Post Canal Blues / La Playita

[Kyle]After a late finish to our canal transit, try as we might, we couldn’t get out of bed the following morning before 10:00 (possibly much later!). We tidied up the boat and then went about addressing our mechanical problems. The port transmission was easy. The little wire through the pin that connects the cable and the shift arm on the transmission broke. I replaced it with a beefier one and it’s now back in commission.

{Maryanne: The engine problems had been so frustrating and embarrassing..., not to mention potentially very dangerous. Luckily everything had worked (with one work around or another) when we needed it to, but we like and need a reliable boat - we needed to address this and get to the bottom of everything that wasn't working so well!}

The starting problem was a little more vexing. We got out the electrical tester and slowly started eliminating one cause or the other. During a break in the process, I discovered that our starboard shower/bilge pump was no longer working either. I’d have to deal with that later.

Eventually, we determined that the problem was that our starting battery was just dead. Not discharged, dead. The start button repair was not related. It was just a confusing coincidence. Our final confirmation came when I hooked up our spare new bilge pump (which Maryanne insisted I carry home in my luggage) to the battery terminals directly and nothing happened except the voltage plummeted from 12.9V to 2V. {Maryanne: This had us perplexed since the voltage was reading well on the start battery so it wasn't 'dead' in the traditional sense, it was just the voltage was not really available as soon as any load was put on the battery - after eliminating shorts, and poor connections and everything else we could think of, we were left with it MUST be the battery itself that was at fault - despite working on our return to Panama and putting the boat back in the water, that must have been pretty much it's last breath. It was old, and it had spent the winter in the baking sun doing nothing at all.... I guess it was time.}

It was good to know what the problem was, but batteries are heavy and that one is in the back. Extracting it would be on tomorrow’s list. I replaced the new bilge pump, which for some reason had complication after complication that required I dig out more parts and more tools. We were back in the yard again. Since I was already working, I fitted a non-return valve into the port engine bilge discharge line too. When we were done, it was dark, I was exhausted and all I wanted was a shower.

The following morning we woke up naturally just before sunrise. After coffee and breakfast, I extracted the start battery from its home while Maryanne dropped the dinghy. We then rowed the thing to shore to see what we could figure out.

We got lucky. There’s a chandler right next to the dinghy dock, and they had batteries in stock. We paid for it, but batteries are heavy. I was in no mood to take a cab all of the way to the Battery District to save $20, or $50. This way, we were able to have them hold our purchase until we got back, so we could take a little walk around.

La Playita lies at the end of a long causeway that runs alongside the entrance channel to the Miraflores Locks and connects with the mainland. Apart from a couple of spots where they’re trying to cater to the Infinity crowd, the place seems pretty nice. The dinghy dock is reasonable, especially after having been in Shelter Bay. There are a few affordable restaurants and a mini mart where you can get wifi if you spend $3. The tables outside seem to be the sailor’s hangout. We were hungry, so we had a nice meal at a Colombian restaurant (also with wifi!) then returned for our battery.

Scenes around our new home...

After doing the morning’s battery extraction procedure in reverse, we found that it cracked the problem. Begonia is a fully functioning boat again.

Panamá Canal – Day Two

[Kyle]6:30am came and went with no sign of our advisor. So did 7:30, and then 8:30. Our guys seemed totally unconcerned. Rick said this happens a lot during the dry season. They wait to pile up boats to save water. Jakker gave up and one after another of them jumped in for a swim. The guys hung out on the trampoline talking in animated Spanish. It was Eric’s birthday, so Maryanne baked him a surprise Pineapple Upside-down Cake while I read to her. He had no idea it was coming until the finished product – complete with a candle - arrived. I think it’s a trip he’ll remember.

Afterward, it was 10:30 with still no sign of life from the Pilot Station, so I decided to have a go at resoldering the starboard start button again. I tried and tried, and was sure I had a good, strong connection, but the engine wouldn’t start. Actually, now neither engine would start. I tried the screwdriver thing on each and that didn’t work either. It was now 12:30 and we were all pretty sure our Advisor would be there soon. As a last-ditch option, we have a button that ties all of the batteries together for emergency starting.

Hurry Up and wait....

