Life Tied to the Tide

I’ve been on the water all my life. Born and raised on the Atlantic coast, I’m the fifth generation in my family to fish these waters, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. The ocean isn’t just scenery—it’s a part of me. It sets the rhythm of my day, humbles me, and reminds me I’m small in a big world.

Mornings are the best. Even before the sun comes up, the harbor is quiet. The water stretches out in gray and blue, and the air smells like salt and possibility. I check my traps, the rhythm of it so familiar it’s like breathing. Some days the tide is calm, the sky soft; other days, the wind blows so hard it feels like it’ll tip the boat over. But that’s just the way it is, and you learn to work with it, not fight it.

I love this work because it connects me to my family. My grandfather showed me how to bait traps when I was little, my dad taught me how to read the water, and now I teach my kids the same things. It’s more than a job—it’s a way to pass down everything I know, to keep this life alive for the next generation.

It’s hard work, sure. Cold mornings, long hours, storms that come out of nowhere. Some days the traps are empty. But even on those tough days, I feel lucky. Lucky for the water that feeds us, for the little town that supports us, for the quiet satisfaction of a good haul.

I love the simple things most of all. Walking the same shoreline, stopping at the same café, sitting by the window and watching the weather change. These routines might sound small, but they’re grounding. I’ve learned to slow down, enjoy what I have, and not rush. Life is better when you focus on the essentials—good clothes, a warm kitchen, food that fills you up, and time with people who matter.

Some folks leave for the city, but I can’t. The coast is in my blood. It’s the cliffs, the islands, the wide-open sky, and the smell of salt in the morning. It’s patience, endurance, and respect for what the world gives you. I fish because I love it. I live here because I belong. And at the end of the day, when the boat rocks gently in the harbor and the sun sinks low, I know I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.