I was steaming home from parts East and knew there were a number of dories anchored up in this cove by a fisherman staking out – guarding - his claim in the event that a school of fish might enter. In that event, he has rights to the fish that can be trapped by setting the nets stored in the dories, to be subsequently landed as lobster bait or, sometimes, as food.

Not particularly wanting to face institutional responsibilities ashore, I conjured up the notion that with the falling tide, I could take RAVEN in between the two strings of dories and let her settle down into the cove’s soft mud bottom. My idea was to hide away in the fog, get myself stuck and make photographs for what I figured would be four or five hours during which I would be unable to move the boat.

In the rear view mirror of better judgment, I acknowledge that a number of things could have gone wrong with this gambit, however, nothing untoward happened and Guardians is the result.

Those were very special hours, when not a soul in the world knew where I was and the dories slowly - ever so slowly - swirled and eddied around me in the soft, silvery and secret world we shared that day.