But the patches of fog got more dense, the wind died out, and everything unfolded like a nightmare in slow motion. We had the radar reflector hoisted. I guess the dew forming on the sails helped a bit, too.
We could hear the deep coarse sounds of distant fog horns. This was serious ships. Our little canister just gave a muted fart. Nina shook it up a bit and that seemed to help, but still, this game would have to be settled on the radar. And we had none.
We got contact with a stationary supply ship over the VHF. They could see us, but we couldn’t see anything. The captain said we were heading straight at them. He then came up with a surprise solution; he would move.
The picture is not as dramatic as it seems. It’s not from the North Sea, but from the channel outside Mobile, Alabama, the ship had reduced speed and a predictable course. But the dark grey wall appeared less than a hundred meter in front of us.
Radar is out of the question for our engineless little boat, but we’re considering AIS, after a slow bickering back and forth. We’re all taking our chances in life. But of course, the worst fog stories never get told.