At the base of Wolf's Head Mountain rests the small native fishing

village called Klama Bay. The community nestles in one of the many

coves along the jagged Washington coast, its weather-worn houses

blending in perfectly with the gray sandy beaches hugging it.

While her husband is tending to the fishnets and "drifting" up

and down the long winding Klama River, Jessie slowly, carefully, hangs

out the last batch of wash, consisting of slightly off-white towels

and pillow slips that billow in the slight breeze. She's already

filled three of the four wire lines that stretch tautly across the

wide back yard. She smiles as she suddenly thinks back to that icy-

cold winter when she hung out her husbands long underwear. The

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