Photos: Kachemak Bay low tide reveals richness in color, life

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A bloom of jellies.

Here, on the south side of Kachemak Bay, big tides combine with rocky shorelines and clear water to shelter a phenomenal assembly of slimy and scuttling life. I've walked thousands of miles of shores, and I can tell you this: Seldovia has the best low-tiding. The pools are lovely.

I don't go low-tiding for the kids. But I stop for them. I stop my hurried splash past the commonest things — the stars and burrowing anemones and hairy tritons — to crouch down with my 4-year-old, feeling the tacky pull of tentacles and tube feet, running our fingers over the sandy cases of worms. Gooey, sandy, slimy, sharp, rough, hairy, sticky, spongy, slippery, wiggly, spiny, soft and wet. Low tide is for touching.

Low tide has a sound. A hissing, squealing, whistling, popping sound of water disappearing. You can hear barnacles closing. Listen as the limpets and snails suction their moist bodies against the rocks. It smells like a breeze of salty decay. It tastes like gritty nori and sea lettuce plucked straight from the rocks.

My daughter chews a handful as we walk -- rock to rock across the now-flooding pools. Barnacles and snails crunch, inevitably, beneath our feet. Low tide has always been vulnerable to us.

READ MORE: Tidepool wonder in Kachemak Bay