Panama City, part 1

26. Feb. 2015
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Panama
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Author: Pete

Well I was hoping to like Panama City more than Colón, but while the city itself is nicer, the anchorage kind of sucks. It’s packed and every five minutes a tug, pilot boat, or tourist barge throws enough wake through the anchorage to knock things off tables and annoy the piss out of you after a while. Also, the area has 4 or 5 meter tides, and heavy current associated with them. Everyone’s boat reacts differently to wind and current, so at some point in the changing tides various boats are feathered in different directions and don’t lay nicely threatening collisions.

Our first night a holler yanked me out of a deep slumber and I was on deck and fending off a boat before I was actually awake. Pulled in some chain and stayed up watching the boat doing a devil spiral like our wind generator. In the span of an hour the boat swung stern to wind, right across our stern, spun at the end of its chain, caught the wind with its hull and sailed through to the other end of its chain before flipping back around and being carried by current back toward us. Freaky. I slept on deck with one eye open.

Shipped Liza and Felix off to see their friends and do some surfing. Also brought the dinghy motor in to be service by Manuel, who works for Tohatsu motors. Our dinghy has gone from annoying to completely non-functional in the past few weeks and rowing in the hot Panama sun has been less than fun.

He started it up, as best one can do that these days, and diagnosed a ruptured fuel pump. We left the motor with him and took off an hour later bound for Las Perlas! The Las Perlas island chain is located a nice 35-mile sail from Panama City, and it was a great way to escape our less than desirable anchorage in the city.

Pretty good sailing with Mom and Denny in 15 knots of wind on a broad reach. Never thought I’d be able to share this experience with Mom. Thank you Scopolamine patches.God bless pharmaceuticals. Also cool to hear Denny’s sailing stories.

About two hours in we got a bit on my new squid lure! Denny and I hauled in a 5 pound tuna! My first catch (that I landed)! Finally!

I think I’ve been using lures that are a bit too big. It was an exciting catch, and then we set to work intoxicating the fish with a shot of alcohol in the gills and a knife to the brain. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had a knife to the brain when I’ve been passing too much alcohol through my gills too. Impressive to see how many little squid and sardines were in this guy’s stomach.

The wind died along the way, so we motored to Pacheco, the northern most island, arriving just before sunset. The wind then picked up and the current ripped through the island cut. Plus it smelled like cormorant poop. I made the call to move one island south despite the oncoming dark. I’m glad we did though we had to maneuver through a mooring ball field before anchoring south of Contadora.

In the morning we moved south again to the cut between Chapera and Mogo Mogo. The name of the island was worth going in itself! We even got to dig out our spinnaker and try it out along the 5-mile trip.

Found ourselves a tall sandy beach to swim to and lounge in the shade. Eventually we made a game of throwing crab apples at crabs the scuttled along the beach. Then after smelling the apples and finding the pleasant, Miranda took a bite of one. It tasted like sweet apple, so we all followed suit with a small nip each. A few minutes later our mouths were all fiery and scratchy. Stupid move. It went away. But stupid move.

Really interesting to deal with the big tides. Didn’t sleep hard again as we spun and feathered in weird ways all through the night.

Bagels for breakfast! It’s interesting what sort of American goodies you can find in Panama thanks to the canal. I worked on the rudders and wired the LEDs for the new inverter. Took all morning, of course. We got suited up and snorkeled right around the boat. Couldn’t go far with no motor for the dinghy and high current. But we had great sea life despite the bland, sandy bottom. Five or ten big stingrays worked the bottom, and troops of puffer fish doted on them as they fluffed the sand. Two long, green eels free swimming on the bottom, a party of 100 starfish, schools of jacks and other fish all added to the fun. The water was surprisingly cold! We’ve been spoiled in the Caribbean!

Cocktail hour, dinner and cards on a calm starry evening rounded out the night.

Motored back from Las Perlas in calm seas back to the crowded, rolling, annoying anchorage of Panama City. Did my dissatisfaction come out just then? Spending a week prepping the boat for the push to Galapagos. Exciting times and a lot of work ahead!

