Returning from our instructive two-day stint as volunteer line-handlers, we quickly went into preparation, not only for the canal transit, but also for our 4-day crossing to Costa Rica and beyond. Eric and Bryce rearranged exterior gear (extra anchors and outboard motor) to clear Kandu’s topside and provide easier access. They also obtained enough diesel to last through the Canal, into northern Costa Rica, and eventually southern Mexico.

Food preparation we learned was a very important aspect of the transit as it’s a requirement that we furnish quality hot meals to the two advisors and our professional line handlers (2 extra young hungry men), including sealed water-bottles (water from boat tanks could harbor unintended bacteria) plus the ‘quality’ meals needed to include meat, i.e.: breakfasts with eggs and sausage. Because I was also acting as a line handler (Remember: we were required to have 4 handlers plus the captain), I heavily provisioned and pre-cooked several dishes (as Captain Bill Broyle had done) before disembarking from Shelter Bay Marina.

Our rented lines and fenders arrived the day before our departure, giving us plenty of time to set them up. In fact, our passage through the locks would be rather prosaic having already motored through the locks on the same make of boat – Tayana V42’. And unlike our last experience, little wind was predicted to shove us around.

Transit day 1, fully prepared to leave the marina and start our adventure, at noon we welcomed aboard our two hired line handlers. Upon our request, we were thrilled to have Santiago Zorrilla join us. As instructed by our transit agent, we casted off our dock lines around 1:00 pm, left the marina, anchored in the bay off the yellow buoy, and notified the Port Authority of our readiness. They responded with our advisor’s expected arrival time.

Two hours later we received not one, but two, advisors: a trainer and his trainee. “Two for the price of one,” the senior advisor proclaimed with a kindly grin. Once aboard and introduced, we awaited permission to proceed. The advisors combed over their documentation, a list of all the ships transiting the canal that day. Over their walkie-talkie radios, they were told which commercial ship would be our ‘lock-buddy’ and at what time we needed to be at the first lock.

The advisors kindly asked us to weigh anchor and head quickly to the bridge, several miles away. Having done all this before, but with less wind interference and with two experienced professional line-handlers, a relaxed mood pervaded onboard. We knew the next challenge would be just past the bridge where we’d perform the ‘dance of the raft.’ 

It wasn’t until our anchors were up and we were in motion did we see who our rafting buddy-boats would be: two French catamarans. Would we be the center boat flanked by cats, or would we be on the end? Only time would tell. As we passed the bridge, approaching the first of three locks, with no pesky winds pushing us in strange directions, we were calmly instructed to raft up with the larger cat in the middle. First the little blue cat rafted to the port side of the large white cat. Their line-handlers were not as skilled as ours, and this took a bit of time. The fact that the little blue cat had tires instead of fenders indicated they were on a budget. But we had time. Being large and sturdy, the middle catamaran easily powered and steered the two, holding position as we gently came up to her starboard side and rafted.

Once all were secured into a single raft, I heard the familiar voice of the same advisor that had so adeptly guided our raft with Captain Bill. Our circumstances couldn’t have been more superb. As he instructed the three captains, but mostly the center cat captain, the raft proceeded directly into the locks behind our commercial ‘lock-buddy’ ship. Messenger lines were cast, caught, and tied to our rented dock line bowlines without ado.

The canal workers walked along the lock chamber at our forward pace, holding the other end of the messenger lines. On the advisor’s signal, the lock workers pulled their messenger lines up and with them, our extra-long dock lines as our line-handlers eased them out. Once the bowline of the dock line was draped over the bollard, our line-handlers, one forward and one aft, quickly took in the slack and secured their respective lines. Our line handlers, Santiago and Juan, were in full control, so Bryce and I were able to take videos and pictures to capture the moment.

As the water level in the chamber raised, Santiago and Juan compensated by tightening the loosing dock lines, keeping the raft in the middle of the lock. Captain Eric and our advisors hardly had anything to do!

