The day turned out better than expected. That isn’t to say I had expected a bad day. After all, I was going sailing. On the grading curve of life, that means the day started out somewhere between “above average” and “irrational exuberance.” Five to ten, which sounds like a sentence for stealing a really nice boat, turned into 10+ (for good behavior) and I was blissed out, notwithstanding the impenetrable fog, and even after we skidded to a stop on a shoal that materialized about the same time as did the smudgy outline of the shore to starboard. I moved to the port side, eased the mainsheet so Bernie could hang on the boom, and with the jib sheet eased, the wind towed us off the mud, past the green marker we saw only when it was 15 to 20 yards away. Using the compass, we sailed back upriver and out of the fog. I have to admit that almost immediately, I missed the fog. Even though it hid the Chesapeake from us, the Bay will be there the next time.