“Here we are,” he says, slowing the engine as his dexterous hands nimbly twist and turn the mile-long fishing line into the Italian waters. I peer around in the darkness, wondering how on earth he has any idea where we are.
“By the shoreline, of course,” replies Michael, as if it’s clear daylight and the spot has been marked by a large florescent sign. I squint hard, and can just make out a few speckled lights on the bank. It takes an hour to cast the line out.
He sets sail almost every day of the year; come rain, wind or lightening.
“I have two daughters to pay for, and daughters are an expensive privilege,” he smirks.
The lines are left in the waters overnight and my mum and I return to Hotel Santavenere for the evening. We are invited back just after sunrise the following morning to see the results of Michael’s labours.
I’m amazed at the variety of fish we catch: cernia (grey scales and lips like Mick Jagger); pezzogna (plentiful along this stretch of coast); and fragolino (also known as ‘little strawberry’ for its pink-tinged scales). Michael will sell the night’s haul to friends and family.
After dark: night fishing in Maratea, Italy
Fonte: The Telegraph