Our house batteries were fairly low. Our wind generator had it’s blades removed and the solar panel was covered in a cushion to protect against impact of the monkey fists (it’s just a kind of knot. No monkeys were harmed…) that are used to weigh down the ends of the leader lined tossed down by the lock crew. We had also had lights on all night so the guys could find their way around.

Well, we still were able to muster enough amperage to crank an engine and get the alternator charging, and then we cranked the next. Our Advisor, Amaldo, showed up ten minutes later, with orders to go as fast as we could. I couldn’t help but think, “Well, if you were here six hours ago…”

Never mind. Off we went, chugging across beautiful Lake Gatun. We cut every available corner as we followed the channel through the islands. There’s no recreation on the protected lake and the canal traffic is told to keep moving. It’s a shame. It’s such a pretty place. Infinity charged ahead, clearly trying to ditch us. Jakker made a much slower getaway. We could still see them when we got to the Guilliard Cut, winding its way across the Continental Divide.

As we approached the end of Lake Gatun, a huge black ship called the Mobil Pearl passed us. We fell in behind her, and then she slowed down to make a tight turn. She passed us again on the next straightaway only to be left behind again on the next turn.

Eventually we are moving... But it will take a few hours to get to the first lock

At the Guilliard Cut, there was no more room for passing, so they fell in behind. She would be our lock mate for the drop to the Pacific.

Passing through cuts and under the Centenial Bridge

We arrived at the Pedro Miguel Lock just before sunset. We were told there was a delay because one of the ships ahead was having engine trouble. There were still four ships ahead of us and the black Pearl. Infinity could be seen up ahead. I kind of wanted to go through with them just to see their disappointment at it, but mostly I didn’t.

The Pedro Miguel Lock.. eventually!

We rafted up to Jakker and Begonia was now engine #1 and #2 of a three-engined trimaran. We got permission to enter, but just before we got there, we were told to turn around and wait. We made a flawless turn around in the tight space between the edge of the channel and the adjacent Pearl. Then we were told we would be going around a couple of tugs, through their wash, and tying up to the wall to wait. It went so well! We both did it like we drove this weird, three-engine contraption all of the time.

At the starboard wall, our lines were handed over for that side. The guys on the port side had to throw their lines a long way. One of the guys kept winding up and winding up, only to fall short. The advisors and the lock guys on our side were teasing them. I was in the galley washing dishes, only half paying attention when BOOM! The monkey fist hit the cabin square in the side. I was in the middle of a big drum and I almost jumped out of my shoes! With lines attached, we entered Pedro Miguel Lock and the Mobil Pearl was brought in snug behind us. One step down and we were in the one-mile long Miraflores Lake.

We stayed nested for the trip across the lake. I think we were both starting to enjoy our three-engine boat.

Our final two locks were the Miraflores Locks. I was setting up for another nested center locking when our advisor kept giving me instructions to stay close to the wall. The lockkeeper had decided at the last minute that we would be tying to the side, with Jakker outside of Begonia. We were not ready for or expecting this. (Our Advisor later told us it was not supposed to be done, especially with catamarans). This is where having professional guys that do this three times a week really paid off. They knew exactly what to do and changed everything over without a hitch, all while the Mobil Pearl was bearing down on us. They were sooo good to have around.

After that, it was decided it would be safer to split up the raft and tie to the sidewall with Begonia and Jakker fore and aft for the last lock. Again, Maryanne and I didn’t have to do anything except watch the guys handle it for us. As the water calmed, I looked up at our masthead and saw the waxing gibbous moon almost straight overhead. The doors parted and a slight sliver of the Pacific came into view in the floodlit waters on the other side. Then they opened like a movie curtain and we were suddenly in the waters of the Pacific Ocean.

We motored out into the darkness away from the lock. The Mobil Pearl passed us again, for good this time. To our left over the city, a huge fireworks display started. Wow! That was really nice of them to do that for us! Amaldo told us the fireworks were by the ACP to commemorate the end of their summer concert season. Summer concert season? Okay, Buddy.

The fireworks finished their Grand Finale. The pilot boat came to pick up Amaldo, and then Rick directed us to his pickup at the Balboa Yacht Club.

The launch came and the tires and lines were thrown in. Then it was hasty goodbyes and the three of them made mad leaps to the lurching boat. Suddenly, it was just the two of us again. I put the engines into gear, but the port remained in neutral. The port transmission was not shifting at all. We were so glad that hadn’t happened the last time we tried to shift, in the canal with that big ship behind us.

