I wrote this for Leslie a few weeks back when she was seeking true-life fog
stories for an On The water article. This incident happened last June.
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My worst fog experience was on my second night out with the new boat, a
brand new shiny Mako 19 center console, GPS and all. I was anchored inside
the jetties at Waquoit, 2 miles up the coast from my inlet at Green Pond
on a clear warm June nite. I was having a blast drifting eels for
24-30" stripers right at the dogleg in Waquoit channel. As evening settled
in I was so intent on the superb fishing that I didn't pay close attention
to the conditions. Anyways I had a bigger boat and it had GPS; why worry?
Only when a boat came in from the sea did I realize that visibility was down
to perhaps a half mile or less.
A few fish later it was completely dark. No stars visible above, no radio
tower reaching above Falmouth Center to the west, no lights from Waquoit to
the north, in fact the 100 yard wide channel was starting to obscure as
the fog rolled in as it does in Vineyard sound in June; in a thick blanket
that reduced visibility to perhaps 20 or 30 yards. This was that wet moist
fog that muffles sound and produces a white cocoon around any light source.
No problem I thought, turn on the GPS, follow the jetties to Waquoit
mouth, use the compass and GPS to head on a 265 degree heading for
2 miles and I'd be at the green buoy off of Green Pond. No problem, no
worry.
So I thought.
Problem 1 - The compass was unreadable without a light. The white light
above the console reflected back against the fog and blinded me in a sea
of white mist. I could not see the jetty rocks 20 yards away with it lit.
Problem 2 - My glasses fogged and misted up when I started to move. I
could not see the compass or GPS without them, nor could I see the
devices with them. Impasse.
Problem 3 - As I idled my way to the jetty mouth and pointed east the GPS
started giving unrealistic readings. Readings like Green Pond being
9999 miles away. The brutal fact of the matter was that I had yet to
understand how to use it in *all* circumstances as opposed to in the
best of circumstances. The GPS was losing track and giving bizarre
readings which I couldn't trust. The next day I spent 2 hr's with
the manual understanding how to read all the setup and satellite tracking
screens so I would know when it was locked on. Of course this crash course
in GPS-ology was done 12 hours after the mid-term exam.
Problem 4 - New boat, new gimbel mounted compass, slow speed. I could
not keep a heading without setting off and trusting the compass. The boats
rocking and the gimbal compass did not behave as steady at a wallow as my old
boats cheap velcro mounted Boy Scout compass. The instant I got out of the
light glow of the beacon at Waquoit mouth I would lose all reference to
where I was. I had to start moving to get a decent compass heading;
however once I moved I would be committed.
Problem 5 - Hugging the coast would not work. The two miles between me and
home had two inlet mouths, three rock groins 100 yards off shore and perhaps
20 stone jetties jutting out from the shore. Hugging the coast was a
recipe for a collision with an immovable object.
The edges of panic were starting to set in; cold sweat, heart pounding,
breathing fast and shallow. I yelled at myself "CALM DOWN! THINK!". I
had now lost the beaconing light at Waquoit mouth. I was lost.
I could start to feel a sense of helplessness and mental paralysis set
in. I needed to act, but I needed to make the right action.
In the white fog I was alone and in trouble. I forced myself to calm down
and to think. I started processing natural clues ignoring the black gremlin
of fear hovering just outside the glow of my running lights.
Lights off, motor off; listen, feel, THINK!
High outgoing tide; south east wind. OK, the tide is carrying me out of
Waquoit and westward, waves are coming from the south east, they are heading
into the coast towards the northwest. One mile to the three disconnected
groins off Eel Pond.
Think, think. I'm west of Waquoit, waves heading south east to
northwest; if I cut inside the wave direction and grab glimpses at the
compass and head due north I can intersect the sandy curve of Washburns
Island east of the groins and east of Eel Pond.
Its high tide just starting to ebb; I can skim the inside of Washburns
Island, and stay inside the dangerous groins as there will be four feet of
water on the flats inside the groins. The groins are at least 100 yards off
the shore. I have plenty of room to stay inside them.
If I can meet Washburns Island in the mile between Waquoit and the groins
the worst that happens is I will ground myself on a steep sand beach.
Having reasoned this out in my mind; I started to carry it out into action.
Engine on, running lights on,throttle up to idle forward, head inside
the wave flow taking them on my right bow. Light on, glimpse the
compass, 350 degrees is good enough, light off, listen and look, nothing.
Idle forward at 5 knots, walking speed, a hundred yards in 30 seconds
at a guess, light on, glimpse at the compass; heading of 60; no good.
Light off, take the seas at a sharper angle; idle for 30 more seconds,
shift into neutral, engine off, listen, listen,listen, nothing.
Light on, heading is due north, great, engine on, idle forward,
count to 30, neutral, light on; whats that outline ahead in the fog.
Spectral bushes reach above the softness of a sand bank; I'm perhaps 20
or 30 yards from the shore. I move inwards to a 20 yard distance and head
west, again at an idle. I have a good view of the beach at this distance,
I can see perhaps 30 yards forward of the bow using only my running lights.
I know the sand bank will change to a clay bluff, perhaps 15 feet high
just before the groins. When I see that bluff the groins are 100 yards
offshore and 100 yards away on the seaside, south of me. Idle, idle, idle,
running the coast at a walking pace, searching for the bluff.
There! I see it; glide past it, using the extra depth of high tide to
continue to hug the coast past the break made by Hurricane Bob in 1992
and over the sand and weed flats in front of Gull Island.
I pick up a glow directly ahead, it brightens to a Coleman lantern
almost directly ahead. In my left forward quadrant a green flash,
indicating the entrance to Eel Pond. I know exactly where I am, and
have two good points of reference visible to help me. I am safe. For
now.
I stop, think. I've run a mile along a sand beach and scared myself
quite well. To go out to sea means to run another mile past Bournes
Pond, past 15 more rock jetties. No thanks.
I idle forwards, find the channel buoy, turn to starboard and enter Eel
Pond. I sweep the boat into a turn, and drift into the yacht club dock.
I tie up, kill the engine. Put a second rope on; check my knots. Take the
key, take the best of the four rods.
And walk a long mile and three quarters home in wet boat shoes.
Suitably chastened, scared, and thankful.
L.
BTW - since that experience I now:
1. carry a headlamp that can be worn on my head and aimed in a
narrow beam.
2. have a glasses case with a chamois cloth inside in the console.
3. Understand my GPS *completely* and am having it remounted
one foot higher so the mushroom is clear of the stainless
rail of the console.
4. Understand and have practiced how to set out on a heading
and hold it at my slowest speed.
5. Have set perhaps 10 GPS waypoints within a 2 mile circle of
my home pond. Have GPS courses set from Waquoit, Falmouth
Harbor and Martha's Vineyard to take me home in smaller
segments.
And the biggest lesson of all - have much more respect for fog
despite all the fancy electronics in the world.