There are few things things stranger than drifting across the water in thick fog. If ever you've craved a 'sense of detachment' this is one method I would recommend. Outside the ship - nothing. Not the misty shape of a tree or a shadowy building. 100% nothing. Well, that's not strictly true.
Visually, sure. You're surrounded by a feast of cotton wool.
Aurally, however, the world has come into its own. Every time the foghorn sounds, the surroundings are revealed in a multitude of echoes - short term returns from the invisible cliffs alongside, long term from the mountains up ahead. In between the booming broadcasts, the plaintive tones of bells, rocking inside the buoys marking the channel, activated by the swell and the wake of the passing ship.
Boom. Ding. Dong. Boom.
900 feet of ship and 3000 souls inch their way towards an unseen anchorage.
You just have to hope nobody pulls the plug on the radar.
4 comments:
This souns truly scary, reminds me of my first time I experienced air turbulances, I almost died from fear rather a plane crashing.
Another reason I don't get on boats...
Not much fun, Hannelie. We had a rough trip back from NZ once. One of the stewards got the co-pilot to come back and explain what was going on to Pixie who had taken on the appearance of chalk.
No boats? Maybe that's wise. We visited the Titanic exhibit in Halifax and they showed the film on board the same day - I like a shipping line with a sense of humour.
This is a case where I actually enjoyed the narrative more than the photograph. Well done.
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