Finally we made it, and fireworks welcome us to the Pacific Ocean!

We motored the last six miles to our anchorage at La Playita using only the starboard engine, dropped the anchor and backed down as best we could. It was after midnight.

Made it - proper blog and photos to follow...

All is well with Begonia and Crew. The Advisor arrived 6 hours late, and then many further delays and confusions followed, but we made it!

Happily bobbing around anchored in the Pacific and fixing all the latest problems before we head off to some local islands for some relaxation.

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

Abandoned in The Panama Canal?

Yesterday (Saturday) we transitted the first set of locks of the Panama Canal (Gatun locks) - leaving the Caribbean/Atlantic seas and heading up into the fresh water Gatun Lake. As our advisor left us that evening, we were told to be ready in the morning for a 6:30am start, he even ordered his breakfast.

Bright and early we rose and stepped over our line handlers who had ignored the beautiful berths we had prepared for them and were sleeping outside in the fresh breeze. 6:30 came, and went, as did 9am, and now 11am. Clearly that has been a change of plan but we are not privy to it, we are just waiting for someone to appear and advise us - hopefully we will go through today.

In the mean time we celebrate the birthday of Eric, one of our line handlers and swim to cool off in the lake (the assure us the fresh water crocodiles are NOT interested in us).

Anyone attempting to follow along - we are told that with our Panama canal number, our progress can be followed. I'm sure a google search will give you more information. I have no internet except through our SSB right now, hence this brief post - if anyone notices it, please can you add this information to my Facebook page so others can follow?

Panama canal Ship Identification Number is 3013869 (Google away and you should be able to to find out where we are located and if we eventually move)

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

Panamá Canal - Day One

[Kyle]We spent the morning making last minute preparations for our crew. At lunch, we finally made it into Shelter Bay’s pool for the first time ever. We have been so busy here, but we were finally done and we were not leaving until we had been in the pool just one time. We spent the rest of the day waiting around wishing we could just get going, already.

Roy met us at two o’clock with the tires, lines, linehandlers and the final schedule for the day. For the first time, we found out we would be going through with two other boats: Jakker, a 42-foot monohull from Belgium, and Infinity a 98-foot monohull flying the Maltese flag. Jakker were not clients of Roy’s, but they were half a dozen slips down from us, so we popped over to introduce ourselves and let them know what we knew. Infinity was apparently already at the designated anchorage for picking up their Canal Pilot (Vessels under 65’ have Advisors that advise the Captain, Vessels over 65’ have Canal Pilots that assume command within the canal). Roy explained that we would probably go rafted to Jakker, while Infinity went separately center chamber in the same lock. He said there was also a possibility that all three boats would be rafting together with Infinity in the center. We would all be in the space left over behind a big ship.

Our linehandlers, Eric, Ric(k), and Ic, Wait, that last one was Norberto – Roy’s brother-in-law, dropped off the lines and tires, then left for sodas at the store while we spoke to Roy.

I was wanting to leave fifteen minutes early to be sure we would make it on time, but the guys returned literally at the last minute. Roy had already padded the schedule, so we had nothing to worry about.

Or did we? My first attempt at starting the starboard engine failed. We immediately knew Maryanne’s solder job on the start button must have failed again as she reinstalled the panel. I dove down below, threw the bunk cushions and engine covers into the hall and started the engine by jumping the solenoid contacts with a screwdriver again. We only lost a minute or so.

Soon, we were out of the marina and headed across Colón harbor to the Flats Anchorage to pick up our advisor. Already waiting there at anchor were Jakker and Infinity. We shifted to neutral and drifted with the wind. About five minutes later, we saw the Pilot Launch approaching. Begonia was their last stop.

Begonia finally headed for our first lock, and those giant metal things are the lock gates for the new, bigger lock currently under construction.

