As I approached from Redcar the great iron and steel works loomed through the fog, railway sidings criss-crossed the road, and the wild no-mans-land of the Bran Sands seemed an inhospitable wilderness. Gradually the spit of land narrowed until I could just discern the sea on either side – only a few yards away. The South Gare Lighthouse was invisible, but the screaming of fog-sirens grew ever louder as I approached.
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The lighthouse loomed overhead and the deafening noise of the fog-sirens was answered by the booming sirens of passing vessels which loomed up out of the mist and crept away like ghosts in the night. It was all very eerie; visibility was down to 25 yards as pockets of fog skimmed the still waters, and the South Gare remained aloof – marooned in a swirling mist with the sea all around.
Bolton/Revealed
THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT 
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