Monday, December 25, 2006

LET'S PANIC!!!!

When we finally made the decision to get a date for the Panama Canal transit, the scheduler said: "Today....." and my heart seemed to stop beating.  Until he continued "we don't have any slots" and I could almost breathe normally again.  We could have gone through two days later, but I asked to be scheduled for Wednesday, 20. December 2006.  Three days to find two more line handlers, buy polypropylene rope to hang the ten tires all around DHARMA BUM III, get the food shopping and preparation done, make space for all the people aboard, plus a multitude of smaller chores. 
 
We agreed that all would go under the motto:  LET'S PANIC!!!!
 
But somehow we stayed reasonably calm until just before and when the anchor came up without any major trouble, the line handlers and the advisor were on board, things were almost relaxed.  One of the reason was the advisor Rick, of Chinese ancestry, and making a very competent impression right from the start.  He explained everything beforehand, made drawings and asked questions to check that we understood.  Helmut from Austria had gone before, while Darrel and Loretta Smith from the Privilege 37 catamaran CANKATA were as new to the canal as we were.  Of course, it had become night by the time we took off.  Normal for a transit from the Caribbean to the Pacific side. 
 
First we waited for a cargo ship, but it came in so slow, that we went to the lock first.  When the ship was in, we approached the starboard wall, picked up lines, repeated the procedure on the other wall and as soon as we were secured the bell rang, the gates closed and water began to pour in.  The turbulences were impressive, but we were secured by our four heavy lines center-lock behind the freighter.  It went as smooth as a commercial.  The next two chambers were exactly the same and in no time at all we were in the Gatun lake, where Rick switched on his pocket-GPS and guided us to the huge mooring buoys. 
 
The pilot-boat shone their big searchlights onto the buoys and Darrel jumped across to fasten our lines.  Not as easy as it sounds, for although they are about three meters across, they are also covered with "Pelicanite" (guess what that is), which gets very slippery when wet and exudes fumes that make one wish for an oxygen-probe or at least a canary. 
 
All went well and we had a nice dinner in the cockpit.  Around midnight everybody was asleep. 
 
At 5:30 the next morning, I went into the two engine rooms, to top up motor- and transmission-oil, check the belts and the water.  Our speed in the canal was an average of 6.5 knots, but the Panama Canal Authority ACP insists that the boat must be able to make 8 knots when going full speed.  An Irishman we met in Colon had to pay an extra US$ 850, as his boat was so slow that he couldn't transit the canal in the required time.  I had no intention of emulating his experience. 
 
About an hour later, an elderly advisor and a young trainee, both of African ancestry, jumped on board carrying with them all kinds of dirt on their shoes, for it had just rained heavily.  The stench from the mooring buoy got almost overpowering.  Unfortunately, things went steadily downhill from there.  The trainee was polite and friendly, but whenever he gave me instructions, the advisor countermanded them.  Rick had told us, that we should always stay inside the channel on the starboard side, as it was ACP policy that all vessels should pass port to port. 
 
This new advisor, however, had us sometimes on the starboard side, sometimes on the port side and at other times completely out of the channel.  He was fond of short-cuts and continually urged me to go at full speed, even when already inside the lock, only to say a second later that I should reverse.  He was definitely getting on everybody's nerves, probably most on those of his trainee. 
 
The trip through the lake was beautiful, as the drowned jungle with wisps of mist and cloud looked positively enchanted.  We sighted one alligator, which swam close to shore and we really enjoyed that part of the passage through the canal. 
 
At around 11:30 a.m. we arrived at the downhill locks with no other boat or ship in sight.  To our great surprise, we didn't have to wait at all, but went through all alone, which didn't quite go as smoothly as with our previous advisor Rick.  First, the new advisor wanted to persuade me to go down along the wall, which I refused.  Fortunately the captain of a vessel has the final say in all these decisions.  That didn't please the advisor and when we went in the lock, something didn't work out with the communication between advisor, trainee and the line handlers on shore.  We were tied up at an awkward angle, so that I constantly had to reposition the boat with the help of my two 40 HP Volvo-Penta engines.  Good to have in moments like that.  When sailing, we don't use them at all, as the solar panels and the wind generator supply all the electricity we need. 
 
While we were in the last lock and everybody was busy as hell, the advisor announced repeatedly - and with a louder voice each time - that it was time to eat and created quite unnecessary stress that way.  Needless to say, he ate at least twice the amount of his trainee or anybody else on board. 
 
Still, we made it to the Pacific without mishap and by 2:00 p.m. we dropped anchor behind Flamenco Island.  You can't believe how happy we were to be back in the Pacific one more.  The change was almost startling.  Not only are the tides extremely high on this side, but when you look at Panama City with its skyscrapers, wide avenues, trees and parks, you can't quite believe that it belongs to the same country as slum-like and outright dangerous Colon. 
 
After a couple of days, we re-anchored on the other side of the causeway, because it is a lot more protected.  Also there are a lot more boats at La Playita de Amador.  Here we ran into Dennis and Linda from DREAM MAKER, who are taking care of our sails which got badly damaged in the storm off Colombia. 
 
We made a trip to the Balboa Yacht Club, which is booked out for two weeks and were put on a waiting list.  While Dennis, Liping and Aurora Ulani went food shopping at the local REY Supermercado, I talked to my family back in Flensburg.  They had already started on their Christmas dinner. 
 
