Seven days, almost no visibility, and one of the most memorable voyages of the season. A diary from the bridge wing.
The forecast said fog, and the forecast was right. What it did not say is how beautiful a week of grey could be.
Day one: leaving harbour
We slipped out of Marrow Quay at first light with the foghorn sounding every two minutes. The coast vanished behind us in about ten minutes. Guests gathered at the rail, mostly in silence, watching the shoreline dissolve.
Day two: the island that was not there
Our planned landing on Vesper Island was cancelled for visibility. Instead, the captain eased the ship along the shore at a crawl, and the cliffs appeared and disappeared like a slow film. Seabirds loomed out of the mist, close enough to hear their wingbeats.
Day three: small boats and sound
Fog changes how you listen. In the landing boats, we turned the motors off and drifted through a kelp bed. Every sound carried: water dripping from oars, a seal exhaling somewhere out of sight, a bell buoy marking a channel.
Several guests said they had never felt so far from everything, in the best sense.
Day four: the lift
Late morning, the fog thinned from the top down. A pale sun appeared, then a patch of blue, then the whole of Halden Sound in full colour. The galley team, who had been watching from the pass, cheered quietly into their sleeves.
We took more photographs in those forty minutes than in the rest of the week combined.
Days five to seven
The grey returned, but we were used to it by then. The naturalist ran evening talks on how fog forms along cold coasts, and the guests turned out to be happy to learn about it. On the last night, someone organised a quiet quiz in the lounge with prizes of chocolate.
What the week taught the team
- Plans written in pencil are better than plans written in ink
- Guests will forgive a missing landing if you give them something true to look at
- A good soundscape is as valuable as a good view
Fog is not the weather people book a voyage for. It might be the weather they remember longest.