Transiting the Panama Canal

21. Feb. 2015
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Panama
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1 Comment

Author: Pete

It’s time! We’re going through the canal! So long Caribbean, hello Pacific! We’re doing it! Game on!

Okay, sorry. It’s an exciting day. Spent the morning and early afternoon getting the boat ready for the transit. Topped off engine fluids, the port side seems to be holding coolant now after weeks of leaking and troubleshooting. Fueled the main tanks out of the jerry jugs, watered up, washed the boat, tied on tires, and generally got the boat ready to go. It helped a lot to have a full crew and a dock. I almost had some time to myself! One last shower quick before we threw off our dock lines, backed out of our slip, and made for Colón harbor.

Motored to F Anchorage and watched in the ‘Flats’ for our advisor. Worked on the series drogue to get our jitters out.

We eyed our companions, Simmer Down and Peregrine, who would be going through the canal with us. Eventually a boat from the canal authority pulled up and deposited a good natured gentleman aboard. Señor Fransisco gave us the rundown in functional English before we finally hauled anchor and chased a passing freighter into the Panama Canal!

The harbor turned to narrows slowly. Tens of thousands of migrating electric-green butterflies streamed over our port side, racing in the wind like bright confetti. It felt like coming into a stadium with a cheering crowd. The narrows turned to river, then the Gatun Locks loomed up over the big freighter we were pursuing like the doors of King Kong. I felt myself involuntarily grinning like an idiot.

We rafted the boats together, the monohulls on either side of us.

Here’s the starboard side:

And next the port:

I was charged with keeping the boats from crashing into the freighter, holding us all off against the stern wind with Wendy and Belinda (the diesels). Yup- our buddies on the monohulls put their engines in neutral, and we pulled those freeloaders through the canal. True, but the middle is certainly the most coveted space as we simply watched and took pictures while they did all the line-handling work when it came time to tie up to the sides of the canal. So, really no complaints.

We inched into the locks after the big ship, taking care not to scratch my friends on the sides.

Monkey fists came raining in from the high walls to our bumper boats.

They tied small relay lines to the heavy, rented lines, which were hauled up to the top of the locks. The canal workers walked along with our raft of three boats, directing us until we reached the stopping point inside the canal when we’d rest while being risen up to the next level.

The great doors built apparently by Eiffel closed slowly outward. The green water roiled in from underneath us. The bottom filling method (versus the original method of water entering from the sides which created turbulence) is a modification of the builder who put the locks together in Sault Saint Marie, Michigan! The rivets on the big doors began to disappear as we rose; line handlers on our bumper boats took in slack to keep us steady in the chamber.

Not until you glimpse back behind the boat do you realize just how much altitude you’ve gained.

This is the same canal worker as in the picture above. Much closer now.

The foreword doors opened and the freighter stood ahead with a blast of prop wash that sent back at us beach ball swallowing eddies. We gave him space then followed into the second chamber, and then repeated the process, and then again in a third chamber. In the words of our sailing school instructor Captain Dan, “It was all very exciting.” Exciting yet remarkably well controlled. It’s like they do this type of thing a lot around here. There wasn’t much work for my crew to do but enjoy the ride. Being in control of three boats with just my twin Volvo Pentas was a bit unnerving.

Along the way our buddies Ben and Elizabeth sent us pictures from the Gatun Lock’s webcam!

The sun was setting as we hit the last chamber, and the light made the experience all the more surreal.

On the last lock the view down at Colón and the Caribbean was pretty impressive. So long Cólon! Smell ya later!

Motored into Gatun Lake as the sun set and cast long pink highlights into the sky. Gorgeous. We rafted next to Peregrine on a massive mooring buoy for the night, side by side with a big buoy in the middle. The lake is too deep to anchor so this is how it’s done. A pilot picked up our advisor and we were alone with our boats.

Aside from the excavation of the new locks going 24/7 it’s quiet and calm. Crickets singing in the trees sound like home even though we’re far away. And we have family on board! What could be better! On to the Pacific tomorrow!

