Transiting the Panama Canal (with a bunch of nudists)

The goal of a Canal transit is to pass under the Bridge of the Americas in one piece.

The buzz around Shelter Bay Marina is all about going through the Canal. The majority of the boats in the marina are either preparing for or waiting for their transit date. You hear lots of horror stories about other boats going through, which creates a certain level of tension amongst all the sailors. Another concern (Meryl's),  was menu planning as it was rumored if an advisor didn't like your meals he could call and have another delivered at your expense. So most crews were preparing good and plentiful food for six people to last the entire transit.   Of course everyone had various suggestions on how to make a successful Canal transit.  Some of it is helpful, some not so.

On Tuesday our agent, Eric Galvez, dropped off four 100 ft. ¾” lines and 8 large teardrop fenders for use during the transit. We got the fenders strategically placed around the boat and the lines stacked on the foredeck. Of all the advice we got the best was from our friend Andrew on Eye Candy:  “Walter, just relax. It will be OK.”

On March 12th (our son Brad’s birthday) we left the marina around 12:30 pm with Annie, Trig, and Gabriel, a 22-year-old line handler we hired through our agent. We motored about five miles to an anchorage called The Flats, located just before the entrance to the Canal. We got there early in case the schedule changed (we we supposed to go through at 5:30 pm) and we could go through ahead of time. Unfortunately, no such luck.

If you could blow this photo up you would understand our consternation about going through the Canal with this boat.

There was only one other sailboat in the area, a funky older catamaran that we will call The Other Boat (TOB) with an older blonde, very naked man walking the foredeck. I did my little prayer of “Please God don’t let that be the boat we’re going through with.”  We anchored in very windy conditions and waited. No other sailboats came, raising my apprehension.

Our Adviser Guillermo (on the left) arrives to assist Flying Cloud through the Canal.

Our Adviser (required by the Canal to assist us in the locking process, kind of like a ship’s pilot) finally arrived at about 6:15. His name was Guillermo. All the Advisers have normal full time jobs and do advising on their days off. He normally worked as a security guy patrolling the Canal by boat, so he knew the Canal like the back of his hand.

Guillermo was calm, cool, and collected, which is way more than I was at that time.

Guillermo gave the command to “up anchor” and (unfortunately) raft up with TOB, a German catamaran with a group of German/Austrian nudists on board (they were clothed all the time through the Canal, thank God!). I had to laugh when Meryl didn't get the spring line quite right and was admonished by a woman with a deep German accent saying "Don't you speak English?"

We entered the first Gatun Lock behind the container ship, Ice Glacier.

We had the Senior Adviser so I had to “steer” the raft. It was now very dark, but as we approached the locks things lit up like Friday night football. The locks are 1000 ft. long and 110 ft. wide, but it seems much narrower when you are rafted to a wide catamaran. We slowly entered the Gatun Locks, a series of three connected locks, that would raise us 85 ft. to the level of Gatun Lake.

Having a professional line handler like Gabriel is worth every penny of the $50/day fee.

Gabriel was great organizing the two large 125 ft. blue lines and getting the fenders adjusted just right. The Adviser gave me commands like reverse, forward, slow forward, neutral and relay the same over to TOB, which also had an Adviser on board. Unfortunately the captain of TOB, seemed more interested in talking with his crew of two couples than really paying attention. It was like party central on that boat, which made things more tense for me.  We followed a huge ship into the locks, which was also a little intimidating. The good thing is our Adviser was extremely competent and gave us excellent instructions during the transit.

This is a good shot showing the length and height of the lines going to the top of the lock. Tending these lines in synch with the other boat is crucial.

As we got close the line handlers high up on the lock threw a weighted ball (called a monkey fist) attached to a lightweight line to our foredeck. We had air mattresses covering all the solar panels since the monkey fist would easily crack them with a direct hit. Gabby (Gabriel) expertly caught the messenger lines and tied them to our big blue lines with a quick bowline. Trig took one back to the aft cleat and Gabby ran a blue line to the front cleat. The line handlers then pulled the heavy blue lines up to the top of the locks and put them over huge yellow bollards. TOB was very slow handling their lines causing our boat to drift closer to the wall. Finally with everything under control (and our Adviser constantly reminding the other skipper to do things), the massive steel doors closed behind us and water began swirling (sometimes with a lot for force) into the locks. Trig and Gabby would slowly pull our lines in as Flying Cloud rose with the torrent of water entering the locks (gravity feed from Lake Gatun 85 ft. above us). The main force of the water flowing in was on TOB’s side of the lock meaning they had to tend their lines very carefully to keep us off the lock wall. Well, one can only wish.

