At the entryway to El Médano, where the Atlantic waves whisper tales of yore in the breeze, there rests a forsaken vessel, still yet teeming with vitality. Those who glance at it from a passing vehicle remain oblivious to the decades of toil, heritage, and familial pride that lie concealed behind its weathered blue wood. This is not merely a boat; it is the Díaz vessel. This family embodies a subtle yet potent symbol of the fishing legacy of this region in southern Tenerife, which is currently bustling with tourism, unlike years gone by when its streets were adorned with fishing gear.
The Díaz family has consistently relied on the sea for their livelihood. “My father devoted his entire life to tuna fishing,” recalls Fernando Díaz, a son who not only inherited the family name but also the deep-rooted, respectful connection to the ocean. In those times, the family boat served as their means of income. However, as time, like the tides, wears on, changes inevitably occur. Following years at the helm, the patriarch of the Díaz family opted for retirement. Thus, Fernando and his brother, gazing into the distance, made a significant choice: to construct a new vessel.
The newly commissioned boat intended to carry the family’s aspirations was made in Bermeo, located in Vizcaya—an area that, much like El Médano, boasts a profound maritime heritage. Its expansive shipbuilding industry constructs vessels that voyage across the globe. “We sought something larger, more contemporary, capable of meeting our operational demands,” Fernando elucidates.
However, as the new venture evolved, a pressing question emerged: “What shall we do with the old boat?”
In numerous families, the resolution would have been straightforward: sell it or dismantle it. Yet the Díaz family found it hard to part ways with it. It was during a fortuitous encounter with Jaime Ceja, who was the mayor of Granadilla at the time, that the ship’s future began to take shape. “He suggested we donate it to the municipality to be exhibited as a representation of our fishing heritage,” explains Fernando. The vessel would remain alive, not in the ocean, but within the community. Thus, 25 years ago, the Díaz vessel found its current home at the entrance of El Médano, where it has since greeted all visitors to the town.
“Each time I walk by and lay eyes on it, I experience something unique,” he shares, a blend of nostalgia and pride evident in his voice. “It’s as if a part of our legacy is still alive.”
The ship’s location in El Médano also serves as a poignant reminder of the transformation of the local economy. Once, locales like this one stood as prominent fishing hubs in the southern regions. Today, the influx of tourism has reshaped the landscape and taken precedence. “It’s a demanding profession. We focused on tuna, which meant spending 15 days at sea, with scant rest,” he recounts.
As time progressed, the allure of the sea waned for newer generations. Fernando, who is a father, confesses that he would not encourage his children to pursue his path. “In today’s world, there are many job opportunities, making it understandable for them to seek less arduous careers. I utterly comprehend that young people may prefer to avoid a life of such hardship.”
History halted at a roundabout
This narrative, now paused at a roundabout, encapsulates not only the essence of fishing but also that of community, endeavour, and identity. “Every time I pass by there, I’m reminded of the days spent at sea, those chilly mornings, the scent…” he reminisces.
As a homage, the Díaz family, comprising about 25 members, recently decided to capture a photograph in front of the ship. The image features both veterans and newcomers; from Fernando’s father to his daughter, Paula. She expresses that “it is a source of pride and a means of asserting: ‘This is who we are, and we will not forget it.’”
And as the sun dips below the horizon in El Médano, the outline of the Díaz vessel appears to share the tale of a community that, while evolving, remains true to its roots.
