Surrounded by heavy fog

I head out for a morning run around 9 am and can barely see a fishing boat anchored in the harbour. The air is filled with heavy fog.

It’s surprisingly beautiful. I feel the mist on my cheeks. The beach looks like a totally different place.

You can’t see any of the ferries coming in and out of the Calais port but every once and a while a horn will sound off to alert other boats of its presence.

I see a few people walking along the beach, otherwise, it’s a quiet morning.

I decide to bring the kids back to the beach so they can notice how different it feels when we’re surrounded by heavy fog. They bring their shovels and buckets so they can dig around in the sand.

I tell them to listen carefully. They hear the ferry blow its fog horn before it appears through the mist.

We notice three people digging diligently in the sand, filling their buckets with something mysterious.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fais?” I ask.

They are finding wiggly worms that pêcheur will use as bait.

I decide to take off my shoes to feel the wet, cold, sand under my feet. I walk closer to the water until the waves splash gently over my toes. It feels like an ice bath so I don’t stand there very long.

The kids dig for treasure and get squeamish every time they think they find something alive.

We turn home and the fog starts to lift.