The Narrative Image

Uncle Rico did a quick back-of-the-napkin calculation. "144 beers." he mumbled, "assuming we each drink 12 beers a day". "I assume bringing water would be entirely out of the question?" I broached. But he just looked at me as if I were entirely crazy. I didn't know about Kip for sure, but I was having a hard time fitting the concept of 12 beers a day into a low carbohydrate eating routine. I was also having a hard time fitting 48 beers into my kayak. In an act of unparalleled beneficence, Uncle Rico stacked my ice chest on the towering pile of gear extruding from the cockpit of his stable fishing platform/drilling rig/aquapod, relieving me of my ill conceived plan to tow it in a leaking rubber raft. We set off around the sheltered south side of Long Island on water so smooth you wouldn't even think it was Willapa Bay , where 9% of all oysters in the United States are grown (thank you Wikipedia entry on Willapa Bay ). ...

  Rhodesia Beach (Close to the Mouth of Willapa Bay ) (Drawing from The Five Chinese Brothers , by Claire Huhet Bishop and Kurt Wiese) Tides. They’re a mystery to me. Sometimes I go to the beach and they’re out. Sometimes I go to the beach and they’re in. Until recently, my best hypothesis for the broad expanses of beach exposed at low tide was derived from a book I read in my childhood called The Five Chinese Brothers. The disappearance of all the water from a bay can be attributed, according to the book, to the first Chinese brother swallowing the sea. Since he can not hold the entire sea in his mouth for very long… …I know it is unwise to walk out into the bay as far as Uncle Rico and Kip have in this picture. For instance, this would be a terrible time to hear the tsunami sirens. Uncle Rico perfects his cockle hunting protocol. Gently dragging his rake behind him, he remains alert to the subtle impact of shell against rake. We spend ...