The Tide Tables for My Week
Out front, the real tides run on a schedule you can print. Highs, lows, the exact minute the water turns. I keep a copy on the fridge. I wish my body came with one. It doesn't, but after enough years I've charted my own, and it reads a lot like the one for the bay.
Tides unposted. Read the water when you wake up.
Tides unposted. Plan from there.
Times are estimates. The water has the final say.
Monday — High tide, late morning. A good window, if a short one. The water of energy comes in around ten and holds until early afternoon. Schedule the important things here. Do not trust it past two.
Tuesday — Low all day. The recovery from Monday's window. Flats and shallows. Nothing big launches today. Today is for staying in the harbor and letting the water come back on its own.
Wednesday — Mixed, unsettled. Could go either way. The published times are estimates only. Keep plans loose and movable, and watch the early signs before committing to anything that requires both legs and a clear head.
Thursday — Slack water. That flat, in-between stretch where nothing is rising or falling and I drift. Not bad, not good. A holding pattern. Useful for small, quiet tasks that don't need a current behind them.
Friday — High tide, but a sneaker-wave warning. Energy comes in, which is the trap, because a good Friday tempts me to spend like the weekend is funded. It is not. Enjoy the window. Respect the warning. The wave you don't see is the one that takes you off your feet.
Weekend — Tides unposted. The committee declined to publish. I'll read the water when I wake up and plan from there.
A note on the tables, the same note the real ones carry: these times are estimates. The water has the final say. I plan the good things for the high windows and keep the low hours clear, and when the tide comes in off-schedule, as it does, I move with it instead of standing where the water used to be.