Two-Foot Tide

Fall is the best fishing of the year down here. That's why this is the week to talk about "Two-Foot Tide."

The water starts cooling and the fish start moving. The boat ramps are suddenly easy again because half the summer traffic has gone home. The guys who fish seriously have been waiting for this all year, and you can see it in the parking lot at dawn. Nobody says much. There's a lot of nodding.

The song is about one of those mornings. It's about the same crew as always and the same spot, and the forecast says the water will be flat as a table. It isn't really about catching anything. The fish are in there, but the song is about the day ahead of you. It's that feeling when you're past the last channel marker and nobody can reach you. For the next eight hours your only job is paying attention to the water.

The bridge is my favorite part. It compares the boat to a church, and I mean that more than I let on. Some of the most peaceful hours I've had were spent staring at a chart plotter while a friend lied to me about a fish.

If you've never been out on a morning like that, find somebody with a boat and a free Saturday. Bring your own snacks. Don't touch the radio.