I love the way the fog unfolds itself over the city; a virtually opaque phantom, cool, damp and persistent on my lips and skin.
jericho4

The fog is a delight for me, pulling a curtain across known entities and making me wonder how much we actually remember and retain about the world around us once our senses have been deprived. Can anyone really say that the world still exists beyond the fog?
Jericho

I visited Jericho Beach for the first time on a Saturday morning of thick, satiny fog. I stood in my sneakers and rain jacket on the piles of driftwood and sand as the ocean and mountains in front of me were slowly revealed. First was the edge of the water with its gentle lapping waves, protruding from the fog in a tumble and then rolling back in under cover. This was followed by the dock extending clearly at first and disappearing into grey the further out it went- I could barely make out the small, solitary house perched precariously at the end of the wooden planks. Visibly the fog continued retreating until I could see a few of the boats anchored and bobbing between the waves a short distance from myself and the shore. The morning light cut jagged shards along the clear water as the fog rose up in a wall, unlike anything I had seen before. It stood in front of the mountains like a sheet a child has hung on the wall for a film projector. As the peaks began to climb higher than the fog, the thick cotton cloud began moving back toward the shore, eventually devouring the boats and the dock that had only been visible to me for a short time, and permeating the area around me until it seemed as if I was alone, save for the fog horns in the distance and the footsteps through the sand of fellow morning fog enthusiasts.
jericho3

As I drove home across the bridge, the entire world was wiped out. Nothing else existed but the car I was in and the parts of the bridge that were directly in front of my headlights. I felt perfectly at peace.
jericho2

What does it say about me that I love this natural phenomenon so much? That I find comfort in a form of low-lying condensation that hides me completely from everyone else and erases (for a time) the world in the way that I knew it? This may seem a little bleak but I think that the sea fog settling over my little island city is the most beautiful, wonderful thing.

BB

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s