My West Coast family and I had a supreme heck of a time digging for clams in your neck of the woods. Netarts Bay to be exact. Safe to say, I was the only Chunk on the beach that day, and I kept careful watch over what my peeps were doing. Given we had the lowest tides of the year at -2 ft, we walked away with buckets full and hearts slightly heavy for the souls lost to our shovels. But boy did they taste good in my omelette!
Clams, here I come!
GOONIES!!!
HEY YOU GUYS!!!
Backbreaking work put in by my men.
Dig, men, dig!
Supervising and watchin some backs.
Nobody gets past the Chunk, Protector of Clams.
That's right. Run you heathens!
Let's get to counting...
... 96...
Woah! That's a lotta clams!
A whole LOTTA clams!
Three generations of Krautmann Klammers. Whutz up?!!!
One for you, PoPo.
Off to cook our loot! Argh, ye sorry souls!
JYK
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