Riding Out the Shift: From October’s High Tides to the Promise of Cold Fronts

Every season on the Texas coast tells its own story, and October’s chapter this year was a bit of a strange one. We usually expect fall to bring that slow, reliable shift. The tides ease back, the air cools, and the bays settle into their winter rhythm. But this October had a mind of its own. High tides hung around longer than they should have, and the weather stayed warmer and steadier than most years. It wasn’t bad fishing by any means. Just one of those months that kept you guessing.

When the conditions lined up, especially out on the beachfront, we saw some incredible days chasing big tarpon. Those silver kings gave us everything we could ask for – long runs, acrobatics, and the kind of surface explosions that remind you why you put in the hours waiting for the right window. But those opportunities were selective. One day you’d find clean water and bait pushing, the next day it was blown out or too murky to make it worth the run. Still, it was magic when it clicked. The days that make tarpon fishing special, when the Gulf surprises you with just enough calm to roll the dice.

Back in the bays, things told a different story. You could wake up to what looked like the perfect setup, light wind, clear water, bait flickering along the grass lines and still end up scratching your head by midmorning. Consistently high tides have a way of spreading everything out. Reds that are normally grouped up and feeding hard seemed to vanish into the marsh. With so much water in the system, they didn’t have to stay bunched in predictable pockets or tight to drains. They could roam…and they did. One day they’d be on a flat you know like the back of your hand and the next day you would swear they packed up and changed zip codes. That’s fishing, but this October seemed to lean into that zone of unpredictability more than usual.

Now, with the first cool fronts on the horizon, I think a lot of us are ready for the change. Cooler air, shifting tides, and those low, crisp mornings when you can almost smell the redfish before you see them. Once those temperatures start to drop and the tides pull back, everything tightens up. Reds begin bunching together, moving along shorelines or stacking in potholes. You’ll find them brushing up in shallow water, warming themselves in the sun between feeding runs. It’s a rhythm I never get tired of, seeing those copper backs sliding across a glassy flat with a light north breeze at your back.

November and December bring a kind of comfort fishing that’s different from the chaos of summer. You can slow things down, pick your shots, and focus on the details. Each cast feels more deliberate. The fish are heavier, lazier, but just as aggressive when they commit. You can wade into a knee-deep shoreline at sunrise and know that somewhere nearby, a school of reds is doing the same thing searching for warmth, food, and a little comfort of their own.

Looking back, October might’ve been a month of mixed emotions, but that’s part of what keeps the saltwater game interesting. You learn to roll with it. You take the great days like those beachside tarpon mornings and bay flats full of promise, and you accept the slow ones for what they teach you. Every tide, every shift, and every cast adds another layer to understanding this coast.

So, here’s to the coming fronts, to those glass-calm mornings that follow a strong north wind, and to watching reds bunch tight and feed hard again. The patterns will reset, the fish will regroup, and the Texas bays will start telling a new story. And if October taught us anything, it’s that even when the tides don’t play by the rules, there’s always beauty and a few surprises waiting somewhere out there on the water.