It took about 15 minutes to rise to the top of the first lock. Tryg and Gabby then pulled the big blue lines back on deck and until they just had the thin messenger line, and we slowly motored forward while the lock keeper guys walked the lines forward so we could enter the next lock. Every once in awhile Gabby or Tryg would have to “flip” the line to get it over some obstacles along the lock wall.

We repeated this procedure twice more, all the time watching the party atmosphere on the nudist boat. It was very disconcerting to have them not paying attention. At one point I heard a lot of laughter and looked over to the foredeck of TOB to see two guys pulling down the shorts of one of the women to get some GoPro footage of her bare bum. OMG. Concentrate, Walter.

Gabriel knew just how to use our heavy blue lines to "bridle" us to the buoy for our overnight stay on Lake Gatun.

We then motored out of the third lock, untied from TOB, and motored about 50 minutes in the pitch black to a large orange mooring buoy where we tied up for the night. A boat came after about an hour to pick up the Adviser, but Gabby slept in the sea berth. It had been a long, tedious day and we were all exhausted. What was happening on TOB, tied to another mooring ball, is best left to one’s prurient imagination.

We had some 600 ft container ships sharing the anchorage with us that night.

The next morning we got up at 6:00 am since a new Adviser was due at 6:30, but he didn’t show up until about 8:15 am. Then we motored for about three hours, racing at 6.5 knots trying to get as far ahead of TOB as we could. Our Adviser was hoping we could raft to a tour boat that was about to go through the 2nd set of locks, at the Pedro Miguel.

They are continually dredging the Canal to maintain the 59 ft. depth throughout the passage.

The Titan Crane, one of the world's largest floating cranes, was actually built in Hitler's Germany and claimed as war booty by the Americans. It came to the Panama Canal in 1999 from Long Beach, CA.

It is a little disconcerting to being sharing a relatively narrow canal with 600 ft. container ships going 16 to 22 knots.

The passage through the Culebra (Gaillard) Cut is very narrow so tugs are used to keep the ships on course.

Unfortunately that didn’t work out so about 1 ½ hours later TOB comes slowly motoring up and we have to raft up with them again. The next part got kind of screwed up as we almost went in the left hand lock, but then they told us to go back out. We then motored around with strong 20-knot gust hitting us making maneuvering very difficult. Finally about another hour wait we entered the right hand lock in front of another huge ship. Same routine, but this time going down. For Trig and Gabby it was a little more tense since any kink in the outgoing line would have us hanging from the lock walls, but they both did a great job of paying attention and paying out the lines at the right speed.

A webcam photo supplied by Meryl's cousin, Lisa Van Kampen, shows us entering the last set of locks at the Miraflores Locks.

These arrows denote the status of the lock: Straight Up = not ready; Angled down = moor to that approach wall; and 90 degrees right or left = enter the right or left lock.

Here the line handler is getting ready to let go of the blue mooring line and walk it along the walls to the next lock.

Our friends Annie and Tryg were a tremendous help in getting us through the locks safely. I think they are both breathing a sigh of relief.

When you turn around and see the Sunbelt Spirit looming, it puts the fear of God in you. Just last week a ship this size couldn't stop and crushed the lock gate in the Kiel Canal in Germany.

This view is a welcome sight to any Captain as he gazes out over the final lock at Miraflores and sees the Pacific Ocean in the distance.

Tryg and Meryl had a good system for locking down where Meryl would untangle the line for Tryg, who would slowly feed it out the fairlead as the boat descended in the lock.

The Visitor's Center at the Miraflores Lock is always packed with tourists watching the antics below. If they only knew how nervous those skippers were at the time.

On the Pacific side of the Miraflores Locks there are two sets of lock doors to counteract the extremely high tides of the Pacific Ocean.

We stayed rafted and this time had to tie to a buoy for over an hour while waiting for a inbound ship to clear the lock. This time we went into the lock (the Miraflores) first with the huge ship entering after us. Very intimidating to turn around and see this massive ship towering over us. Locking down was a little more difficult since you have to smoothly pay your lines out and there is a lot of force on the boat from the water swirling around. The doors opened (the Miraflores Locks have two gates as an emergency against the high tides of the Pacific) and we walked our lines into the final lock. This last lock is the toughest since you have about a 3 – 4 knot current from behind and the boat has to be held tight. Gabby and Trig did a great job, but it was still party time on TOB. Finally we got out and joyfully untied from TOB (hoping this was the last time I would ever see them) and we motored ahead to drop of the Adviser and a little further on we dropped off Gabby and the lines and buoys we had rented.