We met our Advisor, Ricardo, who was very nice. He asked if everything was okay. I told him I couldn’t shut down the starboard engine now that it was running, but that otherwise everything was in working order. He told us to start moving immediately toward the Gatun Locks, about five miles away. He explained that their plan was to have the three boats raft together to go through in what they call a nest. They were having trouble with Infinity and their Pilot, though. Infinity wanted to go through alone. We spent the next five miles listening to arguments with their Pilot, who was coming up with one reason after another why they had to be alone. His first was that it was unsafe because the combined beam of the three boats was eighty feet – too wide for the one hundred-ten foot wide locks. This was complete hogwash. Ricardo could see the beams in the ACP’s (Autoridad Canal de Panamá) system. A little math came up with a combined beam of fifty-five feet. Infinity’s pilot’s next argument was that it was unsafe to have a monohull on one side and a catamaran on the other for no particular reason. Again, he was shot down. He then started with threats of “reporting this abuse to the Agency”. It was pretty clear from the tone of all of the intervening conversation that what it really was was that they didn’t want us touching their nice yacht.

Gutan double lock - we travelled as one of 3 boats "center locking"

Ricardo was perfectly calm throughout all of this. He knew it was none of their decision. When the Lockkeeper was brought into the conversation, he was firm: Infinity could go through nested with the other two boats, who would be going through today, or they could wait another day. If their paint was that important to them, they could duck out and come back later.

Well, it wasn’t, so they caved and agreed to let us raft up. They greeted us with utter contempt and disgust. They were the type of rich people that give rich people a bad name – snobs. On board, they had six people: The two owners, a professional Captain, the Pilot and two crew; one male, one female, all of whom glowered at us as we approached. The male crew started off by trying to tie lines to every weak spot on Begonia and threatening our linehandlers with fines if they left a mark in the paint or even touched Infinity while handing over our lines. I let out an uncontrollable snort of disbelief and got a glare when I told him to rearrange the lines to Begonia’s strong points.

Their Captain seemed as worried as he was annoyed, but managed to do an excellent job of steering the raft into the first lock. It was decided that the lock lines would go to Infinity in the center. All Jakker and Begonia had to do was float up already tied to Infinity.

Once we got into the lock and the Atlantic Ocean had been shut out, the water from Lake Gatun boiled in and we all started to rise. Infinity’s occupants were not taking the matter seriously and were running around taking pictures and chatting. Several times their Pilot and both of our Advisors had to yell at them to keep their bow lines tight and not just walk away. One woman from Jakker boarded Infinity and tended to one of their stern lines while their female crew managed the other. Their poor Captain had to maintain position with engine and bow thrusters. They also had lines of insufficient length per the ACP requirements. Ricardo tells me they will likely be fined for that.

We later decided their male crew must have a family member of son of a good friend - he was threatening and abusive to the canal employees and was completely derelict in his duty. If he were professional crew, we were sure he would have been fired long ago. He did have a way of acting like it really was his boat.

On the second lock of the three, the owner was staring down at us with a frown. Maryanne asked how he was doing. There was a long pause, and then he said, “fine” in a way that clearly meant he was not fine. He then asked me how much I paid for our transit, clearly meaning that it must be a pittance compared to him and he shouldn’t have to come into contact with the likes of us vagabonds as a result. Maryanne loosened them up a little more, but they never lost an opportunity to make one backhanded comment after another about how we were belly button lint.

After the final lock doors opened into Lake Gatun, their male crew immediately started to untie us. When the Pilot, our advisors, me and even their Captain yelled at him to wait until we were out of the lock into clear water, he looked at me and answered everyone by fake gushing, “Well, of course! I would never untie until YOU told me to!”

When he was finally given the all-clear, he threw us our lines and with a big fake smile and wave yelled, “GOODBYE! Bon Voyage! Have a nice trip!”

Their poor Pilot. I could only imagine that he must have felt like he scored the plum assignment of the three when his launch pulled up to Infinity. In the end, he was charged with babysitting a bunch of spoiled brats who spent the whole time trying to order him around. Infinity is no doubt a beautiful boat, but it is nowhere near a happy boat. Afterward, Ricardo commented that the women on Infinity really did do a good job handling their lines.

Once we were free of them, we shared a mooring ball with Jakker and learned that it had pretty much been the same on their side. Infinity, who had originally planned to push through, anchored nearby. Ricardo bid us a good night, told us our boarding time would be 6:30 a.m. the next day, and boarded the launch home. We were left with just the linehandlers and us. They were all really nice men and they went too far out of their way to be as unobtrusive as possible. They all refused a bed, insisting they would be more comfortable sleeping on deck. It was cooler out there, but it also rained every few hours. I would hear them shifting around at night and would instinctively think I need to get up and ‘check out that noise’ before I realized it was just them. When I woke up in the morning, I found Eric on the settee and the other two sleeping in the cockpit without even a cushion under them.

