Transiting the Panama Canal

The isthmus where the continents of North and South America join has been well travelled for the past 500 years. During the 1500’s, the Spanish walked across on cobblestone roads to transport stolen gold from Peru to Spanish ships waiting in the Caribbean Sea. In the 1800’s the California gold rushed drove tens of thousands of treasure hunters in the other direction resulting in the construction of the Panama Railway.

The Panama Canal was considered by the Spanish, attempted by the French, and completed by the Americans in 1914.   At a cost of hundred of millions of dollars and tens of thousands of lives an artery connected the Caribbean sea to the Pacific Ocean, a heroic human undertaking.

In January 2019, we started the paper work to transit the Canal.  Miraj was measured and deemed seaworthy; we paid a hefty fee, and received a transit date.  The Panama Canal is a finely tuned billion dollar a year business, and boats have to move through like clockwork.  But compared to the terrifying prospect of having to go around Cape Horn the bureaucracy surrounding a Canal crossing was a piece of cake. 

The next two weeks were filled by anticipation and planning. I provisioned and shoe- horned supplies in to plastic bins and cupboards in preparation for spending the next 9 months in the South Pacific, and Bill scraped barnacles, installed our SAT phone and installed more solar panels.  We took Miraj for a test-run around the Flats, inside the San Christobal breakwater, loaded down to the waterline. The engine purred like a cat and all our systems behaved, we felt ready.

Adrian, our sailor friend and crew to the to Galapagos arrived from North Carolina the evening before our departure. We participated in the weekly barbeque and potluck at Shelter Bay Marina and tasted the bittersweet flavors of goodbyes.  As always seem to be the case, our boating-friends were spreading like a dandelion seeds blowing all over the globe.    

At five am February 11, 2019, we joined the timeworn naval train of seekers and traders transiting the Panama Canal. We snuck out of the marina in the rain and picked up our advisor Reginald, on the Flats.

The Panama Canal Authority requires an advisor, four line handlers, and an assortment of 150-foot dock lines and fenders aboard. Our ample crew brimming with anticipation huddled in the cockpit hugging coffee-cups, as Bill steered Miraj towards the Gatun Locks.

First light came fast and eased rafting up to Katta, a Norwegian catamaran, assigned as our buddy boat. Glovis Crystal a colossal car carrier waited in the from part of the chamber as we pulled up alongside a tug already secured to the concrete wall.

The giant, original, bronze gates closed behind us and I caught a last glimmer of the Caribbean Sea. Symbols of renewal emerged on the seawall as Miraj ascended with the rising water 

Elevation rises 26 meters from the Caribbean Sea to Lake Gatun in three separate locks. Miraj bobbed like a cork with the incoming water in each lock. Tied to Katta, our line handlers stood idle as the tug maneuvered their lines attached to giant cleats above. Miraj danced and heaved in the turbulence through each lock and spilled in to Lake Gatun unharmed in the early morning light.

I served, eggs, ham, and beans for breakfast while Miraj motored across the lake, tankers and cargo ships anchored all around us. The lake is 25 miles long and at 6 knots we reached the Pedro Miguel locks by lunchtime.

Miraj rafted up to Katta as before, but this time each boat tied up to the sidewall. Our line handlers, positioned  stern and bow caught the monkey fist thrown by the canal staff, and tied the lead to our dock lines. We hung our six ball fenders  and stood by in tense anticipation. The water surged out of the lock while we paid out line without letting it go slack positioning our two vessels in the middle of the chamber.

At the second lock, the Mira Floreres, the Glovis Crystal, accelerated, creating an unexpected surge.  To stop us from spinning we tightened the stern dock line, resulting in a sickening crack as the fairlead pulled out from the toe rail. The damage was superficial and we regrouped for the final lock.

 In the final lock the sweet water of Lake Gatun meets the salty Pacific Ocean and creates a current. Unnerved by the power of the Glovis we braced ourselves for turmoil. We had heard stories of boats spinning getting crushed against the cement wall and we were alert.

 Descending, to sea level, my pulse increased, and I prayed as the last doors opened. The canal workers released our lines from above and still tied to Katta we motored out of the last lock, at last free to enter the Pacific Ocean.

The 10-hour Canal transit was intense and a once in a life time experience. We felt relieved, and exalted, blessed in new water.  A dream had come true and the South Pacific waited ahead.

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