Clam Wench Weekend

Cold. Smelly. Boring. Exhausting. Miserable.

These are the four adjectives that I have used to describe camping for the last three decades. It all stems from a tragic family drama involving a 70s cabover, a Winston smoke-filled cab, "we've got a long way to go, and a short time to get there" blaring on the 8 track, food poisoning and a long weekend in Ninilchik. In reflection, most likely Memorial Day weekend.

Never wanted to go camping, ever again. And I never did. Until this last weekend.

Keith got a new Kodiak camping trailer for Father's Day, and was understandably itching to try it out. Our Anchorage neighbors invited us to go with them to the Kenai Pen and do and little clamming, which sounded like a good idea until the plan unfolded that they were staying at the Russian River and clamming in China Poot Bay.

Scratched our heads on that one as well. Then it came to light that my brother, sister, and cousin were staying at Aunt Amy's in Ninilchik and clamming there. Different types of clams, the big chewy razors instead of the petite steamers. Keith immediately resigned himself that he would be the only one digging, cleaning, and eating the clams, and was still game.

We weren't prepared for the 20+ campers who were bedded down on Amy's 14 acre spread, even after my brother backed out sighting the potential for rain. (Brian is a weenie!) But this weekend definitely turned into a case of "the more the merrier." Cousin Vince and his crew had the weekend down to a science, with activities to keep all ages engaged, and the company was the best one could hope for.

Vince wore his Clam-o-flague, lead the clamming expedition to the sacred grounds, charged tourists $10 for parking, $10 for beach access, $10 for clamming lessons, and accessed them a $10 fee for not flattening their divots. That guy knows how to mine some clams.

Cold, yes. Even Keith complained for lack of sleep due to cold. Smelly, after clamming, definitely. Exhausting, well, we did drive home and crash. Boring, no, especially when loaded with kids and newborn puppies. Miserable, definitely not. Next year? Count us in.