It's 6.00am in Cabo Polonio, Rocha (Uruguay), a small beach town in the Atlantic coast of Uruguay. I witness 3 men performing their daily routine. No easy task I have to say. The first lights of dawn are breaking through the doubtful skies, which at times looks hesitant, like wanting to go back to sleep. The wind is blowing hard, harassing the sea into sets of spike white crests.
As I approach them in the vast beach, they actively perform the task of precariously sliding the...
more »It's 6.00am in Cabo Polonio, Rocha (Uruguay), a small beach town in the Atlantic coast of Uruguay. I witness 3 men performing their daily routine. No easy task I have to say. The first lights of dawn are breaking through the doubtful skies, which at times looks hesitant, like wanting to go back to sleep. The wind is blowing hard, harassing the sea into sets of spike white crests.
As I approach them in the vast beach, they actively perform the task of precariously sliding the two tons boat through the sand and into the defying ocean. My presence does not seem to alter in any noticeable way their daily routine, neither the intensity of the task at hand. Two of them, one in each side of the ?Machipe? manage the ship as it slides over two metal tubes rolling over a set of flat woods used as rails. The third one controls the pace at which the process evolves by lifting or dropping the anchor into the sand.
The only witness of his role the long line carved in the sand by the heavy weight of the anchor. Getting Machipe into the sand is only the beginning of what will for sure be a long day of work.
Pescadores en Cabo Polonio, Uruguay.
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