We then motored about 30 minutes to an anchorage called La Playita. We saw our friends there and went to anchor but with a side current pushing against an opposing 20-knot wind it was tough to get the right position in the very crowded anchorage. A nearby cat indicated we were too close to him so we pulled our anchor up and got ready to come around for a 2nd try when, who but TOB, motors right past us and anchors in the exact spot we were headed to. It’s the only time I lost my cool and screamed at them. It had been a very tense two days for me with a lot at risk and these idiots where in the way all they way through the locks. I somehow in my mind knew they were going to do something like that so I vented my anger. We then found another place, got anchored, and had a quantity of beers.

The intrepid Captain and crew of Flying Cloud relieved to check this one off the bucket list.

A very long two days and we’re really glad it’s over. When I went to start our outboard this morning to take Annie and Trig to a hotel, I found the motor was frozen. I'm sure it's the same issue that I thought we had fixed last August so now we have to deal with that on top of getting ready for the Galapagos. Luckily we had a little 2 hp. Yamaha squirreled away in the depths of the boat and like a champ it started on the first pull.

We’ll chill out tomorrow and then hit the ground running on Monday. As soon as we have all the shopping, motor repair, etc. done we’ll head out to the Los Perlas islands off the coast of Panama and wait for a weather window to the Galapagos. Trig is flying home and then meeting us in the Galapagos for the long 3 week passage to the Marquesas. It will be great to have him along for company on the long 3 to 4 week passage.

Getting Ready to Transit Panama Canal

We had lots of trepidation preparing for our sail from the San Blas to Colon (Shelter Bay Marina). It had been very windy the last three days with waves crashing over the reef and a forecast of 20 - 25 knot winds with 8 ft. seas. We waited a couple of extra days but finally ran out of time, and with the wind seemingly abating we took off for Portobello on Wednesday, March 4th.

We had talked to some locals and found out you could sail inside of Escribanos Reef, which would give us some protection from the big seas. We had been cautious about sailing that close to the shore coming down, but found it was a piece of cake going north. The charts have a zillion little squiggles in this area but it was at least 50 ft. deep the whole way and we enjoyed a beautiful beam reach in 15 knots of wind all the way to Portobello.

We anchored in our old spot at Portobello and got up early the next morning for an enjoyable sail in somewhat lighter winds all the way up to the Canal entrance and Shelter Bay Marina.

It was great to be back in the protection and social world of the marina, but the spell was soon broken when both our macerators (that operate the heads) failed at the same time. The next week was hell trying to get the heads running again (we needed them to go through the Canal and we also had guests arriving).  I will spare you the details, but this is one job I hate doing and I had to do it four times since the first fix didn’t work. Ugh.

Our 15 minutes of fame in Latitude 38 magazine.

On Saturday, with me still deep in the head repairs, Meryl attended a party put on by Latitude 38 magazine for people going on the Pacific Puddlejump. They gave a special presentation on sailing around Tahiti and details of activities planned in French Polynesia for the arriving PuddleJumpers. We got our pictures taken as a group and individual pictures for a future article in the magazine. We were pleasantly surprised when the electronic version of Lat 38 featured us along with three other couples talking about why were were sailing to Tahiti.

With our friends Annie and Tryg due to arrive later Saturday evening, we needed to get the boat cleaned up (and deodorized). This is always somewhat of a challenge as the guest berth serves as our “garage” piled high with sails, suitcases, foods, and other detritus. They arrived late Saturday night with a duffel bag full of needed boat parts and just as the forward head and boat were somewhat functioning again.

Having Annie and Tryg here was wonderful. They took the marina van in on Monday to the Reys Supermarket with Meryl to begin our provisioning for the South Pacific, leaving me free to install the new aft head pump and new macerator for the forward head. We had hired a local guy to help with the plumbing issues on the forward head, but he was a mixed blessing. He managed to burn out the new macerator pump I had just installed the day before, forcing us to order one through the marina at over twice the price of the one A & T brought down in their suitcases. This must be another of those “tests” we endure to make us stronger people.

