Fog has been the bane of the mariner since time immemorial and, although technology has made life easier, it still presents a challenge to the unwary sailor
Fog’s not what it used to be. Time was when our whereabouts was down to an ‘analogue’ estimated position, and any poor masher who hadn’t kept the dead reckoning (DR) up to date was left blundering around in confusion. We know where we are today thanks to GPS, and AIS tells us about any ship over 300 tons heading our way with malice intent. We still have to dodge small fishing craft, yachts, navigation buoys and a hundred-and-one further hazards not declaring themselves electronically, but most will be spotted by radar if we have it. The result of this progress in the space of a single generation is that, when we see a bank of fog coming our way, nobody need clutch the coaming with white knuckles wondering what to do next.
Fog is still horrible of course. Nothing is going to change that.
It remains an elemental thing that injects a crawling unease into our innermost soul. It bypasses education, intellect and rational persona, but today we can hang onto our plotters like toddlers chewing their mothers’ apron strings. So long as the screen stays bright and we keep a good lookout just in case, all is generally well, but the primeval fear is still there when you can’t see the poor wretch emptying his lungs into an old horn 50yds away.
Navigating in fog without any modern aids had an illuminating effect on one’s self-knowledge. Instead of handing over responsibility to a computer screen, we had to fall back on our training and keep a grip to avoid the natural tendency to panic. Landfalls were the crunch. There was a parallel here with pre-electronic ocean crossings. The thrill of seeing your dream island pop up as expected after weeks of sun and star sights has been stripped away by the certainty of GPS. Similarly, when a headland materialised out of the murk after 60 miles in the surging tides of the English Channel, deciphering its features and concluding that it was the right one was something special. If it wasn’t, of course, the character-building began. As you tried to work out a plan for what to do next, you might find yourself running out of room and blowing down onto an unknown lee shore, which concentrated the mind wonderfully.
This sort of thing was often the reality for most of the time. If your luck was in, however, you might find a safe depth contour to guide you to a secure port of refuge
