FOG, THE GREAT STRESS RELIEVER
This week, The Nantucket Independent

continues a summer series entitled

Night Hikes. This series will help you

to discover the island's natural world as the light of day fades into nighttime.

At dusk, while some Nantucket critters

bed down for the evening, the night shift of birds, reptiles, amphibians, animals,

fish and insects emerge, looking for food, love and vocal chord exercise.

Stars come out, planets glow and sparkle and as the air cools, a whole

new world opens up.

Less destination-oriented and much

more of a what's-out-there guide, we will also share with you what there is to

see, hear and feel out in Nantucket's

harbors, saltmarshes and ponds. Blown off course, I saw only a great egret through the mist of dense fog that was dancing across the western lobe of Polpis Harbor.

I pretty much knew where I was because I'd been out on this body of water scores of times, but it was a little unnerving to be out of sight of land, even if that land was just a few hundred feet away.

PHOTOS BY PETER B. BRACE/The Independent Shortly after the fog got too thick to see the sun, the photographer ran aground, having to extricate himself from the sandbar by pulling himself along with his hands so he could paddle blindly through the soupy mist back into the harbor.

But then, I purposefully went out there last Tuesday night for those conditions to assuage the stress of deadline day. Next to being out in the moors or in the swamps from dusk into the dark of night, paddling my kayak in Polpis Harbor on a foggy night is one of the more relaxing things I do on Nantucket.

I got out to the second landing at Polpis Harbor at around 7:30 p.m. The fog had already spread across the island from Madaket east to the edge of the harbor while fingers of the salt-laden mist were threatening to cover the setting sun over Coatue. The water was flat calm and the humid, balmy air now cooler with the wandering fog.

Ahhhhh…just right.

With the tide still draining, I paddled leisurely through the moored boats, rounded the first point of salt marsh and let the current carry me out through the channel and into flats in front of Medouie Creek and the sandbar protecting Polpis Harbor. By then, there was enough fog for me to look at the now pinkish-orange sun without my sunglasses, a sign that I should turn around and paddle back toward the channel before the fog got too thick.

Still, there's a calm that comes over me out there when visibility is at its lowest. Hear the moan of the fog horn at Brant Point and seconds later the one at the end of the east jetty, the low gurgle of the few boat engines now working their way back to shore; feel the heavy wet blanket of moisture on your skin and see gulls weaving in and out of the floating tendrils of vapor; scary to some but heaven to me. Also, fog tends to discourage power and sailboat activity in such shallow waters, giving us kayakers that much more solitude.

Just in time, I turn around and find the channel, paddling against the current and over to the east shore just inside Polpis Harbor as if grabbing for a railing on the ferry in stormy seas.

When paddling in fog for whatever reason, it's important to have a landmark you're familiar with so you can paddle there if you lose your bearings. From the east shore, I head up into the western section of the harbor, keeping the new bulkhead to my right.

Installed last winter to prevent the sand's flowing into the harbor on incoming tides from filling in the channel, it's wise to paddle to the south of it, as its north side is too shallow even for kayaks and often exposed with a sandbar at low tide.

Paddling up into this salt marsh paradise toward the west shore is where I got a little lost. A light breeze blew me farther east than I wanted to be, but I eventually found the cord grass and mud of the salt marsh and began paddling south along it. By then, it had become dark enough to see fireflies in the forest of Masquetuck and the water end of Quaise Pasture, their lights illuminating patches of fog much larger than themselves. I could hear catbirds talking their catbird talk in the forest along with rufous-sided towees.

Every so often, I happened upon a black-crowned night heron, a stocky, short heron with yellow legs and feet with a grey belly, red eyes, and a black head and back.

When startled, herons typically fly off, calling "quok…quok…quok," which may also sound like "quark…quark…quark." I think I saw five or six that night. They roost in the salt marsh or trees near it during the day, but come out at dusk to hunt for fish in the shallows.

Reaching the top of this section of the harbor, I paddled back down and let the light breeze push me over to the southeast shore, farther down to the bulkhead and around Swain's Neck. And now, here in the lee of the land, the water is glassy calm and the fog, lifted enough to see some of the boats in the harbor, I reach the equilibrium I lose every Tuesday.

Not a breath of wind on the water; it is just light enough to get the sense of floating in space with the fog mirroring the water and no way to discern fog from water. If I sit motionless in my kayak and arch backward, I can just glimpse a few stars through holes in the fog.

At any other time without the fog, you're just paddling among moored boats, seeing land and everything on it: stars, sunset; whatever is in view. There's almost too much to look at. It takes the fog to dull your senses down to just a few sounds, with just enough land and boats in sight to tell where you're going.

For me, that's nirvana.

HOW TO GET THERE

Find this state of physical feng shui by getting your kayak out to Polpis Harbor at dusk when the fog is threatening. The first landing is marked by a sign reading "Polpis Harbor Road" where Wauwinet Road joins Polpis Road. The second is on the north side of Wauwinet

Road opposite 19 Wauwinet Road. I

NIGHTWANDERINGS 101

Before venturing out into the night, it's a good idea to heed basic safety and personal comfort advice.

Bring a good flashlight and a compass and/or GPS (global positioning system) unit that are easy to carry if you get butterflies when the sun goes down. Maps of the island properties owned by the Nantucket Islands Land Bank and Nantucket Conservation Foundation will aid your wanderings, as will a copy of my book, "Walking Nantucket."

Choose a bug repellent that works for you, and lather up before you head out. Pay particular attention to your legs, ankles and booted feet. While it is the biting, winged bugs you want to fend off because of their immediate itchy sting, by far the most critical defense should be against deer ticks that carry Lyme disease, Babesiosis and Ehrlichiosis.

If you can, stuff your pants into your socks - although that may not be practical in warmer weather - and apply repellent. If you wear shorts, the more repellent the better, on your legs and ankles. And when you get home, check your body for ticks.

When paddling at dusk and into the early evening, have a loud whistle and strobe light attached to your life preserver. Turn the strobe on after the light fades or during foggy conditions. Be sure to tell someone where you are going and when you plan to return.

Take plenty of water and snacks. Always bring all trash back with you, and any that you care to pick up along the way.

- Peter B. Brace