We did get a couple of breaks, however, to take a nice nature walk up the Kennedy Loop where we saw a whole pack of capuchin monkeys, the kind with the white faces and chests. They were having a great time leaping from tree to tree over our heads. Every once in a while we heard the weirdest sound, like a fighter jet in the distance making a low pass. We later found out that was the sound of the howler monkeys who were deeper in the jungle. It’s a very erie sound at best.

Our solar cells are at risk going through the Canal when the line handlers throw their lines with heavy monkey fist to the boat, so we covered all our panels with air mattresses.

The rest of the week was spent provisioning and preparing for the Canal transit. We had delayed our planned Tuesday transit until Thursday to give us a little more time to get ready. On Tuesday our agent stopped by and dropped off four large blue ¾" poly lines and eight huge round fenders that we will use going through the Canal. The boat is starting to look like a garbage scow and the realization that we going through the Panama Canal is starting to sink in. There are so many horror stories (just a few days earlier a boat got slammed into the wall when the boat it was rafted to didn’t tend its lines quick enough) that everyone is antsy about the transit. Also, it's the final commitment for those who considered staying in the relative safety of the Caribbean Sea and are now headed for the wild Pacific.

Getting ready to cast off from Shelter Bay Marina for our Canal transit with our friends Annie & Trygve Johnson.

More Revolution and a Little Chica

The next morning we went to the Congresso, the largest hut on the island where the Kuna hold their weekly community meetings. It was packed to the brim with Kuna in traditional dress. Today was the adult reenactment of the Revolution with Kuna dressed as Panamanian Police yelling and harassing a group of Kuna in the center of the hut. All the actors take their roles quite seriously and we had a shotgun pushed in front of our faces by a screaming “policeman” (made a believer out of me). Many of the young children were quite frightened as policemen yelled and beat the Kuna laying on the ground and had to be consoled by their mothers. With the hundreds of Kuna’s packed into the small space and the screaming, crying, wailing, and such it was quite an emotional experience for everyone. We eventually crept out the back for a break and took a walk trough the now almost deserted village.

Five chiefs of the village watch the ceremony from a raised platform. Albinos are somewhat common in Kuna Yala due to the small indigenous population.

Act 3 was about to start in the central square, with the caciques or chiefs seated on an elevated platform overlooking the square resplendent in their Sunday best ties, dress shirts, and Panama hats. All around the perimeter of the square were groups of Kuna, from older women in traditional dress to younger Kuna girls in tight jeans and “Juicy” tops with the smart phones recording the activity. There were also lots of young Kuna children, with the 6 year olds carrying the babies on their hips. This is fairly common among the Kuna, with the younger children having full time childcare responsibilities.

These "actors" represent a peaceful Kuna family in their village.

Also around the perimeter were small banana tree covered huts with Kuna doing traditional activities. These represented the Kuna villages for purposes of the play. Act 3 began with the traditional dance, followed by Kuna “actors” portraying daily Kuna activities which we soon disrupted by the Panamanian police.

Our guide, Ferdinand, warned us he plays "a very very bad man."

Here the Kuna rebel, under the leadership of Juan Fernadez, and kill the Panamanian police chief.

Using foam batons the police brutally beat the Kuna with the “wacks” resounding throughout the village. Again, it was quite brutal and realistic — no one pulled any punches that I saw — and disturbing for the young children. For the older kids there were giggles and smirks. The beatings went on for over an hour and eventually the Kuna surrounded the police chief and beat him to death. With everyone cheering Juan Fernandez, a group gathered up the dead police chief, carried him down to the dock, and threw him in the water. It was disturbing to know that 90 years this exact act took place exactly where we stood. Very sobering for all of us to think about what these peaceful people where forced to endure.

All the cruisers took a break for lunch back on the boats then returned around 2:00 pm for the highlight of the day, the Chica Ceremony.  We were invited into the large Congresso hut which was full to the brim with Kuna, men on one side and women on the other. The Chica Ceremony is to celebrate the coming of age a young Kuna girls, ranging from 11 to 13 years old. Our guide invited us (men first then women) to the side of the room where the mother of the Chica girl gave us a coconut shell with water to rinse our mouths, then next to her the Chica girl, whose body was painted in dark purple dye to protect her from the spirits, used a small gourd to fill a larger bowl with the chica, a fermented sugar cane drink with a taste similar to a flat wine. We had to drink the entire bowl standing in front of her, then retire back to the men’s bench where from that point forward men would bring a huge bowl of chica and refill our coconut shells.