Day 2:

Day broke slow over Gatun Lake. The calm of the night was punctuated by contrasting noise. Howler monkeys growled from the depths of the jungle as trains and construction equipment from the new ‘apliación’ of the canal clanked and whistled. Their juxtaposition was odd and fascinating.

Waited an hour for the pilot boat to drop off our new advisor. The master of the craft barreled up to our beam, it’s steel nose inches from holing our fiberglass hull. He deposited his cargo deftly and maneuvered powerfully away, seamless as the morning lake.

Daniel, our advisor, was a handsome, competent tug operator, well versed in the working and history of the canal, and patient enough to humor us by answering our myriad questions about the whole deal. We motored through the sprawling flooded lake with Peregrine and Simmer Down for an hour or so. The land around rolled with jungle and the peaceful lake quietly tolerated the big passing ships. Navigation cans polka-dotted the still water. I was a touch distracted by Wendy, the port diesel which has been losing coolant. I envisioned her overheating in the locks with two boats strapped to me and an 80 foot tanker behind.

The stunning terrain skimmed past us. I think it was the first time Tayrona was in sweet water. Morale was high aboard, and clear skies above. We cruised through Gamboa and the narrow Corta Culebra with tight space for us when the ships came through single file. Picked up a massive mooring buoy just upstream of the Pedro Miguel locks, our first of the day, and awaited the other small vessels descending with us.

When the time came we tied up with Peregrine and Simmer down, with a little confusion and I was again left to motor us into the locks. Linemen threw monkeyfists at the boat and the long blue lines were hauled to the sides before the doors shut behind us, low in the water. They grew until they towered above us, mossy walls dripping. The downstream doors opened and Tayrona was back on point. Day 1 we were pushed up by water flowing in underneath us. Day 2 is now all about being lowered gradually down and into the Pacific.

When we passed the Miraflores locks it really felt like we had done it. The observation tower where we had watched the operations so many years ago brought back a flood of all the decisions that had led to this moment since then. Whew. The heavy doors seemed like they shut the Caribbean, and the past, off. No going back now.

Motored out of the Miraflores locks and under the Las Americas bridge. Then we were out into the Pacific. Had a pretty great moment of realization of just what we’d done. So fun to have Mom and Denny here for it.

Anchored in Playita on the amador peninsula and had a much anticipated, and dare I say it, deserved, Balboa beer.

Bimini, the Bahamas- our first foreign port!

23. Nov. 2014
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The Bahamas
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1 Comment

Author: Miranda

So, here we are! In the Bahamas! After making a short, but tenacious, trip across the Gulf Stream to North Bimini Island. We have been anchored here for almost a week, as the winds are blowing like a banshee, socking us in.

Let’s start with the trip over- not exactly the smoothest of sailing, but we survived. It was fine. The obvious heroines (Wendy and Belinda, remember?) of the trip were our twin Volvo diesels which pushed us straight east the entirety of the trip- from anchor up to anchor down. Yes, we spent the entire day motoring straight into the wind. So, “why cross in those conditions?” you ask. Basically, it’s by far the least of two evils. Being that the Gulf Stream runs from south to north, you don’t want to be anywhere near it when the winds are coming from the opposite direction. This makes for nasty, confused seas. So, northerly winds and the Gulf Stream are one big, bad combination. And, once the northern winter winds in Florida start, they rarely ever stop. The winds were mild(ish), 10-15 knots, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely the weather window we were waiting for.

We pulled up anchor just as first light was peeking over the horizon, found our buddy boat, and headed east.

We were surprised at just how far our cell phone signal reached, so we both took turns calling family and friends from several miles offshore- to squeeze as much out of our U.S. cell phone while we had it, and it was just plain fun to share our excitement for the day ahead with loved ones.

