“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.”
— Harriet Beecher Stowe
There is a long-held belief among coastal anglers and baymen that if you don’t like the local marine weather, just wait — change is but minutes away. The same could be said of saltwater fishing. The next tide can exasperate the fishing from feast-to-famine, or vice versa.
The bulging of the Earth’s waters both toward and away from the moon creates tides. This hydrodynamic phenomenon pushes inward to create high tides, while water pulled in the opposite direction causes outward movement and low tides. The direct linear alignment of the Earth, moon and sun during new and full moon phases creates the strongest tides and currents. These cycles are known as spring tides — the strongest of which are king tides. At the other end of the spectrum are the weaker, neap tides that occur when the gravitational forces of the moon and sun are minimized by their perpendicular orientation to our planet. These tides arise during quarter-moon cycles.

Understanding the interrelationship between tide and current is one of the most important factors for angling success, whether fishing from the surf or from a boat. Tidal changes and the resultant currents influence the movements and feeding behaviors of bait and predatory fish. Fish will transition deeper into intertidal areas on the flood and follow bait with retreating water on the ebb. For example, striped bass and redfish will often move on and off flats with flooding and ebbing tides. Fish will feed deeper into marshes, grass lines, mangroves, harbors and backcountry areas on high water, and move out as the tide falls.
Gamefish naturally gravitate toward areas of current where they can ambush prey. As water rises throughout the intertidal zone to a point where maximum height and coastal penetration occur, the magnitude of that predatory reach is influenced by topography. The opposing ebb tide takes form as water levels recede and fall to the lowest point. Fishing action varies from tide to tide.

Tides also produce currents. While tidal bulges move water vertically, currents move laterally or horizontally. Tidal currents vary depending on the intensity of the tide; wind direction and strength; contour of the coastline; surface and subsurface structure like jetties, rock formations and boulders, channels, troughs; and areas where water funnels and accelerates. Water temperature can also alter current flows. The angler needs to prepare and take advantage of changing circumstances, and the best way to understand the fluctuations is to observe them. I spent a full day fishing all four tide cycles, learning as the waters shifted.
That four-cycle day took place during late spring, fly-fishing off a Long Island, New York, beach. The outing began two hours into the flood tide. I mapped out a course that looped around a set of beaches and covered approximately three miles of shoreline. The trip down those beaches and back to my starting point enabled me to fish certain zones and areas at different periods of the tide.
One of the most conspicuous reaffirmations was that a particularly good piece of water will most often only hold fish during specific tide-phase windows. Several critical factors contribute to a location’s productivity, including the availability of bait, current, time of season, water temperature and the obvious presence of the targeted species. When further examining current, a scenario unfolded highlighting the intensity moving water plays in stimulating bait and the feeding activity of the predatory fish that track such food sources.

One location only yielded fish during two specific current phases: when the current was at peak strength and when that same current slowed to a point where reverse back-eddies formed along portions of that same beach. Equally revealing was that during both instances, the window of opportunity for catching fish lasted no more than 45 minutes. Productive fishing spots do not produce all the time — you have to know when to hit them. An angler who happens upon a spot like this during an off period might easily conclude that it’s a dead zone when, in reality, it transforms into a hot spot under ideal conditions.
The true secret to fishing tidal locations is to understand the interrelationship of the variables and how such factors work in concert to create an environment conducive to catching fish. I have seen anglers walk right past productive beach spots without taking a single cast. Heavily fished areas have no secret spots, just spots that hold secrets.

While many surfcasters take up fixed positions and wait out the tidal changes with the hope of fish swimming by, I prefer to stay on the move, seeking out the fish. This is not simply a serendipitous walk on the beach, but rather one that times my movements and fishing activity in concert with the peak activity at each of my anticipated stops. Although the former method is like sitting in a tree stand when deer hunting, the latter tactic is more akin to still-hunting, where the hunter slowly moves through the woods in search of game. Both methods can be effective, but success depends upon understanding when and why a particular location switches on or off. Equally important is knowing when to sit still and when to move.
I am painfully reminded of a day when I chose to sit at home watching a New York Yankees game rather than joining my friend Chuck Moore for a late-afternoon surfcasting session. It was a hot, summer Sunday, and I figured the beach would be swarming with humanity and heightened boat traffic. I checked the tide chart and was not happy with the stage of the tide. Foolishly, I declined the offer to fish.
My phone rang during the eighth inning. “Hey Ang, meet me at the beach and bring your camera. I got a good one!” My stomach sank. Chuck rarely, if ever, kept a bass — this had to be a very good fish. Indeed, it was, weighing 51 pounds, the largest bass my friend had ever caught from the beach. Chuck knew the area would offer a productive preslack tide that would converge with one last remaining flow of structure-related current. There was a small window to capitalize on the movements and feeding behaviors of any bass in the neighborhood.

