Fog can do funny things. Especially at sea. It can disorient sailors. It can obscure icebergs fifty meters tall. It can be illuminating.
We were at anchor off of Gourdin Island, a small rocky outpost at the northernmost fringes of the Antarctic Peninsula. An area exposed to the Southern Ocean and all her stormy moods. Her swells and wind waves, her confused seas, her ice. The early morning fog was heavy, blanketing us and everything around us with a dense layer of gray and a dull glow in the direction of the sun.