While home alone for a week at Shelter Bay Marina, I met some friendly Italians on a steel-hulled double-ended sloop called S/V “Altrove.” They had an upcoming transit date and were in need of line handlers. I volunteered and let them know that a friend of mine, Samirah (a Brazilian girl we met on the flats a couple of weeks before), would be willing to come as well. The crew was set: it was me, Samirah (a professional foredeck hand and Olympic hopeful who has won a Rolex regatta), the circumnavigating Italian skipper Michele, his visiting friend Alessandro (a sailing instructor back in Italy), and their new friend Luisa, an Italian working as a crewmember on a private yacht. I was surrounded by highly experienced professionals! The boat was also a Babel with no lingua franca. The Italians spoke their language amongst themselves, Michele spoke to me and Samirah in a mix of Italian and Spanish, Samirah spoke a mix of Portuguese and Italian, and I did my best to speak Portuguese to Samirah, Spanish to Michele, and English to Alessandro and Luisa.
After motoring out of Shelter Bay Marina with the tire fenders tied to Altrove’s sides, we arrived in the good old industrial flats anchorage to wait for our Panamanian Transit Advisor. While we waited, I taught everyone how to play Texas Hold ‘Em Poker, and we used spare Farfalle butterfly pasta as chips, which seemed pretty stereotypical and funny.
The excellent Panamanian advisor Frank arrived around 6:00 PM, and we motored towards the Gatun locks that would raise us up to the lake. We rafted up to the starboard side of a large catamaran sailboat. Twice, the line handler at the port bow of the catamaran did not cleat off her line after taking in slack, and was unable to control the lateral movement of the sailboats. Altrove’s bow came within 20 feet of hitting the wall on the right side of the lock, but thankfully the catamaran’s other crewmembers were able to secure the line and no damage was done. The canal workers on the walls saw the Italian flag and yelled “spaghetti” and “lasagna” at us each time they took the lines, all the way through each of the 3 locks.
We made it up to the lake and onto a mooring after dark and were rewarded by a delicious, authentic penne dish prepared by the gifted cook and captain Michele. I made sure to write down the recipe.
The next day started before sunrise with the arrival of our next transit advisor, Julio. We started motoring through the well-marked channel in the lake, passing the jungle on the banks, and enormous freight and cruise ships that were headed the opposite direction towards the Atlantic. Michele let me steer for a few hours, and it was interesting to get used to the tiller (which is different from the wheel system aboard the WTP). The day flew by as we approached first the Pedro Miguel and then Miraflores locks. Our morning grogginess added to the language confusion and a couple of times our transit advisor resorted to charades to communicate.
Finally we made it through the last of the Miraflores locks- which were, along with the Pedro Miguel locks, a real let down (altitude loss joke credit- Alan).
Altrove passed under the Bridge of the Americas and we were through to the Pacific! We would have liked to have a nice farewell lunch together, but a poor reception at the crowded Flamenco Yacht Club made it necessary for me, Samirah, and Luisa to jump off Altrove’s bow and sneak out of the marina. The three of us split a cab to the bus terminal, caught a bus back towards Colon, and then another taxi back to the Shelter Bay Marina. I returned to the WTP well after dark and made the memory of Michele’s pasta shine all the brighter by fixing myself a dinner of warm water, powdered milk, and stale corn flakes.
I was happy to spend time with that crew and give a helping hand. Also, it was nice to have a practice run so that we would know what to expect for our own transit aboard the WTP. Alan, then Adam returned, and we were joined by Kelly and Deb, two of Adam’s friends from home who flew in from the U.S. They were excellent company and line handlers for our transit on March 20th. Our transit was enjoyable, uneventful, and well-documented (see “Our Canal Transit”).
After we were safely anchored on the Pacific side, Adam and Alan returned to Colon to serve as line handlers for our Polish friends aboard S/V “Mantra Asia.” I stayed an extra day then headed back to Colon to line handle for S/V “Wendy Ellen,” an American-flagged catamaran. Aboard were Wendy and Bobby, a friendly and fun retired couple who were sailing back to their home on the west coast of Mexico.
Just like our transit in the WTP, I handled an aft line. After the Panamanian ACP employee on the wall of the lock tossed me a monkey fist knot attached to the manila string, I tied it to our 120-foot line. I sent it when told. About half the time, the Panamanian would pass the eye of our line over the ballard before our rafted boats had completely stopped. It was up to the aft line handlers to gradually throttle the line so as not to stop suddenly and put too much strain on the cleats. One time, we were rafted up to two other boats and were moving about 2 knots when the eye went on the ballard. I put one wrap around the cleat and the strain wrung the water right out of the line. I made sure to keep my fingers clear, especially after our transit advisor told me some gristly (probably exaggerated) stories.
The third transit was a success and I ended up running into 3 transit advisors and a line handler that I had met on previous trips through the canal. Each transit was a very different experience that reflected the boat and crew. Overall I had a great time, learned a lot, and hope to be back someday to do a Pacific to Atlantic trip.