Dawn breaks over Chungungo, a small coastal village at the narrowest point of Chile, some five hundred kilometres north of the capital Santiago. The sky slowly changes from ink-black to deep blue as the first rays of sunlight illuminate the rugged cliffs and secluded coves of the Pacific coast. Misty tendrils drift over the water’s surface like dancing spirits guarding the secrets of the sea.
On the weathered wooden dock, where the air is filled with the scent of salt and seaweed, Captain Jesus Prada prepares for another day at sea. His boat, the Christian, gently rocks on the water, ready for the next adventure. Ready to harvest the treasures of the sea. The rusty metal hull tells the story of countless journeys on the turbulent waters of the Pacific Ocean.
Jesus Prada, 35 years old and a fisherman for almost two decades, is the proud owner of the Christian. The ship, a family possession that everyone in the family has had to toil, is a great responsibility for Jesus. He began his life at sea at the age of sixteen on his father’s boat and has since taken over the reins. Now he leads his own crew, together with his best mate Victor Alcantara, who has been working on the boat since he was eighteen. Victor, now 32, has fourteen years of experience and is an indispensable support and blood brother to Jesus. ‘Every morning when I’m out here,’ says Jesus, his voice hoarse from the salty sea air, ‘I feel the same excitement as when I first set sail. The sea calls to me.’
Not far from the dock, where the waves crash against the rocky coast and create white foam caps, other seafarers, Eduardo Guzman and his uncle Leonardo Afumado, are preparing to dive into the depths of the ocean. Their goal: the rare and valuable loco (an edible sea snail), the mollusc that provides their livelihood.
The Christian, an open fishing boat with only a small wheelhouse for shelter from the harsh, rugged elements, is equipped with a Yamaha 150-hp engine. Enough to race to the fishing grounds at a good speed. On this boat, Jesus and Victor fish for jurel (jack mackerel), congrio (cusk eel), and cojinoa (palm ruff fish, a type of mackerel). Yesterday, they set out twenty nets in hopes of a good catch today. Sometimes they bring in half a ton of fish, but on other days, Neptune is less generous in sharing his watery subjects with us humans.
Jesus Prada steers the Christian skilfully through the rolling waves. The horizon is a straight line where the deep blue sea and the light blue sky meet, interrupted only by the silhouettes of distant fishing boats. He points to the whitecaps on the waves in the distance. Birds circle above the water. ‘See those gulls?’ he says. ‘There are seals feeding down there. The birds are waiting for the scraps that float to the surface.’
It’s these small clues that allow the fishermen of Chungungo to read the sea. They understand the subtle signs of nature that tell them where the fish are. Victor nods in understanding as he lights a cigarette, somewhat hindered by the wind. They read the sea as their ancestors did, every ripple and every shade of colour a clue to what lies beneath the surface.
A sea that is both friend and foe. Jesus shares a tragic story about his brother, who drowned in 2010 when their boat capsized. For three days, his body drifted in the water before it was found. Despite the pain, the sea continues to draw Jesus in. ‘I have salt in my veins, just like the rest of my family,’ he says. ‘We are all fishermen or divers.’
Net after net we haul in. Jesus and Victor hoist the nets in time and again, sweat on their foreheads. But each time they are empty. And with each net, Jesus looks less cheerful. At the fifth net, only one fish is caught. One fish. In twenty nets. Two days of work. Casting out, hauling in, untangling, casting out again. The rhythm of the fisherman and his nets. Neptune is stingy today.
The fish have retreated, perhaps due to the bright moonlight of recent nights. ‘That’s why they stay out of the nets. Sometimes the sea is generous, and sometimes it keeps everything to itself,’ Jesus notes with a smile that accentuates the wrinkles around his eyes. ‘But you never know what tomorrow will bring. A few weeks ago, we had nearly five hundred kilos in one catch. You just never know.’
After hauling in the nets, I get the chance to take the wheel. With the full power of the engine, we cut through the blue water off the coast. The ocean may not be so generous today, but the hope for a better catch tomorrow remains.
