This story originally appeared in our Queer Issue on June 4, 2025.
Photos by Madison Kirkman
When I go out to low tides around Seattle, my gaydar pings incessantly. Am I imagining it? Is it wishful thinking? Or are there actually a lot of queer folks at low tides?
I asked fellow queer low-tide enthusiasts, like Wendy Elisheva Somerson, who goes by Wes, if they also noticed this queer phenomenon.
“Oh, yeah, I do,” they confirmed. “You’re not making it up. There is 100 percent a connection, and there are always gaggles of queers down there.”
Nearshore worker and low-tide diehard, Orian Grant, has seen the growing trend in their 12 years of tide pooling. “At low tide, I’m seeing more queers showing up in groups than I’ve ever seen before.” Orian also mentions, “I think the sciences in general demand a certain kind of attention to yourself, and I think that might invite more people who are open-minded or who have a queer identity, just naturally.” They also point out the lack of physical accessibility in the intertidal zone “really excludes a lot of our comrades.” It’s the only thing Orian doesn’t like about tide pooling.
Hill Ossip has also clocked this queer presence. “It’s an unspoken thing,” says Hill. “Seeing all the different sea life and the millions of different ways that life exists beyond our human structures is really affirming. Because there is no one way to be.”
Perhaps the most desired low-tide find in the PNW is an octopus. The Puget Sound is home to several species of octopus, including the Giant Pacific Octopus (GPO), which can grow up to 14 feet long on average. The juvenile GPO seen here is small enough to fit in your hand.Hill studies a leather sea star in the sand. They feel like the shared excitement at low tide “creates a really safe space to just show up without the pressure of needing to be something or fit into something.” Does this count as cruising for leather daddies?A group gathers around to look at two moon snail egg collars, which provide shelter for smaller animals like baby sea stars, nudibranchs and their eggs, flatworms, and more. There is no shortage of life on the beach—the closer you look, the more you’ll discover.Tem delicately searches a small pool by a dock post, a lively spot for nudibranchs. Tem points out that intertidal life reminds them of queer “code-switching,” and what it’s like to navigate two very different worlds. “It’s also interesting how their physical forms and presentations have to change so much to endure and survive,” says Tem. OMG, the intertidal zone is trans!Wes (left) and Hill wade into the receding water to carefully check the moon snail egg collars for any nudibranchs and sea stars. Wes celebrates the diversity of nudibranchs, “especially as a non-binary person,” they say. “You know, there’s just lots of different ways to be! You can have sex in all kinds of different ways.”Moon snail egg collars may look like industrial garbage, but they are actually an incredibly smooth, round, uniform structure made up of tens of thousands of tiny eggs, finely sifted grains of sand, and sticky snail mucus. The diameter and size of the egg collar can tell you how large the moon snail was that left it. Be gentle with them!
