Originating from a desert climate, Antho and I aren't exactly people who have had an overabundance of time spent exploring tide pools and beaches, so the multiplicity of them available here has been astounding. I mean, sure, when I lived in Japan I'd make a point of it to walk along the river that ran through Urayasu and I'd gawk in wonder as the decrepit fishing boats' bones were exposed as the tide retreated, revealing hulls encrusted in barnacles, but these opportunities are quite rare to indulge in the Mojave desert. Here in Washington, there's an array of biomes available to explore, from the rocky beaches dotting the Puget Sound to deep, densely green growths of forest cropping out from anywhere a human has neglected to tame. Crows, bunnies, and squirrels roam the streets of Seattle proper, and I've even spotted a herd of goats in the densely populated University District! Washington and Seattle's city streets are teeming with life, and the Sound carving up the region provides so many beaches and waterfront sanctuaries that we really have no excuse not to explore.
When the tide's glossy grip retreats from the beach at Picnic Point beach, all sorts of life is revealed from the normally hidden aquatic world. We have visited Picnic Point Park during high tide when it's an entirely different place, so seeing it transformed is fascinating- at least to me. I was unable to join Antho on the beach on this particular outing, so he took all the photos for me and I was able to look over them later to see what I missed. He found much evidence of moon snails, a strange aquatic critter that bores holes through the shells of smaller mollusks and grows to an outlandish (to our appraisal) size. With the water retreated, crows and herons flock to the soggy shore to pluck up snacks galore, from crabs to snails to full-on fish. Sad jellyfish and a staggering, swishy drunk man join the menagerie, backed by the steady serenade of the waves dashing against the land's edge. I can just hear those tiny sea-weed dwelling bugs in their infernal hopping, clicking noise, eager to latch onto any passing food-source and leave itchy welts to remember them by.
We'll definitely be back. Nothing is ever static, and while life is constantly changing, the changing of the tides is a good reminder that sometimes it's best to just go with the flow. You can fight the current, but if you're patient it'll change soon enough. In the meantime, enjoy the crustaceans and getting sprayed by mysterious mollusks as they flee into the depths of the sand.
Thanks for visiting, catch ya on the flip side!
💙
XOXO,
NAU
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