While Jesus and Victor haul in their nets, Eduardo swims metres deep beneath the azure surface. Sunlight filters through the water, creating a surreal blue-green landscape where seaweed waves like underwater forests in the current.
For besides the fishermen, there are the divers of Chungungo, who search for molluscs like loco, macha (a saltwater mussel), and lapa (cockle). Eduardo Guzman is one of these brave men. Together with his uncle Leonardo Afumado and their friend Tomas Sarmiento, they dive to the seabed to collect these valuable shellfish. Eduardo says they often dive between five and ten metres deep, although some, like him, sometimes go as deep as thirty metres. ‘It’s dangerous,’ he admits. ‘A colleague of ours can barely walk due to decompression sickness, but he keeps diving because he loves it down there.’
The strong currents make diving dangerous. Eduardo recalls an incident a few months ago when a swimmer was swept away by the current. ‘We searched for him for six days,’ Eduardo says, ‘but we never found him. The sea can be ruthless.’
Chungungo is famous for its mollusc divers, who play a crucial role in the local economy. These divers, including Eduardo, Leonardo, and Tomas, risk their lives to harvest the sea’s treasures. ‘We only dive twice a month,’ Eduardo explains. ‘Each time it yields about one hundred kilos of molluscs. With a return of about one thousand euros per dive, our families can live off that. Diving more often would deplete the sea, and we want to avoid that.’
The loco, with its distinctive spiral shell and succulent meat, is a coveted delicacy in Chile. But overfishing in the past has led to a significant decline in loco populations, prompting the Chilean government to impose strict regulations to protect the species. The divers of Chungungo are among the few with permits to harvest locos. It is a demanding and dangerous profession that requires physical strength, mental resilience, and a deep respect for the ocean.
The divers of Chungungo understand the importance of sustainable fishing practices. They adhere to strict quotas and size limits to ensure that the loco populations can recover and thrive. By working in harmony with the marine environment, these fishermen help preserve their way of life for future generations.
Eduardo Guzman explains: ‘We don’t dive more than necessary. Our ancestors taught us to respect the sea and not take more than we need. It’s our responsibility to make sure our children can also enjoy what the sea has to offer.’
Leonardo Afumado, a veteran diver, proudly talks about how he has passed on his skills to his nephew Eduardo. ‘It’s more than a profession,’ he says. ‘It’s a way of life. We’re not just fishermen; we’re guardians of the ocean.’
As the day progresses, the light changes. The sun is high in the sky, its rays reflecting off the water’s surface like thousands of dancing diamonds. The fishermen unload their catch, and the divers bring their molluscs ashore. A deep respect for the ocean unites these men.
‘We are one with the sea,’ says Jesus as he hands me a yellowed photo of his brother, who died at sea in 2010. ‘Salt runs through our veins, and the sea is part of who we are.’
‘Every day at sea is a gift,’ says Eduardo as he lifts the last of the molluscs from their boat. ‘We do this not just for ourselves, but for our community and for the future.’
Not long after, we’re sitting in a local restaurant with fishermen and divers, eating the freshly harvested molluscs. The bottles of Chilean wine we wash them down with match perfectly.
The next morning starts as usual in Chungungo. The air is filled with the scent of salt and seaweed. As Jesus and Victor prepare for another round of hauling in nets, Tomas, Eduardo, and Leonardo sip coffee and smoke a cigarette. I wonder if they have as much of a hangover as I do from our mollusc-and-wine feast yesterday. They’re staying ashore today, in any case. In the distance, the waves roll endlessly toward the coast.
Jesus looks out at the horizon where the first rays of sunlight chase away the night. ‘Every day is a new chance,’ he mutters, more to himself than to me. ‘The sea can be cruel, but she’s also generous. May she be generous today.’ Victor casts off the ropes.
Soon after, the Christian sails out, gently rocking, with half-closed eyes it seems like an eternal tango between man and sea, with today again the misty tendrils as dancing spirits guarding the secrets of the sea.
Experience the traditional lifestyle of Coquimbo with TouristEd Chile. Together with their local guides, they will take you on an adventure that will allow you to experience first-hand and interact with the hospitable inhabitants of this off-the-beaten-track region.
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