Arriving in the dark - we tied up to this giant mooring with Jakker (one of us on either side), and got to enjoy sunrise the next day {Maryanne: I felt so sorry for them all, and even more sorry for me and all the sheets and bedding I'd have to wash and stow away again that had only been half used! I've no idea why they didn't use the comfy berths we'd opened up for them, but at least they had the choice.

Last day on the Atlantic Coast..

[Kyle]The day before leaving for the canal we met once again with our agent, Roy, to go over the particulars of the transit and settle up our bill. He confirmed our advisor boarding time and backed that up to come up with the time we needed to be leaving the marina and the time he would arrive with lines, tires, and line handlers. The advisor is the canal official that is in charge of our boat for the canal passage. We were all ready to go.

We took the opportunity to have a “leisure day” and go for a really long, hot walk through the jungle to have a last look at all of the park’s animals. Since it was right in the heat of the day, we didn’t see much for a while. Once we got to where we almost needed a machete, Maryanne spotted an iguana on a distant branch. That was nice, because they are hard to find, but Maryanne has really been dying to see a sloth. We’ve talked to lots of other people say they practically had one as a mascot for a week, but we have never seen one. We’ve seen everything else, but no sloth.

Farewell to the animals of our local jungle!

We were consoling ourselves watching butterflies and leaf cutter ants when Maryanne finally found her sloth. Maybe I should be calling her Eagle Eye. Her sloth was just a ball of thick leaves in a faraway tree. We could see what looked like Yeti fur – maybe, but no features. After fifteen minutes of studying the thing through binoculars, I found a paw with long, curvy claws. Maryanne couldn’t find the claws, but by bushwhacking her way to a better vantage point, she found the adorable face. Sloth confirmed! How she saw that thing at first, I’ll never know. It was as if she had spotted the outline of a neighbor’s cat through the gaps between the leaves on a shrub four houses down.

Yep, that thing up there that looks like a coconut - it IS a sloth!

That made her all happy and smug for the rest of the day. In the same way she found a lone howler monkey sleeping almost motionless high up in a tree. Then we went to find the much more obvious capuchins and finished with a visit to a nesting colony of what I call Bubble Birds. Someone told me their proper name once, which I promptly forgot. Their calls are these adorable babbling brook noises, so they should really be called Bubble Birds.

We then invited our new friend with the truck over for dinner. Maryanne experimented on us with a practice run of the food she was going to feed the whole boatload during the transit. We both wanted seconds, so I think it was a success.

[Maryanne]I'm suddenly feeling anxious about having so many people aboard the boat. We have a 2 day transit schedule, which means we start mid afternoon on one day, transit the Gutan locks and then moor for the night, completing the remaining distance and locks the following day. This means I need 2 days of meals for 6 people, and accommodation for 3 adult male line handlers. We've rearranged things, pulled out or spare pillows and sheets, bowls and forks, etc... I think we can manage it. I am especially nervous about feeding all these people. While we have a good meal plan organized, we are not familiar with what Panamanians likes and dislikes are - so we are winging it a little with a bit of everything and options galore! We are advised that especially the official canal Agent needs a 'good meal' and if he doesn't get it there are scare stories that they he might simply go and order one to be delivered to the boat (that is a $400 boat ride each way for delivery!). No pressure here!

Return To Begonia

[Kyle]We landed at Panama City's airport late at night. After clearing Customs and Immigration we found a driver for the long trip across the isthmus to Shelter Bay. We negotiated a price and were then showed to a cab. At the cab, which was right outside, we were introduced to our actual driver. It was then necessary to go through the whole negotiation again, plus we had to tip the first guy. We noticed both guys had a way of saying “fifty” (as in One-fifty), so it sounded like “fifteen”. Only when Maryanne wrote it down did we figure out what they were up to. We had been told to expect to pay about $100, so we weren’t having any of that. Try as we might, though, we couldn’t get anybody below $120. Once we left the airport, I started to understand why. It was a two-hour drive. There was NO chance our driver could drop us off and get a return fare at that hour AND the poor guy wasn’t going to get home until at least three a.m. When we got to the marina, it became clear that he had never been before. I think he was as psychologically damaged as his car was physically by the terrible roads.

