Fog cut the visibility on Friday morning in Cambridge, Maryland, to less than 100 yards. I turned on Robin's radar and headed out of the slip on the Choptank River at 7:30 a.m. -- ninety minutes later than I had planned. A thickness brought on by Thanksgiving dinner had kept Monica and me in our bunks until after the early light. She now drove north toward home and I steered Robin out of the marina and into even more dense fog.
A sailor who relies on an engine and the electricity it generates pays for his lack of purity. This morning, the forces of nature that collect this toll struck first when I pushed the button to activate the autopilot. A message appeared on the screen: "No Pilot."
I put the engine in neutral and went below for some WD-40, which I sprayed into the autopilot connector on the side of the cockpit. But after I'd plugged the autopilot cord back into its receptacle, the message was unchanged. I'd have to steer by hand.
I grabbed an air horn from the cabin top under the dodger to signal my presence to anyone out there. When I pushed the button on top, air hissed but there was no horn sound. Assuming the can had lost pressure, I went below and retrieved two spare cans I'd bought at the West Marine store. But I found that those cans wouldn't screw onto the horn, hard as I tried.
Stepping below once more, I got the brass bell from the same compartment where I stored the air cans and, topsides again, I slid its arm into the bracket that would hold close to my reach.
With Robin back in gear, I followed the chartplotter and the compass, keeping an eye on the radar, and motored slowly to the west, toward the Chesapeake Bay, clanging the bell every minute or so.
In a few minutes, I saw the gauzy image of a small crab boat off to port. One of the two men working on board returned my wave.
I was on high alert, concerned that someone in a small boat might be out there fishing or crabbing. I imagned seeing them just ahead. I performed a mental drill of my reaction to such a situation -- slow the engine to a crawl, steer sharply to starboard or port.
The sun was bright on the top of the fog bank, and it clearly was a nice day that had dawned. But the fog lasted for a full hour, until I was past the Tred Avon River and Oxford. Then, within about ten minutes, the fog disolved and I could see in the distance Tilghman Island, where I would pass under the draw bridge at Knapp's Narrows.
There was no wind on the Choptank and no need to raise the sails. Weeks earlier, I'd taken down the Genoa in preparation for Hurricane Sandy. I'd had trouble raising the sail after the storm, so it was now an unruly ball of Dacron, stuffed betweem the port settee and the saloon table. But if I needed them, I had the staysail and the mainsail available.
Passing through the Knapp's Narrows bridge, I exchanged greetings with the bridge tender and he remarked on what a good boat Robin was. Five minutes later, we turned north in the Poplar Island Channel and found a slight breeze on the port beam. I went forward and raised the main and then the staysail, and Robin made good speed with the current of the rising tide.
Past Bloody Point, the southern tip of Kent Island, we encountered a thickening fleet of small fishing boats, each one trolling for striped bass. The wind slowly built as we steered around the fishermen and women, heading toward Annapolis and the half-dozen container ships, tankers and bulk cargo ships on anchor there. Some were floating high, awaiting cargo, while others were settled to their water lines.
My destination was Mill Creek off of Whitehall Bay. I'd hoped to meet up with Ed Darwin, in whose boatyard Robin stayed for three years while I was working in Annapolis. Ed was home in Baltimore for the holiday weekend, though, so instead of going into Martin's Cove and his dock, I dropped Robin's anchor in the well-protected  creek at about 1:30 p.m. and enjoyed an afternoon of reading and boat-watching.

This boat glided prettily down Mill Creek toward Robin, whose bow faced into the breeze. Then she passed us and we saw under what handicap she moved.