Since listening to "The Path Between The Seas," by David McCullough (who also is the narrator in the movie "Seabiscuit") Chichi has wanted to transit The Canal.  It has been a priority of this trip.  For John, too, because he read the book ten years ago.  Here is what happened.

Monday:  we tell Stephie and Denny that we want to transit.  They tell Angie and Norbert, who invite us aboard, but, on Tuesday, they come back saying that they no longer have room for us.  We are depressed.  Angie tells Jean and Reg, who approach us on Thursday, saying they need us on Saturday.  Back on the upper side of life.  We could hardly talk. (Transiting boats are required to have four line handlers.)

Saturday, October 29, the memorable day:  Reg picks us up at 2:45.  On their boat, S-V Solana, we meet Jean and their friend Jack Crofton.  The brother of their son's wife, Tom Jonkman, is aboard, having sailed with them for a time.  The canal advisor is scheduled for 4:30.  We lift anchor at 4:15, circling until he arrives on the pilot boat at 4:50.  The advisor says, let's go, and we head to the channel under full power, with a huge container vessel right behind.  Humbly, we allow him to pass.  Slightly ahead of us is a catamaran, a Lagoon 500 (which means 50 feet).  The two advisors talk.  The Container vessel enters the Gatun Lock first, then the catamaran puts out four lines to hold it center.  Next in the lock is Wahoo, a canal push boat, which ties to the side..  We tie up to the push  boat, watch the lock gates close, and sit tight as whirl pools develop under us.  We repeat the process at the second Gatun lock.  Now we are a hundred feet higher in Gatun Lake. Time: almost 7, and pitch dark.  Reg and the advisor lead us to a mooring that is half the size of our boat. Tom steps on the mooring, taking a spring line from the bow and stern.  A pilot boat comes to take off the advisor.  We sit down for a first class meal, well thought out and delightful.  Though tired, we feel accomplished.

Reg and Jean Good are Canadians who own S/V Solana,  a Morgan OutIsland 41.  We have six aboard.  Reg fixed up our bunk in the middle of the main salon.  When not serving as a bunk, it is their main inside eating area.  The cockpit is spacious and comfortable, enclosed, when necessary, on all side by roll up plastic windows and canvas.  The beer and soft drinks in the styrofoam cooler allow us to relax, to talk, and to know each other.  

We hear Reg's alarm watch at 5:30.  The advisor is scheduled for 6, but arrives at 6:30 on another pilot vessel.   We are off for the 28 nautical miles across Gatun Lake, through the Galliard Cut to Pedro Miguel Locks, our first step down to The Pacific.  For  passengers, this is a relaxed ride, but Reg and the advisor keep a steady eye because north bound vessels are scheduled to pass us.  The advisor is Max Benavides.  This is his 24th transit since becoming an advisor two years ago.  He also works the dredging machines as "an oiler," and anachronistic term for engine mechanic.  He is training to be a first mate on a dredging team.  In this position, he will direct a team of workers, and receive higher pay.  Max smiles, gives canal history, and makes us feel comfortable.

The canal employs more than 40 advisors for small vessels.  Each takes no more than one vessel in a day.  Max got up at 3:30, reported to company headquarters in Panama City at 4:30 a.m.  A company car brought him to the pilot boat dock.  

As we approach the Pedro Miguel Locks, advisors tell us to raft with Lagoon 500.  We approach, tie breast lines at the bow, beam and stern, plus forward and aft spring lines.  We now are one vessel, with Solana to port.  The Lagoon has the power, and runs the show. Max tells us that the other advisor is boss.  In tandem, we approach the lock, with John on the bow.  Line handlers throw two heaving lines called Monkeys.  John ties the heaving line to our 250 foot, 3/4 inch docking line.  He holds the eye of the line until the advisor tells the handlers to drop the eye on bollards.  Then, using the heaving line, line handlers pull the docking line.  The docking line goes out, John guiding it.  After it is secured to the bollard, John pulls it in, wraps it around a cleat, and takes charge of controlling it.  A current in the lock wants our stern to move to port and our bow to move to starboard.  The line is tight, and hard to handle.  As we drop in the lock, line is let out.  No one is happy with our position in the lock because we are not facing perfectly forward.  We cannot improve the situation. Before moving out of Pedro Miguel, line handlers drop the docking lines, and we pull them in.  Handlers on the starboard side of Lagoon 500 are simultaneously doing the same thing.  The net is that we have four lines out to the sides of the lock, working to hold us center, with plenty of room between our boats and the hard, unforgiving concrete.

Before moving to Lake Miraflores, the small body of water between San Pedro Lock and Mira Flores Locks, we watch a north bound container vessel being pushed by three tugs to moorings.  He cannot continue until late afternoon when The Canal again permits ships to sail north.  For the next few hours, all vessels, like ourselves, sail south.  The two locks at Mira Flores take us down to The Pacific.  We all wave at the Mira Flores Locks web cam, hoping friends and family see us live and in person.  Again, we have trouble positioning ourselves straight and in the center.  We did our best.

The Pacific side lock gate opens a few inches.  The daily tide on the Pacific side is 14 feet or more, compared to hardly a foot on the Atlantic side.  This produces continuous changes and significant currents.  Slightly opening the lock gate achieves equilibrium faster than relying on the underground water conduits. The gate does not stop to open fully for almost five minutes. We separate from Lagoon 500, motor south, say good bye to Max, and finally moor at the Balboa Yacht Club.  We have transited one of the world's greatest human achievements:  The Panama Canal.  Construction cost the lives of thousands.  Only one week earlier, a public referendum put a 4 to 1 stamp of approval on a 15-year, $10 billion expansion that will permit the world's largest known and contemplated ships to move through.  

A life coincidence:  our taxi driver from The Euro Hotel to The Bus Terminal also is a mula driver.  A mula, or mule, is a powerful electric engine having internal cables that are fed to the bow and stern of large ships.  At least four mulas guide each ship.  For some, apparently the large ships, The Panamax Ships built to the edge of Panama Canal tolerance, eight mulas are used, four on a side.  They are locked on to rails.  The combination of lines, ratchets and rails withstand tons of pressure.  During the lock transit, the mulas propel ships and hold them perfectly in the center with less than a foot clearance on each side.  Drivers receive instructions by radio from the pilot who constantly looks fore and aft to measure clearance.  The relationship between mule driver, the position and tension of the mule and its lines, the ship, and the ship's Panama Canal pilot, is another monument to the engineering and organization skills of this magnificent waterway.

For Chichi and me, this first transit was profound.  We feel an attachment and respect.  We know some of the names, such as Ferdinand de Laseppes who gave it a try and failed; President Theodore Roosevelt who was the first president to leave the continental U.S. during his presidency, this to visit the canal construction site; John Stevens, the American engineer who stopped work until workers had good living conditions and recreational opportunities and who ordered doctors to find the sources of malaria and yellow fever; the physicians who stopped the diseases, at risk to their own lives; The French engineer Galliard who built The Culebra Cut (The Snake Cut) which now is named Galliard Cut.  Save for their skills and vision, these people were just like us.