We had slept probably half as much as we both needed to by the time the insistent tropical sun came blasting through the hatch. We knew there were jobs to do, so we dragged ourselves out of bed to do them.

I had been thinking that our return would be relatively easy since we had finished the lion’s share of the work before we left. I was wrong. We again found ourselves in an exhausting dawn to dusk work schedule in order to prepare for going back in the water. Jobs that should have been straight forward and relatively easy mushroomed into much worse. On the second day, for example, I lowered one of the jack stands supporting Begonia so I could be ready to paint under it. I found an area where the multiple layers of previous paint had chipped away; leaving a spot where I just knew the new paint would not adhere properly. It would have to be scraped away and then sanded again. Well, what started out as an area the size of my palm ended up being the size of a pretty big dinner table by the time I was finished. The whole scraping operation was at such a height that I was in a half-situp all morning using my abs to produce the scraping force.

Maryanne, who is dangerously allergic to the toluene in antifouling paint, spent the morning in Colón at the store buying us some food. She helped me tape the hulls before she left and I was worried about her reaction if she returned to find out that I hadn’t even cracked open a can of paint.

The joys of anti-foul painting

I actually managed to get two coats on by the time she came back, but only by working all day without any break. That part of the job was also harder than I anticipated. The paint dried quickly in the tropical heat, so I had to work fast and press hard with the roller to get a good finish. I was pretty much already mush by the time I had finished scraping and started painting. By the time the day was over, I was every-muscle sore. Even though I keep my core pretty strong, I kept getting cramps in my intracostal muscles (between the ribs) all night long. I’ve never had that. It hurts.

When Maryanne returned from the store it was with a new friend from the marina who had his own truck. We was a friendly guy who is here on a contract with the company building the big flyover bridge over both the new and current canals meant to eliminate the current delays waiting for drawbridges. He was kind enough to drive us out all the way to Fort Lorenzo, which is in the same nature preserve as the marina, but much too far to walk.

Fort San Lorenzo at the mouth of the Rio Chagres

Ft. San Lorenzo lies at a strategic point at the mouth of the Chagres River, which was the main route west before the canal was built. The Chagres is now the source of water for canal operations. Several different forces have occupied the fort since it’s inception, most notably Captain Morgan, the pirate. On the drive back, he was even nice enough to stop at a couple of beaches, which are few and far between on this mangrove coast. The surf was a bit high for swimming, but we had a nice walk and talk while poking through the jungle. I’m afraid I was so sore by then that I was having trouble keeping up.

The next day, we finished the painting with a couple more coats. By the time we showered, the big Superbowl party had already started in the lounge. Poor Darren. He’s such a big Denver fan. I don’t imagine he was enjoying himself back in California.

Finally Begonia is ready for her ride back to the water

The following afternoon, we put Begonia back in the water. While I had been looking forward to this, I was dreading the job of getting the rudders reinstalled. They are thick fiberglass on long solid stainless steel posts and they are heavy. I was going to have to hold the weight of more than a hundred pounds while crouched in a very uncomfortable position until Maryanne could get the hardware reattached from inside the boat. Just when it came time to go pick up the rudders, two big, strong yard guys stepped in and did all of the work for me. Maryanne was really quick on her end and the boat took the weight of the rudders within seconds.

Begonia was eased back into the water. There was a flurry of activity as I ran around checking for possible leaks. She stayed dry inside. We went to start the engines to pull out of the slings and got absolutely nothing when we switched on the starboard engine. There were no warning lights; there was no “click” as the relay closed. Nothing. I had a quick look at the wiring connections at the engine while Maryanne pulled the control panel off. Damn! I was really hoping to avoid that. The last time I installed that panel, I sealed the hell out of it to keep it from leaking. It was a real pig to get off. There was nothing obvious on that end either.

It was going to be dark soon and I wanted to be spending the night at our own slip, where I could work on the problem without the yard breathing down my neck to get out of the way. I started the starboard engine by jumping the contacts at the solenoid with a screwdriver. We had no indications and no warning lights, but it ran. The port engine was fine, so we headed to our slip.

By the time we were secure and I had fiddled with all of our dock lines to my satisfaction, Maryanne, in her way, had the engine electrical schematic up on her computer. A little study narrowed the likely culprit to be the red wire (which was black) or possibly the white wire (which was red). This was good news. There are about thirty wires in that harness. We would at least have a place to start the next day.

