The beach announces itself in layers: first the briny tang of kelp drying on driftwood logs the size of station wagons, then the rhythmic shush of wavelets nudging pebbles across sand. Families stake territory early near the forty fire pits scattered along the shore, where you'll roast marshmallows within sight of container ships gliding toward Tacoma. Children in rubber boots squat at tide pools, chasing purple shore crabs between the rocks while gulls wheel overhead, emboldened by the scent of hot dogs on portable grills.
“One of the only Puget Sound beaches where you can legally gather shellfish, build a driftwood fire, and pitch a tent within earshot of the tide.”
Credit: FlickrWhere the river meets the sea
The shoreline runs gentle and gradual—no surprise drops, no fierce undertow—making it the rare Puget Sound beach where parents can exhale. At low tide, the waterline retreats a hundred yards, leaving behind tide flats studded with butter clams and moon snails. Bring a mesh bag and a shellfish license if you're inclined; locals know the November-through-March razor clam seasons draw weekend crowds armed with spades and buckets.
Above the beach, three hundred acres of second-growth forest hold eleven miles of trails where sword ferns grow waist-high and banana slugs inch across the path. The bluff trail offers glimpses of Maury Island and Vashon through the cedars. Come prepared for the Pacific Northwest truth: the water hovers around fifty-two degrees year-round, and most swimmers are either under ten years old or wearing wetsuits. But on those rare July afternoons when the sun breaks through the marine layer, you'll understand why locals guard this stretch so fiercely.
