36-52-2014: In the Fog

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September 6, 2014 – I love the fog.

Yes, it’s a reminder that fall is around the corner and summer is waning, but I still love it.

When I was younger and the fog would settle in where I grew up, I’d get bundled up and walk over to the elementary school yard and stand in the middle of the field. I loved the way the sounds of the world were muffled by the thick blanket of translucence. I loved the sense of isolation and aloneness.

When I moved to Vancouver I discovered a kind of fog I’d not encountered before – advection fog, or sea fog. Growing up fog was either that ephemerous and delicate misty fog that couldn’t withstand the power of the sun when it rose, or it was that thick soup that would settle out over everything as the temperature differential between the rivers flowing through and around town battled with that of the air.

But in Vancouver, the first time I saw fog, I thought there was a fire somewhere close.

I looked out our balcony window and saw a thick white cloud wrapping around the buildings below us, it’s tendrils like fingers creeping through the streets and alleys, flowing. I had never seen fog move before. Where I grew up, a breeze would shatter the fog and send it back to where it came from, fog couldn’t withstand any kind of breeze let alone a light wind.

And I had certainly never encountered fog that blanketed the world below for days and weeks on end, and which a short drive could take you above to look down upon the white pillowy duvet that would cover the entire straight, and which only the tips of the tallest buildings could rise above. Planes would appear from what looked like a thick blanket of snow and glitter as they rose into the sunshine.

Seagulls sound different in the fog, their mournful cries echo less strongly, they are more haunting. Lapping water sounds muted, footsteps are softer.

This past week I was up on the Pitt for work, we were seining and spawning sockeye. Tuesday morning was clear though there were some misty patches out on the marshes as I was driving out to the lake. But Wednesday was full on fog and it slowed us down significantly.

The drive out was dark and gloomy and couldn’t be managed at the normal speed because the few doglegs in the road posed a greater risk when one can’t see them coming. And the fog on the lake made what would have been a quick zip from the dock over to the boat launch to refuel off the truck an extremely slow crawl using the radar to navigate. The trip up to the top of the lake was even slower as there was no dyke to follow, just open water with only a small sphere of vision, radar and charts at the helm.

Another feature of fog is how brilliant it makes the day become when it begins to break and the sunshine finds chinks in its armour. And when one emerges out of natures feather pillow, it can be startling.

Yes, I love fog. Both for its own beauty, and for how much I appreciate the sun when we finally break out of its grip.

Corbold Creek, not a bad place to spend the day working, is it? Stock Assessment came by in their helicopter as they were doing fish counts, and they buzzed us for a bit, but other than that, we caught our target easily and managed to catch up the lost time by pushing through lunch and spawning the fish instead of taking a break.

And the return trip back down the lake was free and clear of fog, a bit of wind at the upper end, flat calm at the bottom.