Photographs are not permitted during the sacred Chica ceremony so I had to sneak this one when no one was looking.

I lasted through about three rounds, big drinker that I am, but everyone else kept drinking into the wee hours of the night. The idea is that the Kuna use the ceremony to prepare their body to receive a new spirit. The idea is to get into a sort of stupor so the new spirit can enter your body. Two groups of chiefs sat at each end and two lower level chiefs (with a necklace of what looks like pan flutes) alternate bringing them bowls of chica and blowing smoke from a short, fat pipe, into their faces. The same routine goes on at the women’s end, with the Chica girl's family doing the honors.  The mood is initially quiet and somber, with occasional dances or pan flute playing. The ceremony goes on into the wee hours when I imagine everyone is almost passed out (but with a new spirit, hopefully). No photos are allowed during the Chica ceremony but the above narrative should give you a good idea of the mood.

We spent the rest of the day roaming the village with Phil and Monica from Miss Molly, looking at the five-room school house a one end of the island, and the restored grassy area (with help of the German foundation) at the other end. The experience gave us a much better understanding of the Kuna culture and a feeling of what their everyday life must be like, certainly not that far removed from their lives hundreds of years ago.

Viva la Revolution

After a couple days of boat projects at Shelter Bay Marina, we headed back south to the San Blas Islands via Isla Linton, a nice anchorage about three hours south of Colon. The next day we headed back to the Swimming Pool where we saw our friends Phil and Monica on Miss Molly.

While we enjoyed our time in the Swimming Pool and Bandeup, we stayed longer than planned due to a nasty cold that Walter caught. Miss Molly had left to attend a very special festival, the Reenactment of the 1925 Kuna Revolution on Isla Tigre.  While I just wanted some more bed rest, I understood how much Meryl wanted to attend the festival so we plotted a course to Isla Tigre, a short but circuitous 12-mile sail to the southwest on Tuesday, Feb. 25th. You don’t just sail straight from A to B in the San Blas, the omnipresent reefs are everywhere and you’ve got to be very certain of your navigation, evidenced by the many wrecks on the surrounding reefs.

With just the genoa flying we had a relaxing sail averaging about 5 to 6 knots the whole way to Isla Tigre. We could see a lot of sailboat masts in the distance and knew anchoring was going to be an issue. After a dogleg right around one reef and a dogleg left around another, with surf breaking on all of them, we rounded the corner of Isle Tigre and shoe-horned ourselves behind Miss Molly and very close to a beautiful French Catana cat, whose captain was on the foredeck glaring at me the whole time.

The village of Isla Tigre where the Revolution took place in 1925.

The VHF crackled to life with a call from Miss Molly giving us the 411 on the festival and an invitation to dingy in with them around 6:30 pm.  Isla Tigre is a relatively small island, but boasts a population of over 2,000 Kuna adults and 500 children. The island was spotlessly clean with round wooden stick huts covering every square inch of earth. You would not call Isle Tigre a traditional Kuna island, but more transitional as they have some electricity, an occasional satellite TV dish, and some younger Kuna dressing in more Western style.

Kuna's from surrounding islands come to Isla Tigre for the Revolution Reenactment. Some are dressed traditionally while the younger Kuna tend to favor more Westernized clothing.

Kuna women in traditional dress lead the procession in front of the audience and the Chiefs.

Many Kuna women wear the traditional winnies, long strands of beads wrapped around each leg.

We entered a large open plaza area full of Kuna dressed in their incredibly beautiful native dress. The Kuna have a sense of style and color that rivals no one, and their native molas reflect their feel for color and design. Most of the women wore bright red headdresses, a colorful top and a wraparound sarong-type dress with designs similar to those seen in Polynesia. Their legs are bound with winnies, a continuous beaded line that wraps from ankle to just below their knees.

Each "act" of the Reenactment began with a group of Kuna men playing pan flutes and women on maracas.

A haunting Peruvian melody played continuously on the loudspeakers as hundreds of Kuna men and women milled about, with children darting in an out of their mother’s shadows. Festive balloons and red/yellow flags criss-crossed the plaza with an occasional electric light here and there. An announcer talked continuously in Kuna about the meaning of the celebration and the importance of Kuna’s understanding their heritage and fight for independence.

