RadioProfile | The old Teo

Old Teo’s feats are as extraordinary as they are incredible. Although, for many, it is only an ability to get out of difficulties, his daring and great courage cannot be denied.

That August afternoon, when the temperature did not exceed 8 degrees, the old man went into the sea, with a surfboard and a handline to fish for sharks. He went there, so determined and happy, that his reckless outburst seemed bordering on madness. We were at the foot of a dune, very warm, and despite the cold, drinking mate and talking, “Tano” Hugo, Pablo and me. Suddenly, we saw him go down to the beach, with his neoprene suit and half-opaque goggles attached to his forehead.

“We’re going to have to go looking for him,” predicted the “Tano”, as if anticipating the trouble.

We raffled, although in a joking tone, who would put the pot, if the occasion presented itself; and he fell in luck to Pablo, who, since until then they had stolen from a game, celebrated it with smiles.

The surf was not imposed as dangerous, but I repeat, it was very cold, and, on the other hand, an offshore wind was picking up which heralded things a little more complicated. Strange that the old man did not notice the turn, since he was always very attentive to weather phenomena. He made me wonder if, even though he was healthy and vigorous, the passing of the years was not leading him to certain confusions…

The point was how long we had to wait for it. It is known that Teo does not like to be distracted when he fishes; and, not to mention how furious he would be if he suspected that, in reality, we were going for him, for that “old sea lion” who knew how to return whole from so many storms. Since the question still did not go beyond the simple hypothesis, we drank another kettle of mates and exterminated the churros, while time passed and old Teo did not reappear.

To avoid delays that would make the situation worse, we went with Pablo to look for the boat. The preparations took almost an hour, and upon returning to the beach, Hugo assured that he had seen no signs of the old man, either in the sea or coming out of it, due to some current that had diverted his return to the shore.

By the time we put on our suits, launched the RIB and started the outboard motor, the scene was quite different: a gale had already declared itself and the breaker was growing, while a second one was insinuating itself, a few meters away, as if crouching. and waiting.

We spent half the morning patrolling, but to no avail. The uselessness of our effort was evident and resounding: the unleashed waves did not allow us to see beyond the wave in front of us, in a sea that, minute by minute, worsened, with unexpected changes of quadrant and impetuous gusts. Already, by then, troubled by the suspicion that we would not find it, we began to question ourselves for not having notified any authority on the coast, who would have undertaken a more accurate search. Beaten and out of fuel, we realized that not much else was within our reach. The waves crashed against the boat, making it difficult and even preventing all maneuvers. When we rode the last one, the one that would deposit us on the shore, the 115 hp began to remind us of her whims until she inevitably went out. With so little fuel we could not revive it and we were left like that, at the mercy of the wind and waves. One of them took us so by surprise that she fell upon us with an unusual fury, almost flooding the boat but throwing us, at last, on the beach. Sore, out of breath and with the ugly aftertaste of failure, we hoped to find the old man there; but he was not.

The cold settled in our bones and while we experienced an uneasiness that invaded everything, suddenly, Teo emerged from the foam. It seemed the spirit of Don Carlos, who was once again confirming the fixation of his dunes and the survival of his trees throughout the town. Visibly weak, but equally upright and strangely elegant, with a harsh tone and a sullen gesture, he almost without looking at us asked us:

-And, boys? You didn’t catch anything either?

And he left, with the board on his shoulder, without his shark hook, but, surely, with an imperishable desire for revenge.

Text by Alfredo Parra.

by Juan Ferrari

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