Last night I went for a run along the coast. It was misty in the lowlands, but as I got up to maybe 500 ft. elevation, there was a thick fog. Pretty soon I could only see 10' in front of me on the fire trail road. There was a chorus of fog horns, all different notes. It was like moving through the clouds, like a fuzzy-edged cocoon of light from my headlamp. An hour later, back down to sea level and the pub, a pint of Anchor Steam porter, warmth and good fellowship on a misty night.