As we steam out of Channel-Port-aux-Basques the fog closes in. As is our habit when underway in limited visibility, John and I between us work the radar and plotter to differentiate between the myriad rocks and a potential fishing boat hidden among them. The fog swirls around us, lightening up sometimes, then closing in again, and the leftover sea from an offshore gale rolls the boat. John’s daughter and son-in-law are sprawled out on the cockpit seats, conked out thanks to anti-seasickness drugs, condensation dripping on them from the rigging. (We sure know how to show the youngsters a good time!)
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