There were two portions of the trip when the sea was at its worst- right at the beginning and then right, smack-dab in the middle of the Gulf Stream. Any trip made below decks during the day made us both feel a little woozy, but it was especially puke-y feeling around then. Per Casey Becker’s (I know, I know Casey Harrison’s) suggestion, as we headed through the worst waves, we blasted what I like to call “weight room jams” (some good ol’ Metalica, Def Leopard, Offspring- just think back to what they used to play in your high school weight room, and you’ll know what I mean).

It’s a somewhat anticlimactic moment to find yourself entering the Gulf Stream. People talk about it as a “raging river in the ocean.” As we were getting 5, 6, 7, 8 miles offshore, Pete and I kept looking and at each other and saying “so, are we in it yet? Are we in the Gulf Stream?” There’s no mistaking the odd feeling of being sloshed around in weird directions once you’re in the middle of this “river,” but the entrance… not so noticeable.

Here’s our new friends from Canada, Brian and Yvonne, in Options 3. They made the crossing with us and are now hanging out with us in Bimini. Really great folks. Lots of expertise, plenty of fun discussion, and great euchre players when the weather is especially yucky.

Headed out past Stiltsville. I was hoping we could get a closer look at these interesting homes, but we were too far away to poke around.

Some menacing, little waves.

Your first time noticing that there’s no land in sight is empowering… if a little scary.

Notice the lack of horizon in this picture- taken as we met a wave, head-on. Just a little spray.

And, finally, Land Ho!

Pete put up our first ever courtesy flag and later we toasted our first passage (of many, hopefully) with some champagne. Thanks Lily!

As far as life in Bimini goes, we generally see the sun pop out for an hour or two in the morning, then its grey clouds, constantly looking on the brink of rain for the rest of the day. But, it hasn’t been all that bad. We are itching to get a move on, of course, but Binimi World Resort (our neighbor here at the anchorage) has blessed with free wifi and access to THEIR SHOWERS! We haven’t been here in the Bahamas long, but you realize very quickly how fresh water is a very expensive and scarce commodity, so free (and HOT!) showers is as close to winning the lottery that you can get without actually buying a ticket.

We jumped in the beautiful, wickedly blue waters for a few hours one morning to do some snorkeling, but mostly we are using the time to do projects on the boat. Pete’s mostly working his way down a to-do list of repairs, while I’ve been focusing on getting our Pactor modem set up to send and receive email through our SSB radio. This will keep us connected wherever we happen to be. Other than the obvious social conveniences, this will allow us to receive important weather reports and maps on a daily basis from anywhere on the globe.

Getting this system all set up was no small feat. The technology has been around for a long time, but is still pretty darn cool if you think about it. Our Pactor modem will take our text emails, compress them into teeny, tiny bits of information, convert them to audio signals (something along the lines of Morse Code, but not really), then fire them to a shore station, where they will be converted back to text, and sent to all you wonderful folks. There’s both some special software on my end on my laptop and some special people working at the shore stations (thank you SailMail!) to make this all happen.

It took all of the “Idiot’s Guides to setting up your Pactor Modem… your SSB… your Airmail software… etc, etc” that I could get my hands on, but I figured the whole blessed system out! Several days of trolling through forums (because, of course, none of this software is written for a mac), I sent and received our first emails, weatherfax, and GRIB files by way of our Pactor radio. Oh, lordy, I have never been so excited to receive two-sentence email in my life!

Check out the shining moment for yourselves here:

With all the strong winds, we’ve also been very happy to get immediate gratification that shelling out the bucks for a new wind generator was a darn good idea. Most days, we have more energy than we know what to do with- and that’s on a completely cloud covered day. These days our poor solar panels are feeling like the uncoordinated, last-kid-picked-at-kickball to the new shining star at school- the wind genie, pumping out a consistent 10-15 amps and powering the entire boat on it’s own.

Here she is in all her glory:

We hope to push off within the next few days, although, to where we are still figuring out. We are looking forward to getting to the Exumas next, which are perfectly southeast of us. Guess where the wind is coming from for the foreseeable future… you guessed it… the southeast. And strong. We’d really like to do more sailing and less motoring, so we might need to get a little creative in our next float plan. Keep in touch for the juicy details.