Simbad, The Umpteenth Return

It’s nightfall on Monday and the sea is rough. The waves are huge – six, eight, ten meters and more. They form part of the gray and misty sunset. The foam from the waves’ rises beyond the high roof of the pier and two metal sheets of the low roof blow away.

“It’s getting scary, this little sea that is moving like a carnival,” – says cousin Nero who is curiously counting the train of waves and the duration of the calm (the breath). He counts: one, two, three, four, five big waves, then a five minute breath, and then the one big wave again.

This summer Monday twilight is threatening.

The red flag at the end of the pier has prevented fishing since the beginning of the week. The huge waves burst with fury in front of the pier. The shallows just meters offshore from the tip of the pier make the waves burst; the boats anchored around the shallows are in danger. There are three or four fishers that have not been able to take their boats out.

It gets dark and fear takes hold of the women and children. The tremendous waves come hitting down. They are tons of mass with a terrible force falling on the depth of the sea, on sand. The glass of the windows shrieks as if it were an earthquake, the walls of the houses vibrate with each blow of the enormous waves. The men stay alert but cautious, they are veteran and experienced fishermen, old men of the sea. They have already experienced similar journeys challenging the sea’s fury.

The sea is pounding all night and early morning. It is very dark. The only thing left to do is to pray to the good Lord and to San Pedrito.

The dawn is not pleasant. The suspicions of destruction feared in the early morning materialized; three boats wrecked, one disappeared except for debris from its hut, one on shore with broken ribs and more than half body lost. A great pity!

A third boat, which  had disappeared during the night and its owner considered lost, a toll paid to the sea, has been seen  floating on the shore. It is miraculously almost intact.
A fisherman appears early from the north side of the village and witnessing this inexplicable return runs to the village to report that a small boat has returned on the shore of the Playa Los Goles.

It is a weathered little sailboat, Simbad, a companion of many fishing days for many fishermen. Simbad was first sailed by the first inhabitant of Cabo Blanco, Don “Taita Tume” (José Vicente Tume Chunga). The second owner, Uncle “Balto” (Don Baltazar Chapilliquén Morales), taught the fishing trade to his four sons and many other disciples who came to Cabo Blanco. Later, the great “Baltico” (Baltazar Chapilliquén Tume) took charge of the good Simbad, and together with his brothers Simón, José and Julio lived countless adventures.

One of Simbad most outstanding experiences was the solo fishing of Baltico who, looking for tuna and albacore, sailed offshore for so many miles that he could only see sea and sky. It is said that Simbad knew the sea so well that sometimes people could see it sailing without a helmsman. Pure legends, Baltico would say.

There are many times that the waves have brought Simbad to land. In 1983, it successfully faced a tidal wave; tied to its hull and covered from bow to stern with canvas, it passed the waves as if it were a submarine. Other times the boat has sunk and refloated. How many of these experiences have been lost in my memory?

Simbad has gone through storms, including the one that destroyed the port of Talara in 1983, this time with a crew that survived to tell the tale.

After that monday storm, Simbad has reached the shore with no water inside and with the mast in four pieces. Simbad’s current captain, Freddys, has found some of the rigging, even the old rudder. When it came ashore, several fishermen and women from the village lifted Simbad and put it to safety on the muddy hills.

Its sail was found too, just some hours later, but not the jib or the blue coal bunker. ‘No way,’ said one of the fishermen, giving his verdict, ‘the fact that it has been beached almost intact is enough.’ ‘It needs a port board, one from the stern shield, two ribs, and other small boards,’ said Don Freddys, ‘a little paint, a mast with eucalyptus cane, and it will be ready to return to its adventures again.’ He added, ‘The only downside is that it has been beached far away from its dry dock.” How will Simbad go back home in these conditions?

That’s when the community really mobilized. “Let’s make a video and send it through WhatsApp to Baltico and Joseluis, so they can start the emergency plan,” someone said.

Many people came to see the wounded Simbad, some posted his photo on social networks, others encouraged Baltico, and some cousins promised to pray for him to return soon to the sea, which little by little was becoming meeker like a calm lake.

The carpenter arrived, auscultated the boat, and said it was missing this and that. He came back two days later and put his heart into the repairs. A tractor came from El Alto. They tied Simbad up to the tractor. From Playa los Goles the tractor lifted the boat up and walked around the northern neighborhood of the town taking it to its old beaching place.

Simbad is already at the beginning of a new adventure and Baltico and Don Freddys are giving the boat the final touches to return it to the sea.

“We are going to paint the name,” said Baltico, while taking a picture next to the stern and uploading it to his social media page. In a few minutes that photo received more than eighty likes. “It looks stubborn,” said Pilar Purizaca. “Simbad has more lives than a cat”.

“Take iced soda,” said Aunt Janet, who brought a pitcher full of lemonade. “Let’s give a “salud” for good Simbad.”

“Cheers!,” everyone shouted.

In 1964, Simbad was constructed and began its operations. Sixty years later, Simbad is ready to brave the waves once again. God willing, it will sail for many more years to come.

It is only fair now to write these lines about a small boat, that (thank God), is still such an important part of our fishing community. An ode to Simbad, a boat with love and feeling.