A sinister fog

Yet merrily still they fish, nor reck
Of the piercing cold or the wave-swept deck;
And the warning fog-horn, the bell’s sad tone,
Wakens no thought of knell or moan
In those sturdy fishermen, brave and free,
As they mournfully challenge the fog-veiled sea,
Though there scarce is one but has shed a tear
For comrade or friend who has perished there.

~ C. W. Hall

Clearly Evil.

Dear Sam Shames,

Is all fog sinister? Today it seems to roll across the water like bad news, swallowing up the horizon and the sky and the ocean until everything else is out of sight and out of mind. There’s a subtle threat lingering in the air, as if to say “You’re nothing to me, I’ve eaten up bigger ships than you.”

It’s coinciding with some technical issues we’re having today, too. I’m not necessarily claiming causality I’m just saying it seems pretty unlikely that it would be foggy on the exact day we happen to be having software/hardware issues with HabCam.

The evidence speaks for itself.

We’re heading for Georges Bank, the rich fishing grounds of present-day* and historic New England, well-known for the treacherous fog that settles across it (the excerpt at the beginning of this post is from a late 1800’s poem about Georges Bank). Though sinister and evil and definitely cursing our HabCam, fog is much less dangerous today than it used to be. A quick trip up to the bridge where the captain and mate steer our sturdy vessel and you’ll see why: it is packed with navigational instruments. There are radars, weather forecasts on screens, bathymetric maps, bop-it levers and twisty knobs, and at least 10 different buttons to precisely control the ship’s path.

I forgot to take a picture of the bridge so you’ll have to settle with this not-so-great picture of the bridge, and just trust me on it. I don’t know who that man is. Image from UDelaware Research Magazine.

So although I can’t necessarily see anything further than 50 feet, Captain Sean and the mates bridge are constantly in communication with the ships around us, plotting a course to avoid fishing gear and wrecks and other potential hazards.

Since the fog isn’t putting us in any real danger, maybe I’m being a little hard on it. It did soften the sun’s burning rays into a soft diffuse light, which I greatly appreciate, and it had the same effect on the sea, taming the hull-rocking waves of last week into lazy swells that imperceptibly undulate the ship. Sea-birds seem to fly in and out of existence as they come within our shallow field of view, while their squawks and those of the ship and crew are dulled by the thick gray plume around us.

Fog’s okay.

Love,

Mike

*Definitely not as rich as it used to be but that’s a work in progress