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| India Crew at Shelter Bay Marina |
Having sailed along the Darien Coast twice at night and further offshore, we wanted to see it during daylight. The winds had picked up in the days leading up to our departure from San Blas and we knew we could make the 80 NM back to Limon Bay by daylight if we left early. Even so, we were now familiar with the breakwater and anchoring in the flats outside of Shelter Bay if we didn’t. The waters are unnervingly shallow off the coast. Depths of just over 100 feet are suddenly interrupted by shoals and shallows of 30 feet, which is something to avoid in heavy seas. The swells that day were a moderate 6 feet and mostly behind us and with a brisk wind we buzzed the desolate coast at speeds of 8 to 14 Knots. It is spectacularly rugged with no sign of inhabitance in the jungles and forest until Bahia de San Cristobal and Isla Grande. We arrived late afternoon and settled in for the night within the familiar view of Puente Atlantico.
Monday was the start of a busy week for us! Our stateside crew, Andrea and Kalev, were arriving Tuesday evening and Angela and Rick were already on their way to Panama City where they would spend a couple of days touring first. We needed groceries and some hardware pieces and india needed a scrub! We wanted to catch the daily bus to a shopping center and put india on the dock a day early. This is of relevance because at the moment of backing down into the slip, we discovered an issue in the starboard engine whereby it did NOT want to engage in reverse gear. With a bit of close quarter maneuvering and help from the dock master and some new neighbors we were able to secure in our slip with no drama. Only now we had a new problem. The first cure was linkage adjustment which seemed only to help. The second solution is lapping the conical gears with compound and that would have to wait til the Pacific side.
In a flurry of activity, the boat was cleaned and provisioned, the guests arrived and we all enjoyed some nature walks in the adjacent jungle in search of howler monkeys, swimming in the pool, and a yoga class for the ambitious ones (you know who you are!). On the eve of our transit, we sat down for dinner at the Marina Restaurant to catch up and organize our thoughts for the big day! None of us ever saw those howler monkeys! David and I heard their other worldly ravings (and it was haunting indeed) three weeks previous, but the troop of deceptively small creatures had apparently moved on.
All the videos we watched on YouTube Vlogs of folks who have taken their boats through the canal along with all the forums and information we could glean from the internet gave the impression that the locks were fairly straight forward. So we took a little time before we left the dock to train our stateside crew - with zero boating experience except for Kalev - with a little Marlin Spike Knot Tying and Line Handling lessons. What could possibly go wrong?
When I look back on it now, I should have read the signs much earlier, but caught up in the ongoing excitement for weeks leading up to this moment, it was easy to miss. We headed to the flats to anchor before our 1500hr Radio Call to Cristobal Signal. We soon realized that our only buddy boat for our raft ‘nest’ in the locks was a custom aluminum sloop, called Zouterik, of similar length operated by a Dutch family. The owner, and one of the few on board that knew what she was doing, we later found out, very nicely called us on the radio for an introduction, but weirdly the boat spent the next hours zig-zagging and zooming about the anchorage while we calmly sat down for a meal. Sign One. The advisor, who showed up late and trod all over the decks with his black mucky shoes was in a hurry to get going the minute he stepped on board. Signs two and three. Sign Four, only Kalev noticed, more on this later.
Anchor up, we were on our way to the lock in minutes, all in good cheer, delighted to see the elegant Puente Atlantico overhead and locks by night as all was beginning to light up before us. Lights on the water are deceiving and confusing when reflected on its surface. Distances are warped and easily misjudged. Twilight in the tropics is particularly bewildering as the lights fade and suddenly it is night. Fortunately, I have plenty of experience with this from dinner cruises and 24 hour ops on research vessels and workboats, making this within my commercial comfort zone for decades. But there was no way to account for that other guy! As the winds and currents were pushing us from behind toward the locks, my advisor ordered me to pull to the side next to a buoy and hold position to allow the other sailboat to come alongside and tie up. David had everyone nicely in position on our port deck from stem to stern and we all watched incredulously as the heavy metal boat charged up to us and then awkwardly slammed in reverse last minute causing all kinds of water disturbance around both vessels. He had amateurishly misjudged the current and his braking capability. On a second attempt, with lots of barked orders and hand waving from their advisor, we were able to make fast and spring some lines fore and aft for the 'nest'. Once underway again toward the locks, a new plan was hatched by the Canal Office and revealed to me by the advisor, meanwhile, I was already feeling the extra drag on my maneuvering management due to the heavier attached boat on my Portside, with my outside (starboard) engine, the one in the best position of force, crippled with the backing problem. The new plan was to raft up to a canal launch already tied up inside the lock. As I made my approach, slowly and cautiously, to line up and slide in with the least amount of rudder, the advisor cavalierly ordered reverse engines. I guess he had not noticed that I had been using astern propulsion since I entered the locks minutes earlier, knowing what I knew about my engine. We were only three boat lengths away from the powerful launch when it suddenly came alive as if it just noticed us. In the split of a second and with a loud pop, the stern line from the launch to the lock wall disintegrated in a spray and fell in the water. From the following Spanish explicative on the radio, I knew that the line had fouled his prop.
