Dalcahue dock life

I’ve been posting myself on the Dalcahue dock, speaking with every boat that ties up. So far, I´ve had lots of friendly encounters, have made a couple friends, and have only one enemy- the sun- which is determined to turn me into a sentolla (king crab). Dalcahue is located on the eastern shore of Isla Chiloe, looking out towards the Golfo de Ancud, which is thick with islands big and small. Most of the boats are moored in the protected channel between town and the nearest satelite island (Isla Quinchao), but they tie up to the dock to take on supplies or to offload.

There are boats here ranging from 20 to 60 feet, painted every imaginable color, and every craft is wooden. Most are set up with living quarters in the forepeak, a fish hold midship, an aft cabin, and small covered deck in the stern. From what I’ve gathered, all of these boats fish within the gulf (of Ancud), and they take trips ranking from five to 15 days in order to fill their holds while still being able to keep ice and thus preserve their catch. Boats are rigged as longliners, gillnetters, and boats loaded with small pyramid-shaped crab pots. Other are tenders set to transport fish, or boats which service the mariculture farms all around. As a great alternative to buoys, here they use big chunks of white styrofoam. I’ve seen Argentine hake ande eel offloaded, and this morning a boat delivered around seven tons of haiva (dungeness crab). I’ve seen a few incidental king crab and manta ray, which are also directly targeted here at times. Sea lions (here called lobo del mar, sea wolf) and dolphins pass by from time to time.

More than any other offload, the smaller boats have been delivering the strangest fish I’ve ever seen. It has large pectoral fins, a tail similar to a thresher shark, an iridescent body, and a probiscus scout that might be best described as a trumpet! A wild-looking fish, known here as pejegallo. As best I can tell, it´s known in the english-speaking world as elephantfish, is apparently exported to Japan, and looks like something that would live only in deep ocean trenches.

All of the fishermen I’ve spoken with have been very patient with this gringo. I’m sure it´s hard enough for one of these guys to understand a foreign accent and limited vocabulary. Add to that a guy who speaks especially slow and with halted speech in his native tongue, and now you’ve got a real challenge! After hearing me out, most of the fishermen have either told me that they’re just getting in from a trip and are about to rest for a few days, or that they simply don’t have any extra sleeping space whatsoever. This is undoubtedly true.

I did have one offer to go gillnetting for the eerie elephantfish, and I was told to meet at the dock at midnight for a five day trip. Unfortunately, midnight came and went and the boat never showed- perhaps they hended to leave early. There I was, walking the dock at one in the morning, no plans for where to spend the night (not uncommon for the evening, but uncommon for this late). Luckily I’d made good friends with Alexandro, the harbor securty guard, and he kindly offered to let me sleep on his floor when his shift finished. The offer was especially generous for a man who was about to finish up an eight-hour shift which earned him a meager $10- about enough for two decent meals here- and I gratefully accepted. We continued with our two-way language lessons as we walked towards his house.

Describing a place as being at a cultural crossroads must be a journalistic cliche, but since I’m no journalist I think I can get away with it. Here you see fishermen rowing ancient dories out to their moorings, but I’ve been questioned continuously about La Pesca Mortal (The Deadliest Catch). The town was without power yesterday for “system improvements”, but cell phones are everywhere. This is just life here, I think. I’ll keep watching, and hopefully soon I’ll jump aboard for a fishing trip.