On Sunday, the Club left Lymington in thick fog and eerie calm, crossing the Solent with visibility down to a cable or less, we passed a couple of ghostly drifting yachts, but thought the sea empty apart from the Needles foghorn and the IOW ferries' regular blasts well East of us. However, once across, an easterly breeze swept the fog away revealing a vast armada of motorboats and yachts, bearing down abreast across the entire width of the Solent, just keeping clear of the fog. If it had cleared 10 minutes earlier we would have been rabbits on the motorway.
The mist added a dramatic quality , the cliffs could have been 1000m high.
Fog still swirled around,
as the Club ended the Needles play session with a fast 'follow-my-leader',