If all economists were laid end to end,
they would not reach a conclusion.
- George Bernard Shaw -
The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.
- Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus -
The istmus of Panama. Colon town is marked on its correct place on the world anatomy.
Through the canal
Transiting the Panama Canal is easily described twice: the excitement before it and during it, and then, once the hype is gone and you're floating on the next ocean, another story that simply says: "Oh yeah, piece of piss, no big deal, easy, not much to tell". I'm not sure which one to tell. Hmm. Let me start with the short version:
Our first advisor Ahmed is being picked up by a launch from the Gatun lake.
Transiting Panama Canal
Yeah. Pretty easy. No probs. Up and down and we're now in Pacific.
Right...moving on:
Our cruising permit in Panama was running out in a week. I didn't know if that mattered or not. The rules about the permits and the reality of extending them are a mystery to me. Ask 10 cruisers and you'll get 10 different answers. Ask the same port captain twice and you may get two different answers. Ask four different immigration officials in four different provinces and you will probably get four different answers. And finally - two different captains asking the same port captain at the same time may also get different answers. We had consistently heard that an extra month is not a problem if you have only stayed your initial 3 months. We left the decicion to extend until later, to the "other side", the the Pacific side.
Gatun locks just after nightfall. Perhaps the only really exciting hour of the canal transit.
Preparing for the canal was frustrating. There was no real preparation needed, just load on some people and food, turn the key and head into the Gatun locks. The problem is the build-up of excitement. In my case, it was the build-up of nightmares about engine trouble and not being able to do the required speed. I also had massive worries about accommodating out crew. The canal requires four rope handlers and with Amy, Symian, Alex and Debs onboard Aliisa would have a record crowd onboard overnight. The forepeak is inaccessible - full of junk. The saloon bunks are narrow and short. The aft cabin has the only decent bed - well, it IS the only decent bed. The monsoon was over us. What would we do with six people sweating inside, all hatches closed, in tropical rain and heat, on a 32-foot boat?
First advisor Ahmed is arriving at the "flats"
The next worry was having crew at all. I've never had crew onboard. I've only been a captain because the woman next to me has allowed me to be that. Paula was self-sufficient and me trying to give her orders was simply inviting trouble. Annina is a self-declared non-sailor and me trying to give her orders is simply inviting trouble, again. (Women are much like boats... I said in an update long long time ago). Now I would have four people on deck, each with a line and an important job with the line. I was standing behind the wheel and supposedly responsible for EVERYTHING, yet having zero experience in Panama canal, just like everyone else onboard. To make matters worse, my crew was made up of captains and women! Here I am, hardly a captain enough to command myself, supposedly having to be a good captain to other captains and women! Aaaarrrggh.
Gatun locks at night
All my worries were wasted, as they always are. No-one got their fingers caught anywhere. I didn't have to do anything but stand behind the wheel and look worried. We had a clear, cool night, two hammocks on deck and the whole transit - making speed and all - went perfectly. The crew was excellent. Debs and Alex - despite being "land-lubbers" - remained calm and simply did what needed to be done. Symian worked on the foredeck with the worse setup, no cleat and no bollard to secure the line on, awkward routing of the line to the manual anchor winch and no chance to just pull the slack off quickly. I left him with it. If there is a man I would leave Sy Aliisa in the worse possible conditions and be confident that she'll be taken trough it, it would be Symian.
In the meantime Amy did a totally professional job at the back, in fact making it look like a walk in the park. Annina filled in all the gaps. She helped Debs in the front, me at the helm, made sure there was plenty of pics and videos recorded and had the feeding of the crew under total control. What was left for me? Drive the boat and feel responsible for everything? Perhaps drive the boat and worry about everyone being happy and ok. And that, they were, I hope. At least after we tied up against a massive blob of floating plastic in the Gatun Lake.
Once the world's largest floating crane - Titan - was Adolf Hitler's pride. After WWII the allies packed it up and brought it to Panama for the ongoing canal construction work. The Dutch have since bought even more Lego bricks and Mechano bits to construct a bigger one.
I would like to express my apologies here - publicly - to my crew for being nervous and cranky. It was my boat, everything I have in life, and I wasn't really relaxed enough to party before it was all done.
