Fog

Castine, on the Bagaduce River, is ghostly this morning, shrouded in fog. Carrie Rose faces East Penobscot Bay in a strong flood tide. The incoming current overcomes the rivers outflow causing the surface of the water to swirl. Boats jockey back and forth on their moorings. Not far from our port bow the red “2” buoy is tilted upstream by the flow. Many aquatic plants pass by along with an occasional log.

The humidity is 100% and the world is white. Carrie Rose is covered in dew. I take advantage of the fresh water to wipe the salt off the deck, rails, and windows. I want to hear a foghorn if for no other reason than to confirm the view in front of me but none sound.

Though the sun is obscured behind the thick haze, it rises and with that so does the hope that the fog will dissipate. When it does, it does so incrementally. The town, where we are, clears first. It is a common mistake to mistake this for a sign to head out only to find that the fog is thicker on the bay.

The fog retreats over several hours and when the mooring line is finally let loose a thin mist barely obscures Turtle Head, Islesboro Island’s northern most point. The wind freshens dispersing the hazy remnants of the fog. The ghost gives up the day to the blue.