“On a daytime drive through the pampas one would be forgiven for thinking that the wind- blown surroundings look harsh and dull, all but featureless and monotonously brown, but there is a secret magic that happens when the sun gets low. They say that Magellan named it the “Land of Fire” because of the natives’ camp fires that lit the shore as the ships sailed past. But this must surely be a conclusion of an armchair historian who has never seen a sunset over the Rio Grande. First the wind slows, then stops, and then for a short time God himself shows his hand and all the glory of the heavens is revealed. For a precious few minutes the very Arctic tip of South America burns from the tops of the once benign, now glowing, grass to the highest of the clouds. All too soon, the flaming sky recedes below the skyline, and the full moon rises slowly, demure and coy above the horizon, throwing its incandescent and cool light over the burned pampas.
My guests often start catching fish during this transcendent light show, but it is almost a disappointment to tear your eyes away, despite waiting all day to see a fish. The real fishing only starts when it is so dark there is only a silver reflection from the moon on the surface of the water to tell you where to cast. ”
This is an excerpt from James Topham’s issue 10 story, “The Man and The Moon.” Read it in its entirety below.