Panama Canal

Panama Canal by Sarah
sent December 30, 2001

We were looking forward to the Panama Canal transit with excitement and
dread.  The canal does not really cater to small boats, and horror stories and rumors abound about catastrophic damage to yachts.  In fact, last February a line handler on a tugboat lost control and the tug slammed into a nested raft of three sailboats, causing all their masts to come down.  We heard many stories while in the canal zone too and it sounds like everything that can go wrong has gone wrong sometime.

The Panama Canal is 80 Km long and has three sets of locks, each of which has two lanes, and varying numbers of chambers, which lift vessels a total of 26 metres (85ft) above sea level. The water for the locks is obtained from Gatun Lake (which is surely never in short supply  given the amount of rain we  saw).  It is pumped in very fast - 197 million liters of water is used for each lockage, and the locks take about 10 minutes to fill.  This huge inflow of water into a very small area creates incredible currents and whirlpools inside the locks.   

We were very happy to get to Colon.  We had spent some very wet days waiting for a family of friends to arrive. And then an even wetter few days after the friends did arrive.  In fact we got caught out in the most intense lightening and rain storm of our whole 4+ years of sailing as we were bopping over to the island with the airstip to meet them.  Visibility was reduced to 30 m tops, and the lightening was so close we turned off all power and got the ditch bag GPS going, and just tried to stay in place. We watched and counted and hoped and prayed for just one more (please!) bit of good luck to save us from getting hit.  we were feeling like a pretty attractive lightening rod out there on the swell.  Our luck held, and we were able to duck back in to our anchorage and meet up with our friends later - who by the way were having their own adventure, their plane was diverted because of the storm, so they got transferred to a dugout canoe (which they had to bail!) for the rest of their trip.

Colon is one of the more crime ridden places on earth.  The taxi drivers that hang around the yacht club will be happy to tell you that you risk your life walking ANYWHERE.  And after Neill's encounter in Caracas we did not take this lightly.  Luckily we were not there long - 3 days, the bare minimum.  Only long enough to take care of details, which included getting the boat officially measured - any vessel up to 50ft costs $500 to take though the canal.  We also had to obtain car tyres wrapped in plastic to be used as fenders - conventional yacht fenders get squashed FLAT by the immense forces in the locks - and rent two more lines - each boat needs four docklines of 125ft each (no knots, no splices).  And we had to call the scheduler to try and keep the pace going.  Our visiting friends were there to do the canal with us so we couldn't be too flexible.   

Our date was - be out at the flats (the anchorage) at 4 AM ready to receive the pilot.  So, Margarita, with 9 aboard,  headed out for the night for one big sleepover to be sure to be ready and waiting although we expected delays.  Much to our surprise the radio call came right on time and Neill and I went up on deck to receive our pilot.  It was pitch black of course, and the pilot tug came on fast and nosed up to a place near the stern, and  the pilot grabbed our hands, leaped over the rail and came down hard into the side of the cabin top.  On the way over to the first lock the pilot says he had better call in and tell the boss that he jammed up his foot a little and wants it looked at after the transit.  The boss wasn['t having that - "Turn around, we are going to take you off now!"  But wait a minute, here we are behind the ship already! What a let down,  the pilot rated our chances of getting a new pilot for the day as pretty poor, and the schedule for tomorrow was already set.  Things were not looking good.  As it turns out we did get another pilot about three hours later.  The authorities must have  tried very hard for us, and the pilot that did arrive said he only answered the phone after the third try after a night of heavy partying.  He was actually still in the mood, appeared drunk and unsuccessfully asked for a beer (10 AM and going through the canal?)  We were a little apprehensive to be in his hands. (It turned out that this pilot was great - informative, fun, taught Douglas a thing or two about chess, he played national competitive chess- and we were very happy to see him for the stage two transit two weeks later).

The transit itself was extremely tense and exciting and exhilarating and scary. Those stomach butterflies were pretty active. The pilot kept telling us to settle down. We tied up to a tug for the Gatun locks (three chambers raising us up 28 feet each), and so we stacked four car tyres outside of a fender board outside of several boat fenders.  We were very glad to have the car tyres there, the water as it filled heeled the boat over several degrees and the knotmeter showed the water going by at 6 knots.  A lot of things can go wrong in this process, so we were relieved after each successful chamber completion.  Also the huge big panamax  container ship in front of us created a tremendous wash as it powered up to leave the chamber.  The sheer size and proximity of these amazing ships that just barely fit into the locks is very awesome and intimidating.  We are not used to being quite so close to these monsters, and feel very much not in our element.

The next lock, Pedro Miguel, was one chamber down, and therefore a piece of cake.  The water drains from the chamber instead of filling, and the big ship is put behind instead of in front, so you don't have to suffer through it's startup wash.  Just as we were getting good at this it was time to stop off at Pedro Miguel boat club so we could leave the  boat in safety for a quick plane trip North.  We came around the corner and there it was.  It turns out that the boat club, which is  very active with transoceanic cruisers, was having a potluck and the whole club just about came out to help tie up lines.  As well as our friends the Hoptoads being there to welcome us with a bottle of champagne. Then we went upstairs to the clubhouse to enjoy potluck Thanksgiving dinner and free beer.  Euphoria definitely set in!

This is actually a great little club, tucked into the jungle, apparently in the middle of nowhere, but in the canal.  We had the parade of ships  going right by day and night. Sometimes the wash from the tugs really rocked the boat.  And one night there was a huge commotion as a tanker ran into the wall outside the chamber.  The clubhouse has a great big common kitchen dining area, a wall of fridges, free internet, TV, coin laundry and friendly people. It is a real yachtie crossroads.  Some people stay months and get all sorts of classes and groups going.  We were in and out though, we had a Christmas date in Costa Rica.  The last two chambers down, the Miraflores locks, was nothing but fun.  In fact our pilot clearly found us a little too relaxed this time.  He started to tell us things that could go wrong.  Emma had a job change from videographer to line handler, since four are required, and she did an excellent job.  We had a bit of friendly competitiveness between the bow and stern, which the pilot was eager to fuel.  And there we were in the Pacific Ocean.  Home we come!

Best wished to all for 2002, and we look forward to seeing more of some of you.

Sarah and the Margaritas