The Kuna are second only to the Pygmies in lack of height, the average Kuna being about 4 ft. 11” and are a peaceful, respectful, and friendly people. It’s very difficult to think of them as warriors having to fight for their independence, but that’s what happened in Feb. 21, 1925 when the highly repressive Panamanian police pushed them the last inch too far. 

The Kuna flag is based on a centuries old Sanskrit symbol.

The Kuna had remained loyal to Columbia, who relinquished the Canal area to Panama following a US inspired one-day revolution.  The Panamanian’s, wanting to consolidate their power and influence over the Kuna, constantly harangued them about their customs, native dress, and any other thing that popped into their head, to the point of Kuna’s suffering severe beatings and death at the hands of the police. On Feb 21, 1925, a group of Kuna on Isla Tigre, lead by Juan Fernandez, rebelled and killed the police chief on the island. When word of the revolution reached Colon, the Panamanian government readied a military force to deal with the Kuna, only to to be saved at the last minute by the intercession of a U.S. Navy vessel, the USS Cleveland. The US left a clear message to the new Panamanian government, hands off the Kuna.

Ferdinand briefed Monica, Meryl and Phil on each day's activities.

Only two Kuna speak passable English on the island, and one, Ferdinand, briefed us on the festival and the event schedule. He also dutifully collected $20 from each boat to help defray expenses for the festival. He was also an “actor” in the event and cautioned us that he played “a very, very bad man.” He was kind of a character in many respects.

The Revolution Reinactment Festival, for lack of a better term, was centered around four acts, similar to a play. The first act, that night, was a series of vignettes about the Kuna, their culture and their struggle with the Panamanians. All the acts begin with a group of men and women facing each other, the men with pan flutes and the women with maracas. The men play a haunting melody and dance interwoven with the women shaking their maracas in rhythm.

The procession features different aspects of Kuna culture.

Kuna Yala is most famous for the beautiful molas made by the island women (and a few men).

In the second "act" Panamanian police attack the Kuna tearing husband from wife.

In the central Congresso hut Panamanian police harass and threaten the Kuna.

The Kuna rise up under the leadership of Juan Fernandez and kill the Panamanian police.

This was followed by a group of Kuna, lead by a couple with a baby, who was held high in the air to celebrate life. Other Kuna followed with symbols of their culture, such as molas, carvings, and handicrafts. The next scene, rather frightening to the young children in the audience, showed the Panamanian’s rushing in to slaughter the peaceful Kuna, leaving piles of dead bodies in their wake. In a final scene, the Kuna rebel and slay the police chief, with all the children chanting the name of “Juan Fernandez” the liberator of the Kuna.

This little Kuna girl kept us in stitches all night long with her antics.

The most endearing moment of the evening was a 4-year-old Kuna girl who played hide and seek with Meryl and I, oblivious to all the regalia going on around her. A priceless moment.

German couple working with the Kuna on sustainability projects.

We were fortunate to be seated next to a German/Austrian couple who work for a German foundation that promotes sustainability around the world. The woman spoke fluent Spanish and passable Kuna and filled us in on the challenges working on sanitation, refuse removal, habitat restoration and other projects they were sponsoring on the island.

There is no sanitation system on the island, the Kuna use what are euphemistically called “long drop” toilets that perch out over the water. Currently all trash goes into the sea. Water is plentiful thanks to a pipeline from the mainland. The little electricity is supplied by gas generators and an occasional solar panel. Given all that, the community has functioned well for centuries with little changes.

The ubiquitous "long drop" toilets used by the Kuna.

With the aid of the German foundation, the Kuna have begun restoration projects on one end of Isla Tigre.

The Kuna’s are receptive to improvements, but have almost no resources and receive very little from the Panamanian government with whom they have a tepid relationship. The men travel to the mainland in their ulla’s (wooden canoes) to tend small agricultural plots with coconuts and pineapple, fish the surrounding waters, while the women (and some men) make the famous molas that sell from $20 up to $100.

A Quick Trip Back to (Almost) Super Bowl City

It was so nice to see the smile on Chris' face as we explained the design of her new mola from the San Blas Islands.

It’s always a mixed blessing arriving in Seattle. We lived there our whole lives and love the city. Most of our family and friends are in the area and fond memories come flooding back when we’re circling the city to land. But this was going to be a quick turn-around trip. It's always so nice to pull up at the Berries house and know our bed is made up and ready.

Brad's new house in Preston, WA.

