Ah, the state parks system. What a way to get away.

Our little family doesn’t get to camp together as often as we’d like, probably because half of us already spend a weekend every month in tents and sleeping bags thanks to our involvement with the Boy Scouts.

But occasionally, we pack up the family tent and head to a state park. It’s a quick and easy way to escape the din of the cell phones, computers and other home electronics and take a refresher course in simple living.

We spent a few semi-primitive days at Dosewallips State Park 40 miles north of Shelton, Wash., a couple of summers ago, and the trip generated one of our favorite family stories.

Our drive-in campsite bordered a small stream, and the shores of Hood Canal were just around the corner. ‘Twas the season for harvesting oysters, razor clams and those giant ugly shellfish called geoducks (and to fully appreciate this story, you need to know how to pronounce that: gooeyducks).

The kids wanted to play, so we sent them off on impromptu nature scavenger hunts. Tom and I were content – nay, ecstatic – to settle into our camp chairs and stare at the fire all afternoon.

Up the road came trudging an Asian family – husband and wife in their 30s, with tiny mother-in-law in tow – wearing rubber boots and carrying pails and shovels. They waved happily at us and stopped at our campfire. (Please pardon my approximation of his accent.)

“We looking for gooeyducks!” the man exclaimed, beaming.

“Ah, how nice,” “Good for you,” we smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

He paused a second, still grinning broadly, then gaily asked:

“Where ARE they?”

I hope they dug their limit.