This sequence repeated itself two more times before we exited the third and final of the Gatun locks.

Fortunately this time, we had plenty of daylight left to enjoy a bit of Lake Gatun as we motored to the over-night mooring buoy. Surrounded by lush greenery, Lake Gatun is a peaceful sanctuary for water-birds, howler monkeys and alligators (no swimming). Surprisingly, the passing ships make very little noise.

Boats wishing to transit the canal are required to maintain a minimum speed of 5 knots (6 mph). If not, the owner must make other arrangements to transport his/her yacht from one ocean to the other, usually by truck. But even at 6kts, we’re not able to transit the canal in one day. We’re required to moor to one of two mooring buoys specifically designed to hold two sailboats each. Two miles west of the last lock, the mooring buoys are large, made of PVC plastic, and very sturdy. Two to three people can jump onto one without concern of tipping. And the plastic surface makes it possible to tie up without scratching your boat. With fenders positioned amid ship to keep us off the buoy, the professional line-handlers run one rented line from the bow, through the mooring buoy’s extra-large shackle, and back to the center of the boat. A second line is run from the stern through the same shackle on the mooring buoy, and again to the boat’s center. If another boat is to share the mooring, a common occurrence, the line-handlers tie both bows and sterns together, one line each, so that bow and stern of both boats remain equidistant from each other through the night.

The meals that I prepared in advance turned out perfectly and aplenty especially considering that we had two unforeseen ‘trainee’ advisors to feed. Yes, even on our second day transit, we had the good fortune to have another trainer-trainee set. I served chicken and vegetable curry with rice plus salad for dinner the first night, sausage and egg breakfast with pre-fried onion potatoes for the second day’s breakfast, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with coleslaw for lunch, and spaghetti with a heavy meat and tomato sauce for the second night’s dinner, all accompanied with tons of salty snacks, cookies, candy bars and even soft drinks. Eric, Bryce and I felt spoiled ourselves with all the naughty eatin’!

The second day offered a little different scenario. Whereas the advisors of the previous day seem to be in sync and in accord, this day would prove otherwise. Unbeknownst to us, the day-two advisor now on the little blue cat had previously been suspended for issues related to his poor advisory skills. This was his first day back after a year. Once each boat had its respective advisor(s) on board, we untied from the mooring buoys and headed off, with great haste, to the first lock more than 25 nautical miles away. Independently but in casual line up, each boat made its way to the Pacific side of Lake Gatun. As we approached another large spanning bridge ahead of the next set of locks, it signaled again the staging area for rafting-up, but unlike last time, the little blue cat didn’t wait for the large white cat, and proceeded directly to the entrance of the first lock, Pedro Miguel. This was particularly odd behavior considering we were nearly 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Our ‘lock-buddy’ ship saw the little blue cat and proceeded to approach the lock, narrowing our gap.

The white cat and we sped up, but the inexperience of the line-handlers on both cats and the naughty advisor acting on his own, nearly crushed the blue cat’s stern into the wall, which delayed their ability to receive us. As we all approached too closely the steel barrier of the lock’s entrance, we were asked by the white cat’s line-handlers to turn around, go out, and come back when they were ready for us. Our advisor spoke via radio to the pilot on our commercial ‘lock-buddy’ ship to ask his/her intentions. The ship pilot said they’d have the tugs push the ship up against the wall to allow us all to exit, re-group, raft, and re-enter. Our advisor thanked the pilot and asked the other advisors to come out into wider waters. At the same time, our advisor asked Eric to motor full throttle away from the lock, past the ship before the thrust of the tugs pushed us into the wall. The advisor on the little blue cat then hailed our ‘lock-buddy’ ship’s pilot and said they were ready to go without us.