His big striper hit at the very end of slack tide among a series of exposed boulders where the slightest of current remained. It required a long cast, but as a former professional baseball pitcher, he could throw a plug a great distance. Following the capture of that trophy striper, we fished the area regularly during similar tides with considerable success. The bass did not bite every time, but when they did, the results were exceptional.
With the assistance of tides, currents and a fishing friend who is a bit of a weather geek, I was able to redeem my decision to stay home and watch the Yankees. I had been catching solid numbers of schoolie striped bass when I got a heads-up that some larger fish had migrated into my region of Long Island Sound. The only problem was an ominous thunderstorm that was fast approaching the central north shore of Long Island.
Having spent considerable time fishing the beaches of this area, I had a strong, intuitive sense there would be a peak opportunity to target an area that previously yielded many productive outings. Getting to that location, however, would require a bit of a hike in some very nasty weather. I’d made that hike many times, but I didn’t fancy the idea of being on an isolated beach with a 9-foot lighting rod in hand. I observed the edge of the approaching front and simultaneously made a phone call to a friend.
“Hey, I’m on a local beach, and I need your help.”
“What’s up?”
“Check your weather apps and tell me how much time I have before that thunderstorm building in Connecticut reaches me.”
“You got about an hour-and-a-half.”
“OK, thanks. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”
Off I went, double-timing my pace. I knew the tide phase would be perfect, with ideal currents. My decision did not disappoint. Although I landed only three stripers on the fly rod, they ranged from 38½ to 42 inches, with the largest weighing 31 pounds. And while I overstayed my weather window, the lightning only began to crack in the skies as I hopped into my truck.

Learning to read the water is akin to learning a language in which you gain a thorough understanding of the environment. With that understanding, you can visualize what is going on beneath the surface with regard to structure and the resulting movements of water and bait. As you walk the surf line, take cues from the sand. The gradient often holds clues to how the land slopes away once it merges with water. Following sloping terrain often leads to a hole or depression that may hold bait within reach of a cast.
At the Lowest Point
Extreme low tides are the best times to explore and obtain a lay of the land. During spring and fall, striped bass move to and from the surf zone. This creates high-productivity periods, and sloping drop-offs or troughs often attract fish.
When it comes to surf-related structure, be aware of anything out of the ordinary along a stretch of beach or backwater. Even a slight bend or depression in the shoreline can be enough of a difference to alter your fishing outcome. Some of the more classic forms of fish-attracting and holding areas include boulder fields, channels, cuts, docks, piers, sunken barges, boats and rock piles. One of my most productive beach spots is a cluster of large, concrete blocks that fell from a barge in the 1930s. Hardly anyone knows they are there, except for the town historian. Take your fishing wisdom from any and all sources.
I’ve also learned from nature itself. One of my most memorable experiences occurred during an October outing, on the fall run of false albacore. I had been fishing the western reaches of a Long Island beach and was prepared to follow that same pattern on a subsequent trip. My normal routine when approaching a beach is to stand back from the surf line to observe the water conditions before beginning to fish. This tactic confirmed my decision to once again head west. As I began to walk down the beach, a lone seagull flew by, heading east. I turned back to watch the bird and noticed an erratic behavior to its flight that stopped me in my tracks. The gull began diving frenetically to pick harried bait from the surface. Before long, I spotted the first of many albies chasing bay anchovies along the surf line. That seagull knew more than I did. I owed it cheers of gratitude for a wonderful morning of fishing.
Time of day, and how it’s tied to seasons and tidal conditions, will help you find fish. The false dawn period to an hour or so after sunrise and the magic time around dusk and sunset is often productive. The period from about 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. has been a great slot for nocturnal-feeding species. But never neglect to fish during the day if your schedule allows. This is especially relevant during early spring and the fall run. Even high noon can be a great time for catching migrating fish on sand or mud flats.
Enter the Moon
Tides are dependent on the moon. New- and full-moon phases each have their advocates. Some anglers fish religiously for two or three days on either side of a new moon, while others ignore the new moon and concentrate their efforts around the big tides of a full moon. Regardless of preference, each moon phase will have a profound impact on the intensity and productivity of tides and the creation of current.
The keen desire to explore will help you become a better angler. Seeking out productive areas works better than staying in one spot, waiting for the fish to turn on. Venture forth to an unfamiliar stretch of beach or backwater, and you might discover your own slice of seclusion. Many factors go into preparing for a day of fishing, and most come with experience and acquired knowledge from time on the water, making your own discoveries and heeding the wisdom of the tides.