The worse was behind us and we all knew that the down-locking would be easier. We ate and drank. It was all a party, except that my transit-worries hadn't quite dissipated yet. The biggest one of them was making the speed during the 30 Nm drive across the Gatun lake. I closed the bar and ordered the party to be suspended at 1am. Party pooper. Yeah. I slept a few hours and got up at 0430. Though I had my share of wine the night before, I could only feel adrenaline in my body. Hammocks down, engine on, b/fast ready and go! Our new advisor arrived in time - at 0550am - and I had Aliisa in forward gear before he could put his bag down.
"We have a booking for you in Pedro Miguel locks for 1040 AM. It would be good to get there a bit before that, so let's see... we've got 28 miles, it's 0630.... captain, could you do 6.5 knots please". The last time Aliisa did 6.5 knots through water was in 2004 during a test run with the new engine, completely empty, only for one minute and with the ass digging in. The crew were having their breakfast down below and I saw them notice the vibration and noise from the engine. I saw Annina turn from the table to the GPS inside and say: "five point nine". Anything more than that and I think fillings would have started to fall off people's teeth.
The magic moment - the last gates of Miraflores locks open to the Pacific Ocean.
Wooo-hooo, I can see the last empty lock and the Pacific behind it!
I may have been able to push for 6.3 kn at this load, but I kept it at 5.9 and hoped there to be a delay later on. Our advisor - Moises - was pretty cool and while he never said that we don't need to make this time, he always reassured me by: "we'll be allright, skip. If your engine overheats, let me know, we'll be allright, captain."
We were allright, allright. There had been fog (!) in the Pacific side at dawn and that had caused some delays for ships coming up the opposite way. Our 1040 booking was put forward to 1115 AM but almost every bit of speed that I had made during the morning was needed, after all. Once we were five miles from Pedro Miguel, I started to relax and was able to pull back a bit. Admittedly I had taken a couple of beers to help on the task. The crew, on the other hand were severly hangover but claimed to be fully functional when I woke them up from their beauty sleeps.
It's not that lunch has to be taken while on deck duties - it's just too damn hot inside.
Downlocks were a non-event. Flat calm, overcast and hot. No turbulence at all. We just disappeared downwards like a slow elevator. No hassle with the lines, only a thick air of anticipation for the last locks to open. And there it was! Pacific.
When the mixing of fresh and salt water pulled us out of the lock at 4 knots, it was all done and it felt that way too. Night before at the Gatun lake I had "closed the bar" and declared the party over at 1am, feeling a bit like I'm spoiling the fun for everyone. On the second day of the transit our crew was quiet and hangover. I was chatting up the Advisor and we didn't talk much with Amy, Sym, Debs or Alex. Annina was busy catering and putting out snacks and lunch. We ate a quiet lunch and dropped the Advisor off. Moises was a great guy and fitted perfectly into our young crowd. Then suddenly it was all over.
The canal is always under construction. While new, bigger locks are being built, a continuous widening of the cuts is also taking place. The black piles push into the bottom and anchor the barge. The yellow towers are drills, inserting explosives deep under the ground. After the blast, the dredgers come and clean up the mess.
Between us, maybe about 5000 photos was taken with six cameras. In the days before digital, there would have been a lot of zeros on the bill. Now it's all zeros and ones.
Our crew was keen to get off. Amy and Sym had appointmets and work to do on their yacht back in Shelter Bay, Alex and Debs had planes to catch. When I pulled into the fuel dock at Balboa Yacht Club, I didn't even have the springers on before all backpacks and crew were standing on the jetty. "Allright, guys." "Thanks heaps". "Love you lots". "You were fantastic". "See ya". "Thanks again". "Bye". At 2pm Aliisa was rolling on a mooring at Balboa YC, quiet, messy, empty... with one last ocean ahead of her. I felt sad and confused. I wanted friends around me now, happiness and joy. I felt disappointed that we couldn't party now, canal behind us and even the captain fully relaxed. All I had was a smell of diesel in my hands from refueling, a rolly anchorage and half a planet of salt water between me and my future. One chapter of Aliisa's travels had ended, a new one had begun.
Amador
Panama City - Amador anchorage was not the most comfy after a brief thunder storm.
Next: Some Panama Islands and a slow trip to Costa Rica