Wind and waves lash against the coast, the ArgoFram rocks violently, seawater splashes over the windows into my cockpit, I reduce my speed – but everything is fine so far, all the pontoons are filled with air and it’s not too far to Portopalo, a place I’ve found and which no one else seems to know about… If only my mobile phone hadn’t suddenly stopped working – no more display, no more internet connection, no more (weather) information, no more possibility of making phone calls. Bang!
What’s going on? – The on-board instruments are not affected, but without a mobile phone (and without a replacement/backup), I’m suddenly really stuck. Bad luck, I think. The fishing port of Portopalo is very, very quiet, no one is there, and the village itself is two kilometres away. No problem – I moor, grab my scooter, explore the village (looking for a mobile phone shop – in vain) and realise that the whole community is somehow on its feet, putting out tables and chairs, preparing for a joyful evening with family and friends. I take a shower and wash myself at the small beach by the wobbly public shower, and make my way back. There is one (and only one) fish restaurant at the harbour, which is busy… I am offered a table outside. I enjoy a local dish while my laptop is charging inside…
The next morning, I meet Gino and Corredo, two elderly former fishermen who have probably been coming here for decades, just to see what’s going on. Nothing is going on. Except that there is a Swiss man who strikes up a conversation with them and wants to take a photo with them… because I don’t want to miss the opportunity to capture this photo reportage of encounters on this last stage in pictures. So this photograph is not from my mobile phone, but from my laptop – the people are in it, the ArgoFram is in it, I am in it and so is the foldable pentagon. Nothing is good, but I do what I can.