It’s a word I borrowed from my buddy Neal, a perfect description of the month following July on Puget Sound. Most days, the fog burns off quickly, leaving warm, bluebird afternoons…but it’s a sure sign the season is changing. When I put the boat in the water this morning, all I could see was endless, hazy white in every direction. I almost bailed, but figured I could fish along the shoreline of a small cove and stay safely out of the shipping lanes. It was spooky fishing without any visual cues and ears straining to hear oncoming boats. I would like to say I used some kind of ancient navigation technique, or some innate sense of direction, but the fact is, I fished by GPS for four hours before the fog lifted enough to snap this photo.

It was a great morning, though. Saw some friends on the water, put a couple nice fish in the box and enjoyed the quiet isolation and glass-calm water. Made it home in time for a quick lunch and spent the afternoon at the farm getting ready to re-open tomorrow. Beat tonight, but it’s August; king salmon are here, blueberries are ripening, work’s piling up…better set the alarm for an hour earlier tomorrow.


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