The hands that once felt the living silver on the decks of the boats have finally become still, as death, that great selector that understands neither fishing grounds nor quotas, has decided that this Thursday, March 26, 2026, was the day to haul in Jaime Llorca’s nets. The man departs, but the name remains written on the cold storage boxes and in the memory of the Port of Las Palmas, where for forty years he built an empire of ice and scales that was, in reality, a monument to the will to not settle for what the sea offers for free. The pride of those who know that every box that leaves these docks carries, apart from a commercial seal, the respect of a legacy that now belongs to the entire Port of Las Palmas.
Those who know the trade say that there was a time, back in 1986, when the company decided to stop chasing the fish to learn how to wait for it, replacing the fatigue of the hook with the intelligence of logistics, and thus this long-sighted Canary transformed the appearance of the docks. Ultracooling, that human trick to stop time and deceive decay, was his tool to ensure that the flavors of the depths reached the world’s tables intact, from the tunas that shine like mirrors to the meat and vegetables that also learned to sleep below zero through his efforts.
Beatriz Calzada, speaking on behalf of the Port Authority of Las Palmas, which is today a little more orphaned, recalled the revolution of a businessman who not only sold food but also wove an invisible network of international agreements, ensuring that the name of the islands traveled in refrigerated holds to remote ports. It is no small feat to have sustained the fabric of an archipelago with the same firmness as selecting a piece at the source, knowing that the freshness of a journey is not measured by the temperature of the chamber, but by the integrity of one’s word amidst the noise of the cranes and the smell of salt.
Now, Jaime Llorca S.A. remains like a ship that must continue sailing without its founding captain, guarding that ‘dry line’ of preserves and that infinite variety of foods that he knew how to organize with the passion of an ancient navigator. The sea will remain there, crashing against the dock, and the trucks will continue to leave loaded with frost, but in the silence of the offices on the fourth floor, that cold emptiness will be felt, left by someone who, after having fed so many, decides that it is time to rest in the final fishing ground, where ice is no longer needed to be eternal.
What remains, after the pulling in of the nets and the silence of the machines, is the invisible sediment of a school that was not written in books, but in the cold of the chambers and the precision of the auction. Those hundreds of employees who learned to read the sea in the shine of an ultracooled piece are today the guardians of a trade that Jaime Llorca bequeathed to them as a legacy of wise hands; they carry in their daily discipline the signature of a man who taught them that excellence is not a temperature, but a commitment.
Now, the family stands as the necessary beacon, not only to guard the deeds and seals but to act as a guarantor of a continuity that feeds on blood and surname, ensuring that the ship does not lose its course in strange waters. Because as long as the children and grandchildren keep the engine of memory running, and the workers continue to recognize in each shipment the integrity of the founder, the company will not be merely a balance sheet, but a living promise that what was built with passion can survive the absence of the one who laid the first stone.
