The rapidly disappearing bridge behind me
If I were more than an Occasional Naturalist, I would know a little bit more about tides. I’ve probably made 20-25 trips to the ocean over the years, but tides still vex me. I’ve lost most beach towel, clothes, and cooler to an incoming tide in La Jolla, California in the past and today I came back with numb, wet feet after failing to pay attention to a rapidly rising Atlantic Ocean. I walked out 1/2 mile into a bay near Brooklin, Maine. The little spit of land I was walking on seemed high and dry enough. I knew the tide would be coming in soon, but thought I had plenty of time to admire the view, but in a span of 10 minutes I proved myself wrong.
After staring out into the ocean for 5-10 minutes, I turned around and found my little land bridge rapidly disappearing behind me. I stuffed my camera in the backpack and proceeded to try and hop from rock to rock. I made it a few hundred yards but wasn’t fast enough. The next quarter mile was trudging through 55 degree water lapping at my calves.
I’ve since learned a few important things. Of course, tides are connected to the moon. Everyone knows that, but what’s the rhythm?
There’s two high tides and low tides every 25 hours. Tides occur about 50 minutes later each day. High and low tides are roughly six hours apart. Tides are more extreme the further you are away from the equator (which explains my cold wet feet here in Maine). High tides occur when the moon is directly overhead, with the tides lagging somewhat, or on the exact opposite side of the earth. This doesn’t intuitively make sense at first, but its the way it works.
Should I know more than this? As an Occasional Naturalist, yes. But at least now I got the basics and can also (and will in the future!) read a tide chart.