We sailed off toward the mainland and the Golfo de Cariaco with Grace in light winds that moved the boats just fast enough to make Laguna Grande by dark. As we usually do, we trolled lines 100 yards behind the boat to see if dinner was out there. What was out there, were several fisherman buzzing at a high rate of speed between the mainland and Isla Margarita. Angie frantically yelling,
- Stop the boat (with no brakes, this one takes time).
- Yell to the fisherman as he tries to clear his prop.
- Watch the fisherman get pulled out of the boat and dragged as the fishing line gets caught around his hand.
- Get out the knife and cut the line to save the fisherman’s life.
- Hope the fisherman has better luck with your expensive lure than you did. Also hope he is not armed.
After that mini-adventure, we continued on our trip. Grace had better luck fishing and landed a nice tuna, much more edible than our catch.
Words cannot describe the landscape of this desolate place on the west end of the Golfo. The steep barren landscape is a collage of distinct earth tones ranging from white to rust to black. We hiked up onto the arid crushed rock hills created by seismic and glacier activity. The views were spectacular as were the unusual crystals and rock textures. We spelled our boat name in white rocks atop one of the hills. The water was a beautiful blue but very “cloudy”. Late that night as I was raising the swim ladder the water exploded in sparks of phosphorescent light given off by tiny jelly fish. Ahh, that’s why the water was so cloudy. I dove in looking like an asteroid shooting through space. Before bed we all laid out on the trampoline gazing up at the heavens above wishing upon falling stars.
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