Often after midnight, Eric Rinaldi unties the mooring lines and carefully maneuvers the fishing boat Diego out of Monaco's Port Hercules.
Contemplating the hours of pitch darkness ahead, he passes rows of superyachts as he heads out to sea, their polished hulls and elaborate designs in stark contrast to the simple practicality of his fiberglass workboat.
On the Diego - named after his young son - Rinaldi's greatest luxury is an old Nespresso machine, one of the few comforts among the pile of nets, hooks, bright orange floats and other tools of his trade.
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What Diego doesn't have, however, is a bridge, or boarding ladder - a detail I quickly noticed as I approached the anchorage one warm November morning.
To get aboard, I had to pull myself from the floating dock onto the handrail of Dede, Rinaldi's smaller fishing boat moored next to it, before using the handrail on the opposite side as a springboard to jump onto Diego.
While I was doing that, I noticed the shining bridges of the neighboring yachts.
But as the only two fishing boats in a sea of pleasure yachts, it seemed almost fitting that boarding was just as unusual.
Fishing boats were not always such a unique sight in Monaco, a principality ruled by the Grimaldi family of Genoese origin since 1297.
During the Middle Ages, the threat of invasion from across the Mediterranean kept people away from the sea.
By the end of the 18th century, the threat was almost reduced, the coastal waters opened up as a source of income for local fishermen.
They would sell their own catch on the dock or at the fish market on Place d'Armes, the square at the foot of Le Roche (the original settlement of Monaco and the place Palais Princier de Monaco) which still exists today as a market.
By the beginning of the 20th century, there were more than ten fishing families in Monaco, Rinaldi told me.
Ever since the 1960s, sharp, brightly painted traditional wooden fishing vessels commonly found along the French Riviera and in Provence, shared the harbor with early-style pleasure yachts.
Still, the decade proved to be a turning point for several reasons, said Jean-Yves Giraudon, a member of the editorial board. Annales monegasques, of the historical view of Monaco.
"Boat building techniques changed and the marine carpentry profession almost disappeared with the advent of fiberglass.
"At the same time, Monaco's economic development has seen increasingly large yachts arriving in its port," explained Giraudon.
Today, it is a profession in danger of disappearing completely.
In these parts, Rinaldi is known as "the last fisherman of Monaco".
"The next generation wanted to do other things," Rinaldi said.
We sat and talked in Diego's wheelhouse, and the plan to take the boat out that morning was ruined by engine trouble.
While I was watching the exclusive Yacht Club de Monaco behind us, his ground floor "Wine Palace" filled with prime vintages of Bordeaux and Burgundy for sipping by the sea, I found it easy to assume that many were lured by new, less manual ways of making a living.
Construction of the luxurious Casino Monte-Carlo, completed in 1863 on an arid plateau where citrus trees once grew, it changed the course of Monaco's history, transforming the small principality of Grimaldi to a resort town for royalty and nobility.
An area of 2 square kilometers is now synonymous with wealth: as much as one third of 39.150 Monaco residents are reportedly millionaires.
He lives among them 9.611 (as of December 2021) citizens of Monegasque, including old local families like the Rinaldi's.
Under Monaco's constitution, these citizens are guaranteed benefits such as subsidized housing, but their traditions are maintained through associations such as Comité National des Traditions Monégasques (National Committee for Monegasque Traditions), founded in 1924 to protect, among other things, the Monegasque dialect.
Then there are passionate individuals who preserve a proud heritage: such as Rinaldi, the fourth generation of a family lured by the sea.
Rinaldi's great-grandfather, Adolf, was the first to fish in these waters around 1900.
After him came Ange, Rinaldi's grandfather.
The third generation, Andre - or Dede, as he was known in port (and after whom Rinaldi's first boat was named) - followed.
And for Rinaldi, there was no doubt about his future.
"As a baby, he was already thinking about fishing, almost before he could speak," Rinaldi's mother, Jacqueline, told me.
During her pregnancy, she said she avoided going anywhere near the port.
"I didn't want him to have the desire," she recalls, knowing from her husband how all-consuming avid fishing can be.
Her efforts quickly proved futile.
"Even in the stroller, Eric was always drawn to his father, the harbor and the boat," she said.
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Around the age of five, as soon as he could swim, Rinaldi began fishing with a rod on the docks, while Dede kept a watchful eye on his son from the boat.
By his mid-teens, he alternated between a week at school and a week fishing with his father, biding his time before he could officially leave school and join his father in fishing full-time at 16.
Dede, who passed away a decade ago, taught his son not only practical fishing skills, but also how to read the Mediterranean Sea, a body of water where conditions can change in just half an hour.
He also remained loyal to the traditional vessel sharp, has never fished on a modern-style fishing vessel.
The biggest sharp on which he was fishing was 14 meters long.
Rinaldi switched to a modern fiberglass vessel when he bought Dede after his father's death just over a decade ago.
Less than two years ago, he took ownership of Diego, a slightly larger fishing boat.
Today, with Uncle Charles helping him, Rinaldi sails up to four hours off the coast of Monaco in search of larger fish such as tuna and swordfish.
Closer to the coast, when the water warms up in the spring and summer, he hunts smaller species such as mullet, sea bream and scorpionfish.
He can spend up to 24 hours at sea, and when he returns he prefers to just sleep.
It is not unknown for him to return empty-handed.
"Ten fish hold me," he said.
Earlier this year, he had a record catch, including a 180-kilogram tuna, which was quickly snapped up by a chef at one of Monaco's top restaurants.
His catch is sold or served fresh with other fish in Pêcherie U Luvass (the Monegasque name for Mediterranean sea bass), the fishmongers behind his pier, which he co-owns.
Local restaurants as well as residents are clients — “even chefs from superyachts,” Rinaldi said.
The place has evolved with the arrival of local restaurateur Sami Ben Slama as his business partner in 2020.
Now, elegantly dressed tables on the waterfront provide a place for the lunch crowd to linger.
But the success of the restaurant allows Rinaldi to continue his profession - and passion - said Ben Slama.
It is still too early to know if Rinaldi is really the last fisherman of Monaco.
His son Diego is only 12 years old and Rinaldi said he is too young to decide his future path.
Whatever it is, however, he is sure that there will always be a place for a fisherman in Monaco.
"And if my son doesn't want to follow me, and there's another young person who does, why not help them?"
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