When it was dark, Santa Claus came to DHARMA BUM III as well.  Aurora Ulani ripped off the gift wrapping from her bicycle - she is riding it in the spacious cockpit right now - and the brown furry rabbit, the boat got a foresail made of Mylar, Liping got a nice dinner ashore and I finally got a speargun.  Karl and the delicious dinners of Big Eye had convinced us, that a speargun was not only a necessary survival-tool, but helps to enrich the food supply considerably. 
 
So we made Christmas in the Pacific after all and if we get the visa for French Polynesia in reasonable time, we can soon take off for the Marquesas and the South Seas.  We really are looking forward to that trip! 
 
Latitude: 08°54.61'N  Longitude: 079°31.54'W

Sunday, December 17, 2006

DHARMA BUM III going through the Panama Canal

Ho guys,
 
We'll be starting to go through the canal in the dark, on Wednesday, 20. December 2006 at around 5:00 pm Panama time (UTC: 10:00 pm, Germany: 11:00 pm, Taiwan: Thursday, 21. December 2006 at around 6:00 am).  As the locks are very well lit, you might be able to spot us at:
 
 
 
If possible, I´d like a copy of a photo of DHARMA BUM III going through the Panama Canal.  :-)
 
 
Cheers!
 
Holg

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Bequia --> Panama

After about seven months in Trinidad we sailed to Bequia, where we spent almost another month in pretty much perfect surroundings.  Excellent holding ground, lobsters and moray-eels living right under the boat, the beach white and fringed with palm-trees - one could get used to that.  Plenty of charter boats and sky-high prices, though. 
 
Anyway, the GRIB-Files indicated reasonably good weather for the next eight days and so we weighed anchor and took off towards Panama.  Liping took just 25 mg Meclizine Hydrochloride and didn't have any problems with sea-sickness whatsoever.  Aurora Ulani had to throw up about three times for the first three days and I was slightly nauseous for about four or five days.  Fortunately that was it. 
 
All went smoothly until we came into the vicinity of Maracaibo in Venezuela.  However, as soon as we were off Colombia, conditions began to deteriorate.  Not that we had squalls or the usual kinds of bad weather.  It stayed pretty much sunny all the way until we reached Panama.  It was just that the wind got stronger and stronger. 
 
When we had steady 40 knots, I began to take in sail and thought that things would soon go down to 35 knots or, preferably, a tad lower.  Instead, the winds picked up until we had steady 50 knots with mountainous following seas (my guess is between five and eight meters).  I was amazed, because I just could not believe that we were having this kind of weather in the Caribbean - and with the sun shining to boot. 
 
We had noticed that the winds picked up as soon as it got dark and the instruments seemed to bear out this observation.  All seemed to be going reasonably well, until I noticed that this time the wind climbed up from the 50+ knots to 60 knots.  (We had just the tiniest scrap of the jib up, because otherwise we would go sideways to the seas.  We surfed at 15+ knots at that time.)  That's when I finally got really scared, because the word hurricane kept popping up in my head.  And after the typhoon we experienced in September 1994 in Taiwan (a window blew out, glass pierced the plywood I put to replace the window, sofa & arm-chairs flew away, a heavy steel washing machine disintegrated &c. &c. ) I had absolutely no illusions as to what would happen to us, if we were in the dangerous semicircle of a hurricane. 
 
Blue water came over the deck and more than once a wave broke right into our cockpit.  Unfortunately our sails suffered badly as well.  The jib developed a hole, which enlarged itself within seconds to impressive proportions, but I didn't dare to take it all in.  Earlier on the main had ripped itself off the first three mast-sliders.  I was sitting at the wheel in foul-weather gear, harness and life-line, in order to correct our course if the boat should get out of control while surfing.  When things were at their worst, that happened every two minutes or so.  I had the feeling that we might not make it this time.  Fortunately it was only my fear speaking. 
 
In the morning I saw a cargo-ship beating towards weather (probably bound for Cartagena) and making heavy work of it.  I called the captain on the VHF and asked for the weather report.  He was kinda busy at the time, but about half an hour later he came back and read it to me.  Surprisingly the weather report talked of only 25 to 35 knots of wind and a maximum swell of 4 meters.  No change for the next 48 hours.  When he signed off, the captain shouted: "Good luck!!!"
 
It took us a little while to get to Panama and while the situation got slightly better, it never got reasonably comfortable.  At any time, the winds would go up to 40 or even above 50 knots, while the sea was confused and exceedingly boisterous.  And, of course, it was around midnight when we arrived.  Nothing to do, but take down all sail and wait for daylight. 
 
We reported to Cristobal Signal Station, had to wait for one cargo-ship to go through the small entrance and anchored in the flats not much later.  
 
~~~~~
 
What we got to hear in the few days since we arrived, has made us reevaluate the whole experience.  Nobody here remembers anything like this storm.  Of 18 yachts in the anchorage, 16 dragged anchor and one yacht got lost and sank (divers floated her again already).  Three cargo-ships got thrown ashore.  Two biggies collided out in the roads and most of them left to avoid a similar fate.  Apparently 16 people died here as a direct result of the weather. 
 
~~~~~
 
We have had our boat measured today and we are thinking of going through the Panama Canal in a week or so.  It'll take two days, but we know that the Pacific is waiting on the other side and we are more than eager to sail on to the South Seas once more. 
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