Grandma Meryl playing with Bennett and Brody.

I think Brad likes the riding lawn mower that came with the house more than the house.

Our first stop, as always, was our son’s house to visit his family. He had recently purchased a new home just outside of Issaquah in Preston and it took us a while to find it. It's a gorgeous house on 9 acres with a spacious lawn and its very own lake!  He was so proud to show us around the property and I just know he’ll be building hiking and biking trails for the boys to explore. He moved from a somewhat small house to one so big it even has empty rooms. I think, however, he’s fearful his itinerate parents will someday move in with him.  We had a great couple of day playing with the grandkids and getting caught up with their lives. Again, that’s the hardest part of cruising, being away from people you love.

So great to visit with our old North Bend neighbors Paul and Cynthia and see there new house.

The Boat Show, The Boat Show.

As usual, the next few days were filled with doctor appointments, tracking down boat parts, and provisioning in the massive (to us) US grocery stores. We even managed to sneak in a quick visit to the Seattle Boat Show where we saw the same vendors selling the same products. We did pick up a few items on sale, so it was a worthwhile trip. It was rather strange, however, going to seminars filled with people whose dream is to sell their house and sail off into the sunset. Oh the stories we could tell them.

It was a great Super Bowl party, but our luck just ran out at the end.

Not wanting to wear out our welcome with the Berries we stayed with the Ballew’s for the remainder of our trip; they are the consummate hosts and always make us feel so welcome (as do the Berry's). We were fortunate to be invited to Irene’s sister Pat's house for a big Super Bowl party. So fun to watch such an exciting game with a group of fun people, even though the end of the game was kind of a bummer.

How all this stuff ends up on an airplane amazes even me.

Traveling light with The Conner's.

Packing up all our junk is always an issue, but this year we had the brilliant idea of getting a couple of huge used suitcases at Goodwill and loading up all our boat supplies and food into the hard sided roll-a-boards. Even though we weighed everything carefully, we wanted to avoid the fiasco of paying the $300 excess baggage, so we took the suitcases over to an empty check-in counter and carefully weighed each one, adjusted items from bag to bag. I was taking back a 35 lb. anchor windlass motor (as a spare) and unfortunately that had to go in my carry on bag. When we boarded the airplane and I was lifting up my bag to the overhead storage everyone must of thought I was a wimp, but in reality it weighed about 65 pounds. Ya do what ya gotta do.

We took an 11:00 pm flight to Houston and slept most of the way. After a two-hour layover we boarded the plane to Panama happy to be headed back to the boat. Since the flights went so smooth, my radar was up and sure enough one bag didn’t make it. That meant we had to stay at an airport hotel and pick up the bag later that evening. Naturally TSA had confiscated some dumb things out of the bag, including some grease, boat polish, and a cleaner to the tune of $150. What are you gonna do?

We took advantage of being in Panama City and had our taxi driver swing by the French Embassy the next morning to drop off our passports so the French visa could be inserted. That would have required a separate trip so it worked out OK.

It was wonderful getting back to the boat, except the minute we got on the boat the motor for the fridge gave it’s last breath of rotation and died. That meant we had to scramble to find another boat to take our freezer stuff and buy enough ice to keep the rest of the stuff cold. I had to quickly pull out the massive motor and take it to the marina so it could be sent out for repair. Our boat doesn’t like it when we are gone and this is its typical behavior.

Even though we had a ton of things to do we still found time to run and jump in the pool to cool off and have sundowners with a large group of cruisers at 5:00 pm each night. Over the next  few days we stored our provisions, worked on various boat projects, and got in some nice walks in the nature reserve that surrounds the marina.

Later in the week we did an overnight trip back to Panama City to pick up our visas at the French Embassy. Unfortunately, we arrived too late to make their 11:30 am closing time, so we had fun exploring the old town and enjoying a few drinks at the Fish Market.

The next day we split up with me heading to the French Embassy (which I swear opened at 7:30) and Meryl to the American Embassy where we had an 8:00 am appointment for additional pages to be inserted in our passports. Unfortunately, the French didn’t open up until 8:30 and I had no way of getting a hold of Meryl, so I rushed out to the American Embassy to find the waiting room packed with hundreds of visa seekers. Luckily Meryl had everything under control so we got our pages, stopped at Islamorada to buy a South Pacific chart, then on to Albrook Mall for a quick lunch and bus ride back to Shelter Bay. No Brad Pitt war movies this time.