In quick reaction and spin of the wheel to left rudder with all ahead on the starboard engine and full reverse on the port, we were in a positive spin with no time to lose. I needed to be in forward momentum to stem the heavy current I turned to face before we ended up sideways into the launch and possibly the big ship ahead of us in the lock. Fully recovered, and headed back out of the lock area, the advisor confused me by grabbing the helm and reaching for the throttles. I quickly erased what he had attempted to do and pushed on out of there. It was all commotion and inaction on the other boat and we needed to disengage and regroup. Once the dust had settled, I assured the advisor that I was a professional who absolutely knew what to do. I was not going to admit my engine troubles knowing that it might be game over for our transit and I was confident that I could manage. He then disclosed that the other, loud and animated advisor, was new on the job and that the other sailboat operator wasn’t paying attention which never explained grabbing my helm. It was decided that once the launch had cleared the docks, we would proceed to the lock chamber close to the starboard wall, send lines, and wait for Zouterik to tie up alongside in the calmer waters.
So again, we are making way, untethered towards the lock as the launch limps outbound and then spins abruptly in front of us trying to de-foul the prop. I mean, W-T-F? If I didn’t have witnesses, you could easily dispute this story as over the top. Even more evasion action was required with a following current before we could find our place on the wall. The monkey fists came down with a thump, our lines were attached and sent to the line handlers on the lock walls and we were secure. Zouterik made less of a hard landing alongside this time and everybody knew the drill. Once secured in our nest, lines were sent to Zouterik and returned and we were centered in the lock, finally, as the gates begin to close.
Once the gates were locked behind us, the water began to rise abruptly in large swirls. Soon we could peer over the first gate to the bay down below eye level to the beautiful lighted bridge. The displacement of the vessel ahead of us in the lock was massive, she was at the limit to each side and when the gates ahead opened and it was time to move she needed to use engines to propel herself forward as she sucked at the walls, which caused some initial turbulence. In this, it was prudent to slack our lines only after the ship put some distance between us, then follow her slowly into the next lock. Our new crew soon understood what was needed for the line handling and did a splendid job maintaining the lines, slacking when needed and securing at the right time, although they probably didn’t think so that night. David was an energetic and athletic blur on the deck, wanting to be all places at all times, covering all points as necessary even filming short segments! With each lock the process was repeated, lock hands walking the lines up the steep walls at a pace of 2 knots and securing the new position. All I did was bump the throttles in and out of forward gear trusting the lines and handlers to do the rest. When it came time to snug up to the ship again in the following locks we were able to act in tandem with Zouterik using all of our engines in complement with better communication so we had more reverse thrust when needed, and this made all the difference. And so it was, in our final lock as we ascended the 85 feet above sea level and gazed over the stern of india, that the view behind us with the magnificent bridge and Bahia Limon beyond… was a photo perfect and breathtaking sight the lucky few of us will ever see.
I would love to wrap the telling of our first day in the canal with a gallant ending. Except I can’t. Here we are, out of the final lock, steaming ahead in pitch black darkness, everyone exhausted, it is now 2330hrs, over eight hours from our radio call to Cristobal Signal, and Mr. McCleen, our advisor, who, by the way, spends five days of his week as a security guard, decides to grab my helm again. W- - T - - F? I guess, and I am making excuses here, he knew the way, it was late, he was tired, frustrated and still needed to get back home to Panama City, yet a couple of hours away. With a barely controllable rage building up inside of me, I asked the crew for an electronic chart and a hand held light which were brought up promptly. I had politely tried to nudge Skeeter out of my way a couple of times until I, finally, brought myself to my full standing height and formidable weight and very evident fury and took - my - fucking - helm. Did he honestly think I was going to let him blast into a dark, unfamiliar and currently invisible abyss with my boat? The RADAR had not been turned on in the locks. Some minutes later, the crew, in a beautiful synchronization of lights and perfectly executed line handling, bridled india onto the monstrous ship mooring for the night in Gatun Lake. It was time for a drink!
