YACK on: Fog
Grant

Sanders


Aluscious fog has overtaken the island in the

early days of this week leaving the old gray lady to remember where her nickname came from. I just love the fog for so many reasons.

For one, it’s like getting a free 24-hour moisturizing

facial. There are a few

places on this island that charge

$100 plus tip to provide the same beneficial pore-opening effects of a good stroll through the fog. Couple that with a good scrub using two handfuls of wet beach sand and you’ve got a good exfoliant, too. There. I just saved you $175. You owe me.

Another reason to love the fog is that it keeps your $83-asquare foot-per-year perfect lawn on Baxter Road in ‘Sconset moist and green even if some poor schmo from the ’Sconset Water Commission has had to sneak into your yard at 2 a.m. and turn off your irrigation system because you were ignoring the water ban. Or in my case, it keeps the 17 native species of weeds in my lawn — including buttercups, moss and some strange yellow-green creeping stuff — looking all glisteny and nice.

(I dare anyone to find a single blade of actual grass in my front lawn. Let’s have a contest.)

The fog also allows me to swim in relative privacy, which is a good thing given my hulking frame. Most people eschew the beaches when it’s foggy. And even if there are a few ardent beach strollers, the visibility is cut down to 100 feet or so. Last night, I drove to one of my favorite beaches – just me and my puppy, Seven (he’s eleven weeks old and has a white “7” chest marking, hence the name). I followed the directions on the highly visible signs and put him on a leash (I did not, however, hold onto the other end — the sign did not say I had to) and we climbed up one side of the dune and down the other to a beach that was nearly empty, except for two ghostlike people and a small phantom dog off in the distance. Seven and I were able to swim in relative privacy. I know this because unlike the sunny days when I go swimming, Edie Ray and the Marine Mammal Stranding Team were not notified.

The water and the air were almost the same temperature as I quietly slid under the surface. Almost. The differential is what makes the fog possible. Nantucket fog in the summer is, from what little I know about meteorology, known as “advection fog.” Advection refers to fog that forms when light winds move warm, moist air over a cooler surface – in this case, the ocean, which is colder than usual this time of year, no doubt because President Bush is ignoring the Kyoto Accord and the polar ice caps are melting.

The cold ocean cools the warmer air and lowers it to its dew point. Condensation occurs, resulting in the formation of, bingo, fog.

In the winter, we have another kind of fog known as sea smoke, which occurs when the above conditions are reversed: warm ocean water vapor rises and condenses amid still arctic air. It’s pretty eerie. We also get our share of fog that results from large pounding waves on the south shore sending salty mist up into the air (which is “fun” if you wear glasses). In fact, if you think of it, the conditions on Nantucket are so ideal for fog in all of its forms, it’s a wonder we ever see the sun at all. I can tell you, there was a stretch in May when I completely forgot the thing existed. I had to ask a tourist what that large yellow ball in the sky was.

Another example of why I love the fog occurs on those mornings when I wake early and put on a jacket and tie to go meet a client in any number of godforsaken suburban office parks on the mainland. My heart quickens as I leave my driveway on the way to the airport because only then do I move clear of the thick trees surrounding our house and see the extent of the island’s cool, white blanket.

Turning off of Fairgrounds Road onto Old South Road I can gauge visibility relatively easily. If the wind is light and out of the south, it’s likely that the closer I get to the airport, the foggier it becomes. As I park my slightly dented and scratched Ford Explorer in the airport parking lot, and I walk into the airport, seeing all of the travelers with furrowed brows and sulking frowns, I hear those seven little words that warm my heart: “Sorry, the airport’s closed because of fog.”

I phone my clients on the drive home, leaving a message on their voicemail (it’s far too early for them to be in the office, of course) telling them we will have to make do with a conference call. In five minutes, the tie is on the tie rack, my dress shoes are on the bedroom floor and my flip flops are back on my feet. Thank fog.

YACK on.

Grant Sanders is the host of YACK, the Nantucket Online Community at www.yackon.com. It’s the perfect place to go on a foggy evening. Besides the beach.

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