There is something about the fog that appeals to writers- artists- philosophers. I'm not sure what it is. For certain it changes the scene before you. If it's not too thick, as is the case in the above pictures, it can add a bit of mystique to the ordinary. I see the Presbyterian church almost every day. There's nothing outstanding about it that I can see. Perhaps because I'm so familiar with it I don't really pay too much attention when I pass by, but throw in some fog and all of a sudden I see it in a whole new light. The bell in the cupola stands out as well as the cross and trees beside the church. The same with the giant Spruce in the middle picture. It's an impressive tree in any kind of weather, but in the fog it fairly well shouts. "I alone am left of the old growth forest that once grew in the center of town. From my towering heights bald eagles see far out into the bay. On my broad branches the raven and the crow perch, seeking shelter from the storm." Look at the reflection of the sun upon the water; still diffused but probably much more to scale than what we see in the sky. As the day wears on and the weather warms a little or the wind comes up the fog will dissipate, but at least I was able to capture the images before they disappear like an early morning dream. As I've mentioned in previous posts, when I'm on the water I hate to see the fog. Perhaps for the same reason that I love it on the land- nothing looks the same. I can pass by a point or landmark a hundred times but if the fog sets in I feel almost lost. Even with a good radar and GPS it's not the same as being able to look out the window and know where you are. I need that certainty of visual confirmation, and the fog robs me of that. It has seldom been my friend out fishing. One July 4th I was on the outside coast fishing off of Surge Bay for king salmon when the fog set in. I was fishing without a crew hand and was surrounded by boats. I watched in desperation as numerous kings struck my gear, stretching the springs on the tattletales, but I was unable to leave the cabin to go pull the gear because I didn't want to run into anyone; or be run into for that matter. By the time the fog lifted the bite was off.What a surprise! Another time I was almost cut in two by a huge, white cruise ship right in front of Cannery Point. If I hadn't seen it bearing down on me on the radar and thrown the boat into reverse, the Bonnie J would have been reduced to splinters and my lifeless body would have become a tourist attraction. "Oh look Harold, those seagulls are really going to town on that garbage in the water. I thought there was a law against throwing your trash overboard." It's no picnic to be driving a car in either. I recall one time in Ohio driving to work with my head stuck out the window of my "62" VW Bug. That was a real trip. I probably should have had my head examined for owning a "62" Bug to begin with. I must have had fog on the brain when I bought it. I was on a first name basis with the repair shop manager at the dealership. Oh well. Speaking of driving in the fog, I found a quote by well known author
E. L. Doctorow. I like that name, Doctorow. If he was a physician he would be Dr. Doctorow. E. L. is kind of neat too. Anyway, the quote, by E.L. Doctorow. "Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights but you can make the whole trip that way." Thanks for the insight E.L. I'll keep that in mind.