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| Fabulous view from the second lock. Looking behind us at the Puente Atlantico! |
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| View Foreward |
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| Closer look at the locks at night |
Early the next morning, while the coffee was brewing and the fruit was put out, I learned of the fifth sign from Kalev. Apparently, ol’ Skeeter, had made an obviously disapproving face the day before when he learned the identity of the captain he was to work with on india. I imagined the many expressions I had seen, either covert or unconcealed, in my long career. It never mattered when I was younger, as I knew I would win them over with my skills and charm, and it certainly doesn’t matter now. It is good information to have either way, but preferably, in advance.
Gatun Lake is an immense flooded plain. It was once a quiet valley of Indian communities living off the tributaries of the Chagres River. Now it is the great waterway passage between the two seas and the set of locks at each end. Small islands have formed as the tops of the hills and mountains are all that is left above the waterline. We spent an hour watching ships in the distance and workers on launches buzz around us until, Juan Ortiz, our new advisor, stepped onboard at 0815hrs, dashing, courteous, smiling…a breath of fresh air. He was very polite, not in a hurry, eager to tell us all about the lake, the locks, the history, points of interest, and he had perfectly clean boat shoes! It was, most assuredly, a new day! The three hour voyage through Gatun Lake was a pleasure cruise enjoyed by all.
After some winding passages through Culebra, entwined with large passing ships, we arrived at the first lock, Pedro Miguel. Here is where a lone sailboat joined up ahead of us to a wall position. Zouterik came alongside, and with a polished performance, we were nested up again like pros. The only maneuvering concerns this day would be sheering winds off the port beam but no current. I explained to Juan our issues the previous night and he assured effective communications with the other advisor who turned out to be a young woman. We entered the Pedro Miguel Lock, monkey fists and heaving lines were expertly thrown and returned, then adjustments were made to center our nest. The Pacific Locks would be different in that the large vessel to share the lock with us would now locate behind us, and we would be losing water from the lock to descend to sea level at the current tide which has a range of 15 feet. Our new neighbor, the Meridian Express, was a massive cargo vessel of approximately 600 feet or so. And she kept coming, closer and closer and closer and closer until barely 75 feet separated us! Then, the most unexpected, truly remarkable incident occurred. A long, very long siren sounded at the locks. It was so loud and continuous that we all thought it was an alarm. I looked at Juan Ortiz for an explanation. To my surprise, he was smiling. I could barely hear him when he explained that a lock hand was retiring that day and this was his send off. Then a man climbed down from the locks, with everyone clapping beside him and taking pictures, and walked down a path to the outside. The big ship behind us sounded his thunderous horn and we all started cheering and clapping, eyes wet with tears. It was so very touching. This went on for endless minutes and we were overwhelmed to have witnessed this wondrous event on the canal. This was definitely the highlight for me and the point where, caught up in the emotion, I could begin to appreciate the tradition and the history of this truly amazing engineering marvel of the turn of the 20th Century. It had finally resonated, after the chaos of the previous night, what we were doing here. Taking our little sailboat, with the support of our friends onboard and those back home and around the world reading our blogs, on the path between two seas leading to our next great adventures.
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| Navigating the turns in Gatun Lake |
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| Nested with Zouterik |
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| Approach to the lock |
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| Enter our new neighbor! |
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| Whoa! |
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| Whoa!, I say! |
The Pedro Miguel gates opened forward and we watched the lone sailboat from London, KEEP CALM, wiggle away from the wall and exit. We released our lines, experts now, and slowly made our way to the final two locks at Mirafores a mile away. The Dutch family made a batch of cupcakes for us and Andrea learned from the owner that the guy operating her boat the previous night was a volunteer from Shelter Bay who wanted some experience before taking his own boat through the canal. So many questions there, but might explain a few things. The rest of the transit went like clockwork, everyone on point, the winds never kicked up to much effect either. There is a spectator building on the last Miraflores Lock and it was teaming with people seeming to cheer us onward. As the final gates opened and we spilled into the Pacific, it felt like a triumph. And it was.
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| Yep. |
