Plate 6 - Fishers of Men Series 1

It was a perfect, golden-light morning on the Sea of Galilee that day. Our dear friend (who knows practically everyone in Israel) had arranged for a local fisherman to arrive at the shore by our hotel before sunrise. These things never seem to go quite as planned—but—it was 5:45 AM and around the corner came our fisherman. I wanted to take a lot of shots of him just fishing, but I wanted to capture him and his boat and nets looking into the rising sun over the Galilee. I needed to be out with him, but I could not be in the boat. There was the rub: I had not arranged for another boat to follow the fisherman from a distance. A man who was staying in our hotel gestured (no English) that he would be glad to row me around out there. Where was his boat? The eastern sky was pregnant with that pre-delivery glow of light. He pointed to a small, no, a very small item that was more like a large apple crate or a small bathtub, than a boat. I didn’t have any choice. We both climbed in an