer, wine or soda, maybe a shrimp or crab cocktail, some fruit & cheese, and some amazing desserts…

It’s one of those “Lazy Days of Summer” sort of experiences that have me continually saying this is “the beach of my childhood”.  AND, the event is a fundraiser for Water Music Festival in October, when the group brings classical music to the Peninsula in free and low-cost concerts, making it accessible to everyone.

This year, the brilliant merchants of Ilwaco, on the southern end of this spit of sand, have added a Saturday evening event called Blues & Seafood.  I’m sooo looking forward to seeing what they have in store for us tonight!