Once upon a time there were a couple of UW forestry majors
who dreamed of working on an oyster farm. (Yeah I know,
far cry from a timber stand). For years whenever they
could get up to the San Juans they would weave their little
putt-putt boat through the maze of buoys and nets up to the floating docks
in Westcott Bay, climb up on the high pier and watch longingly
as the diggers dug clams on the beaches below,
and the shuckers shucked oysters in the shacks
at the end of the dock. It was a bustling scene, and looked like
something you wanted to be a part of. The pair couldn't afford
to buy the already-harvested oysters, so went to the mucky beaches
below and picked their own oysters for their much-anticipated BBQ.
For the next 30 years the pair, along with their extended family,
would zip over to the oyster farm on warm summer afternoons,
in a progression of sturdier and faster boats, and choose
oysters from the baths of already-harvested oysters...the
smaller the oyster, the more expensive. It was a sacred and
cherished tradition to take them back to the island cabin,
whip up a zingy hot sauce, and savor each delectable bivalve
as it popped open on the barbecue.
Sadly, the oyster farm is winding down, as the aging and spread-out
family members who own it are wishing to sell the property.
I recently took an extended tour of the defunct property,
in the company of a biologist who has worked the farm
since its inception, as well as a local expert in the structural
aspects of what is left.
One can always dream.
Black Oystercatcher.
The longest dock.
Nets over the clam beds.
History.
Summer season's harvested oyster tanks.
The office.
Man-made anchors pulled from the salty waters.
Retired nets.
Naturally occurring oysters.
Buoy line graveyard.
Cockle.
Biologist lore.
Ghost pier.
As big as a shoe if left untended....
(I'll opt for a Kumamoto instead, thank you).
Growth rings.
Walking the tidal flats.
Outbuilding.
Former bath house from Camp Nor'wester.
Original Camp structures.
Prior to becoming a full-time sea farm, this was the original
Camp Nor'wester, which is now firmly established over on John's Island.
Tubs for growing spat (oyster seed).
Relic.
Buoy magic.
Perfectly staged: someone must have been awaiting
the arrival of my camera.
Stay tuned....
I'd like to say this is just the beginning.
One can always dream.