We were about to collapse into bed again after yet another exhausting day, when Maryanne suggested we would sleep a little better if we knew for sure what was the trouble. Out came our electrical tester and we were soon moving the probes around, checking for continuity. We were able to determine that the problem was undeniably the red wire (which is black). The next day, all we would have to do is replace one wire. Not too bad.

Except that it was long and had to be snaked from the control panel at the helm all the way down to the engine, passing through all manner of tiny spaces which could only be accessed by dismantling that half of the boat. It turns out the red wire (which is black) had chafed through as it passed through a bulkhead. It had been forced into a tighter space when we made room for the heating duct for the Webasto. We replaced it with a red wire and padded the hell out of the chafe point. In the process, Maryanne found a broken connection at the start button and re-soldered it on. That’s a good woman to have, folks! It took all morning to get everything together, but the engine works again, just like it’s supposed to.

We were just starting to put everything back together when the Admeasurer unexpectedly arrived. We had been told he wouldn’t be at Begonia until the next day, but he had a cancellation and was at the marina, so there he was.

The Admeasurer is the official from the Panama Canal Authority who is responsible for measuring the vessel for determining transit fees as well as assuring compliance with various other requirements. After taking his tape measure to Begonia, we took a table in the restaurant to go over all of the paperwork. We handed him document after document and he handed me back form after form to sign. He was very cordial and the experience was very pleasant. When he was finished, he explained that he had a couple other boats to see. At the end of the day, he would enter our information into the system and we would be given a transit time.

A couple of hours later, Roy, our agent, called and said that we would be going through in three days. Wow! We have been “going to” go through the canal for quite some time, but this was the real deal. Three days. We had a lot of jobs to do.

The first of which was to get the boat presentable. We would be home to three extra line handlers for the two-day transit, plus a different Canal Advisor for each day.

It took another whole day, but we finally got Begonia to where we felt like we were living on a boat again and not in a shop. Finally, we were able to eat dinner without looking at a table full of tools. The “work” vibe was gone and now we were having a very long vacation on a boat again.

It didn’t last. We needed food, not just for six people during the transit, but also for the months between Colón and Hawaii. Rey, the local grocery store in Colón, would drive us back to the marina if we spent more than $300 on food. Panamá City is supposed to have better stores, but getting months of food to the boat on the dinghy would be a real pain, so we decided to stock up on all non-perishables at Rey.

We blew way past our $300. Our three bulging carts came to about $850. They gave us a special checkout lane. Our food took up the whole floor of the delivery van, which also turned out to be solely for us. At the marina, we loaded it all into dock carts, and then into the cockpit and I was honestly surprised afterwards that Begonia didn’t seem to sink noticeably under the weight.

This is the point where I usually start to freak out. I look at all of that food scattered in big piles everywhere and wonder where in the hell we are going to fit it all. I fear that I’m going to wake up in the morning to find that I’ve been cuddling a big bag of flour all night and that Maryanne is gasping for breath under a pile of cans that fell on her hours earlier.

Grocery shopping: provisioning the boat for up to four months before our next opportunity to shop easily

Maryanne kept me busy taking things out of boxes and re-bagging them while she went to work inside. By the time I was finished, she was finished. She asked me to have a look to see if there was anything I didn’t like. It was amazing! Maryanne is a freaking magician! Not only was all of the new food stowed away with all of the food we already had, but the boat still looked clean and tidy from the night before. It’s full. No doubt, but there is no need to take big steps over mounds of provisions or sit on boxes until we eat ourselves some more living space. And, AND she still left room for the line handlers to sleep. The only thing that seems to have suffered is access to our spare children’s life jackets, for which we are not anticipating a need for a while. Visitors with kids will have to either eat A LOT before we cast off, or bring their own.

People often ask me what Maryanne does all day, as if the poor thing must be staring out from the boat all day, bored to tears. Usually, she has plenty to keep her occupied. We often wonder how it is that we seem so busy with all of the loafing. She often quips that she tries to get one thing done a day. Today, it took two of us to do one thing, so only half a thing each. We left the boat at 8 a.m. and had the last item stowed away at 6 p.m. Sometimes, there’s not even time to do one whole thing.