OCEAN TO OCEAN
A PANAMA CANAL TRANSIT BY YACHT IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME EXPERIENCE. WE GET ADVICE ON PLANNING THIS UNIQUE PASSAGE FROM SKIPPERS WHO’VE CROSSED RECENTLY
Romeo hops over the guardrail at sunset. Our young Panamanian advisor, here to guide us through the first three ascending locks of the Panama Canal, politely turns down a Coca Cola, and accepts a glass of warm water instead. We hoist the anchor, and begin motoring across
The Flats – a sweeping, artificial anchorage built around the industrial city of Colon, writes Max Campbell.
Never have I felt this nervous before a passage. The root of my fear is being dependent on Elixir’s little Volvo Penta engine, something I don’t fully understand. For some reason this terrifies me.
My parents have flown out especially for the passage. The Canal transit has been a ‘bucket list’ trip my stepdad has been itching to tick off. We reach the entrance to the first of the Agua Clara locks, and it’s completely dark. The monstrous chambers are lit by a line of aggressive orange lights, and for a moment I’m lost in the enormity of it all.
Our first challenge is to come up alongside a 50ft catamaran. I’ve always struggled with the prop walk on my S&S Swan 37 Elixir, and the stiff tradewind isn’t doing much to help. With another monohull on the far side, we combine our three vessels into one and move through the locks in a confusion of lines and fenders.
We enter the lock behind the rusting hulk of a car carrier – its great steel hull, only an arm’s reach from the concrete walls. As the door closes, it seems as if everything is towering above us. Three locks raise us to a dizzying height of 28m above sea level. Before we enter Gatun Lake, we bid farewell to Romeo. The night is spent secured to a big, yellow mooring buoy, surrounded by the demonic screams of howler monkeys.
By 0800 our new advisor, Raphael, has leapt on board and the engine won’t start. Yesterday’s solid run had shaken a few things around. Despite Raphael’s scowling from the cockpit, we find the loose grounding bolt. Within 10 minutes we’re hurrying through the isthmus of Panama, as the morning sun casts a stain on our improvised awning. Caymans dart across the channel, and all around us lies the endless tangle of Panamanian rainforest. This is the first time I’ve been inland on Elixir, and everywhere I look are dramatic views of the surrounding landscape. Vast tracts of jungle lead to rolling curves and deep channels gouged into the countryside.
It’s mid-afternoon when we arrive at the three descending locks. Instead of forming a raft, we’re instructed to enter the lock alone. Using our four, hired mooring lines, we park Elixir under the imposing bow of a Maersk cargo carrier. Four shore-based line-handlers lead Elixir from one lock to the next. After three slow descents, the final set of gates open, and for the first time in decades, Elixir’s hull parts the Pacific.