2007 Rolls In With The Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on

Carl Sandburg's poem is usually running through my head anytime I'm in the fog. Just as with snow, fog makes everything seem new and different. I especially like the way it insulates from noise. After Tennessee lost to Penn State today, I needed to console myself with some time on the water. I felt more confident after my last excursion in the fog. I had to navigate by GPS the entire time. I was sure to pay attention to my compass headings just in case my instruments failed. The water was very quiet and still. I was happy when Sandy Point Lighthouse showed up just where I was hoping it would be. I turned off the engine and just sat for a while listening to the whiteness.

I received some good advice from one of the charter boat captains about crossing the shipping channel in the fog. He said to hail any traffic near my crossing point on VHF Channel 13 which is the one the commercial ships use. It made me feel a little better about it, but it's still seems scary! I never saw any ships today, but I felt a lot of big waves so I know they were out there. There were still plenty of fish to be caught at the bridge, so despite the Vols poor showing, the day turned out pretty good. -S

Fishing in the Fog

I left the dock today at 1:30 under clear, sunny skies. When I reached the Bay there was a thick fog bank beginning just upstream from the Bay Bridge. I plunged ahead since I've learned to navigate by GPS and compass. The problem was that I had to cross the shipping channel to reach my favorite fishing spot at the east rockpile of the bridge. Visibility at water level was about 20 yards at best. This was the first time since I've been navigating the Chesapeake that I've wished for an onboard radar. My GPS is accurate within a few feet, so it wasn't too difficult to stay just west of the channel until I reached the bridge. I slowed to an idle and waited a while, straining to see into the dense gray. That seemed futile so I turned off the motor and listened. I don't think I could've heard a ship because of the bridge traffic, but they usually sound their fog horns when approaching the bridge. I didn't hear anything, so I dashed across. The current was really ripping and as I expected, the rockfish were biting again at the rockpile. I landed at least twenty 12-15"
fish as the fog burned away into bright sunshine. -Shawn