Our advisor was frustrated. Considering the erratic behavior of the rogue advisor, our advisor suggested we’d be safer waiting and taking two more hours to transit than if we were to raft with an unpredictable advisor. Eric and I agreed, and besides, the commercial ship’s pilot, having accepted the blue cat advisor’s explanation, had already proceeded to enter the lock, closing us off. Kandu would go through the locks without another sailboat rafted to its side. All four dock lines would now have to be monitored, not just relying on our pros. But having already gone through the process so many times, I was confident in my line-handling abilities and excited by the additional responsibility.

Waiting a couple of hours being tied to the wall, we took the opportunity to video chat with a high school French class at Trent’s school in Southern California. Bryce being of their age and fluent in French, we just handed the phone to him. Not every day does a classroom get to speak with a sailboat in the midst of transiting the Panama Canal, right? Anyway, chat time over, our new ‘lock-buddy’ ship approached and the lock handlers appeared with their messenger lines. It was game day for the crew of Kandu. Bryce caught my messenger line and handed it over to me. I tied my bowline to the messenger line like a professional (even more quickly than the professionals, I think – lol!) and then stayed alert as the lock handlers walked our four lines down the chamber in step with Kandu. When signaled by our advisor’s whistle, I sent our aft starboard polypropylene dock line back to the lock handler which he secured to a giant bollard, then I quickly pulled-in the loose line and cleated it down. Yippee, I did it! And furthermore, I repeated my efforts to great effect 2 more times!

Eric actually had a bit of excitement steering us straight in the last lock, which tends to be the hardest. The last lock was squirrely with current not because of wind but because our ‘lock-buddy’ ship, while short, was enormous top to bottom, and side to side. So wide, only two feet of water on either of her sides separated it from the lock’s 100-year-old concrete walls. She encumbered the entire lock in depth and width, so that when from behind us she moved forward like a hydraulic plunger, the water in the lock pushed forcefully forward spiriting us erratically and rapidly toward the closed lock doors straight ahead. Eric steered Kandu in full reverse adjusting for the current, and still we came a little too close. Just 20 feet before the doors, us line handlers halted our forward progress with masterful handling of the lines!!! Whoop, whoop!

Although we had hoped to complete our transit by 4 p.m. that day, the situation with the rogue advisor caused a delay that didn’t have us leaving the last lock until twilight, just as it had been with Captain Bill. Another long day for all of us. Leaving the lock, I served spaghetti dinner to the handlers and the advisors. Now in the Pacific again after having been away for 2 years, we motored near to the Balboa Yacht Club, about 3.5 nm, the rendez-vous spot to drop off our line-handlers and the rented equipment. Once in pick-up position, it was another 45 minutes before our advisors were also collected. Exhausted and hungry, Eric, Bryce and I,  happily alone again on Kandu, proceeded toward the Balboa Yacht Club waters to find a mooring buoy for the next two nights.

That evening, under a full moon, securely moored in the dark water of the Balboa Yacht Club…after we ate our spaghetti with meat sauce and I had my celebratory glass of wine, I went outside for a quiet moment to soak it all in…to reflect on all that we had accomplished since Gibraltar. Somehow, I had the distinct feeling that I had been there before. Well, in fact, I had been there on s/v Taopaowith Captain Bill. Our passage through the canal went so smoothly comparatively, that it felt anti-climactic. I was actually embarrassed with myself for feeling let down. Eric, Bryce and I had talked about and planned our transit through the Panama Canal ad nauseum for five months since arriving in Gibraltar. And WE FINALLY DID IT! We transited the Panama Canal bringing us back into the Pacific Ocean, but now it was done. Mission Accomplished. Fait accompli. Quest over. I felt so weird inside, as if I was missing something. As if I had been engaged in an opera as the lead where the rehearsals and performances were finished and my ‘opera’ family built over three months had split-up. However, fortunately for me, my family in this production was still intact; Eric, Bryce, myself and Kanduwere all still together…for a little bit longer.

Two days later, we set sail for northern Costa Rica.

By Leslie Dennis-Rigney with additions from Eric Rigney