Sea Fret

Sea Fret

An essay on the fog that swallows the east coast each spring — and what it hides, and what it reveals....

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A creel boat lying to the quay wall at dusk, wheelhouse lit, nobody aboard. CR
Blue Boat, Blue Hour
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
Ground chain over a painted gunwale, every link scaled with salt. CR
Chain and Gunwale
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
The pleasure pier shuttered for winter, the far end lost before the halfway lamp. CR
The Pier, Closed
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
Charts, ink and a stopped clock in the pilot house window.
The Pilot's Desk
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
The fairway marker standing off the quay with nothing behind it but haar. CR
Fairway Cone
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
The cold-store door left ajar, ice trodden across the yard, blue crates stacked to the wall. CR
Cold Store
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
A line of figures on the wall gone half to fog, the sea somewhere past them. CR
Haar on the Harbour Wall
Fenella Strang / Haar & Harbour
The breakwater chain running out until the fog takes it. CR
Chain to the Sea
Hebe Cranston / Salt Register
Valley fog pooled in the low pasture, fence posts adrift. CR
Mist in the Ing
Dora Whitfield / Hare Light
East and west piers framing the harbour mouth in fog. CR
Twin Piers
Callum Reid / Pier & Parapet
Almost the whole frame is fog; the subject is the absence.
Negative Space
Ingrid Sørensen / Pale North
River fog rolling up Bride Lane as the last edition thunders through. CR
Fog over the Presses
Arthur Penhale / The Fleet Street Archive
The wedding-cake spire of the printers' church half-lost in a November fret. CR
St Bride's Through the Fog
Arthur Penhale / The Fleet Street Archive
Harbour mouth disappearing into sea fret, bell sounding every thirty seconds. CR
Fog Bell
Mara Ellison / Harbour Light Studio

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