As the crisp November winds sweep across the Pacific Northwest, the coastal town of Ocean Shores, Washington, transforms into a front-row seat to one of nature's most dramatic spectacles: the king tide. And every year in November, we make a trip to Ocean Shores for a time of spiritual renewal and healing - there's a conference Theron attends, some dear friends we see, and it's an amazing time to unwind and get away for a little pre-holiday reflection.
On this date, November 7, 2025, we're right in the thick of the season's first major surge, with tides peaking at an astonishing 11.0 feet around 1:15 p.m. Imagine the vast, windswept beaches—usually a playground for clam diggers and kite flyers—suddenly swallowed by a relentless wall of water. Waves crash with thunderous force against the North Jetty, sending spray skyward like a geyser, while the horizon churns with foam-flecked fury. For locals and visitors alike, it's a mesmerizing blend of awe and caution, a reminder of the ocean's untamed power. But what exactly is a king tide, and why does it turn this quirky seaside gem into a hotspot for storm-watchers? Let's dive in.
Ocean Shores, perched on the razor-thin spit of land separating Grays Harbor from the open Pacific, is no stranger to the sea's whims. Founded in the late 1800s as a resort town dreamed up by railroad magnate Ralph Minium, it boasts six miles of uninterrupted beach, a historic lighthouse, and a quirky vibe that draws over a million visitors annually. Yet, in winter, the focus shifts from beachcombing to bracing. King tides here aren't just high water; they're a seasonal symphony amplified by the region's unique geography. The wide, shallow continental shelf off Washington's coast acts like a megaphone, funneling and magnifying tidal energy into massive swells. Add stormy weather—common in November—and you get a show that rivals any fireworks display, but with far higher stakes.
The Science Behind the Surge: Unraveling King Tides
At its core, a king tide is nature's gravitational grand finale. Tides themselves are the rhythmic rise and fall of ocean levels, driven primarily by the moon's pull, with the sun playing a supporting role. Every day, two high tides and two low tides sweep across Earth's shores, but they're not created equal. The moon's gravity creates two bulges in the ocean—one toward it and one on the opposite side—while Earth's rotation keeps the dance going.
What elevates a regular high tide to "king" status? Alignment. Twice a month, during new and full moons, the sun, moon, and Earth line up in a cosmic tug-of-war called a spring tide. These already pack a punch, with tidal ranges up to 20% higher than average. But when this coincides with the moon's perigee (its closest approach to Earth, about 226,000 miles away) and Earth's perihelion (its closest orbit to the sun in early January), the gravitational forces supercharge. The result? King tides, or perigean spring tides, that can exceed average highs by one to two feet—or more with wind and storms.
In Washington, these events cluster in winter: typically three series from November to January. For 2025, the calendar reads like a tidal thriller. The opener hit November 5-9, with peaks like today's 11-foot monster in Ocean Shores. Follow-ups crash in December 4-8 and January 3-6, 2026. Unlike the predictable neap tides of summer, these winter beasts are amplified by onshore winds and low-pressure systems, piling water against the shore like a dam bursting.
Locally, Ocean Shores' tides are mixed semidiurnal—two highs and lows daily, but unequal. A typical high might hit 7-8 feet; kings push 10-11 feet, submerging the lower beach and turning the horizon into a cauldron of whitecaps. NOAA's tide predictions, factoring in everything from lunar cycles to atmospheric pressure, make these events forecastable years in advance.
When the Tide Rolls In: Impacts on Ocean Shores and Beyond
The raw power of a king tide in Ocean Shores isn't just photogenic—it's transformative, and not always gently. Start with the immediate drama: waves surging 20 feet high, slamming the North Jetty with enough force to send logs tumbling like matchsticks. During the November 15-17, 2024 event, tides topped 11.1 feet, flooding low-lying spots and turning the beach into a temporary lagoon. Businesses near the waterfront in nearby Westport battened down the hatches as water lapped at doors, while Ocean Shores' streets saw minor inundations around the marina.
Environmentally, these tides reshape the coast. Erosion accelerates, chewing away at dunes and bluffs. In Ocean Shores, chronic bluff retreat—already a headache—worsens as high water undercuts foundations, threatening homes perched too close to the edge. Saltwater intrusion seeps into freshwater aquifers, stressing wetlands that buffer storms and nurture species like the Olympic mudminnow. Bays and estuaries, vital for salmon runs in Grays Harbor, face salinity spikes that disrupt ecosystems. During king tides, logs and debris become projectiles, smothering eelgrass beds and scattering marine life.
Historically, Washington's coast has weathered these surges, but records show notable events. In January 2022, king tides flooded shorelines to impressive highs, while Tacoma and Ocean Shores gauged significant peaks. The 2016 Port Townsend storm-king tide combo nearly kissed doorsteps, a memorable display of nature’s force. Economically, tourism dips temporarily—ironic for a town built on visitors—but rebounds with storm-watchers. Infrastructure strains: roads like Highway 101 close temporarily, and rail lines along the shore face inundation threats.
Yet, amid the chaos, positives emerge. Low tides during kings expose tide pools teeming with anemones, starfish, and crabs—nature's fleeting underwater city. Beaches widen dramatically, unearthing buried treasures for intrepid beachcombers. And for scientists, it's gold: citizen photos document erosion hotspots, feeding models for resilience planning.
Safe Spectacle: Viewing Tips for Ocean Shores' King Tides
The allure is irresistible—park at the North Jetty lot, sip coffee from your car, and watch nature's blockbuster unfold. But safety first: the U.S. Coast Guard's mantra rings true: "Never turn your back on the ocean." Sneaker waves, those rogue surges, claim lives yearly; during kings, they're amplified.
Prime spots in Ocean Shores: The North Jetty offers vehicle-safe viewing of jetty-pounding waves—stay in your car if winds howl. Damon Point, a short drive south, provides elevated dunes for panoramic vistas, but heed "Stay off lower beach" signs during highs. Avoid jetties and driftwood piles—they're slick death traps. Check NOAA's tide charts for Ocean Shores-specific times; apps like MyCoast let you snap and share photos safely, gauging floods against landmarks like pilings or roads.
Dress in layers—November chills to the bone—and pack binoculars. Obey barriers, monitor weather via NWS alerts, and remember: if it feels risky, it is. Pets on leashes; no swimming. For families, the low tide aftermath reveals tide pool wonders—starfish waving like underwater flags—but time it right to avoid getting stranded!
Beyond the Tide: Embracing Ocean Shores' Resilient Spirit
As the sun dips on this November 7 king tide, Ocean Shores exhales. The water recedes, leaving behind sculpted sands and stories etched in foam. This town, with its resilient heartbeat, turns spectacle into celebration: festivals like the Razor Clam Festival pivot to storm-watching weekends, drawing visitors who appreciate the raw power of the Pacific.
King tides remind us: the ocean isn't conquered; it's respected. By observing safely, documenting changes, and preparing wisely, we honor this dynamic coastline. So, next surge—December's on deck—grab your rain gear, not your hubris. Head to Ocean Shores, witness the wild, and whisper thanks to the tides that both challenge and captivate.