Rope handling through the Panama Canal Wednesday, 29/03/2023
I spent yesterday early evening drinking and eating on Skyfall, a UK-registered yacht sailed by Tom, who’s English, and Annick, his Belgian wife. They are going through the Panama Canal on Friday and I’ve volunteered to be one of the four rope handlers that every boat has to have (in addition to a pilot and the captain). My next-door-but-one neighbour Patrick the English/Australian mining engineer, is another.
The four of us met at quarter past five on Skyfall. Conversation veered between sailing and our families – parents, being parents, and all the strange things that go on in families – including how we see these things now compared to how they would have been seen 50 or 60 years ago. And whether there’s any link between our histories and what we are doing now.
Sometimes, others sum things up for you better than you could do yourself. In talking about sailing alone, and the reasons why I have been doing it alone, Tom suddenly said: what you’re saying is that the problem is you brought yourself along! And that’s it really: whatever you do, wherever you go, you bring yourself along. The battles you’ve fought, those you’ve lost and those you’ve won, come with you. We were all laughing about the fact that so many people say: You’re Living the Dream! No we said, we’re not living the dream – we’re still having to live with ourselves. Some things are good, some less so… While the lifestyle might be less stressed, that’s life and there’s no getting away from it.
It’s interesting to hear the messy reality of others’ lives, and inspiring too. Patrick is in an interesting situation: he’s very happily married and his wife – who is not a sailor – willingly accepted it when he said: this is something that I really need to do. And off he went. There are few who would be so understanding.
On a very practical note: a few days ago a catamaran came into the dock and was hauled out, severely damaged. It had sailed here from the San Blas Islands, a good 60 nautical miles, with its one hull entirely ripped open. Once lifted out of the water, the extent of damage was obvious. It had a large tarpaulin tied over the hull, allowing it to sail, and once this was punctured, the water gushed out. The starboard hull was ripped end to end. Apparently hit a reef, and the word is that it was doing 9 knots at the time – explaining how the entire 40-foot-plus hull could be damaged.
In uncertain waters, known for uncharted reefs, 2 to 3 knots would represent reasonable caution. Tom had hit a rock at that speed without serious damage; a couple of times I’ve hit sand (and if you’re moving slowly it’s not particularly difficult reversing off it, making use of a small wave to free yourself). But high speed changes things entirely. For this unfortunate boat, being a catamaran was the lifesaver: it could survive such damage because the port hull was fine. If it had been a monohull yacht like us, it would simply have sunk – absolutely no way you could have blocked the hole or pumped water out at a sufficient rate to stay afloat. Anyway, the French owners have it in the boatyard now and the beginning of repairs will soon be underway. They’ve stripped out all the fittings from inside the hull, everything ruined and needing replacement. Electric wiring doesn’t take kindly to immersion in salt water either. Seeing the result of someone else’s misfortune is sobering – and a reminder that whatever you do, the overriding rule is always: be cautious. Forget about being fast or being clever; the key at all times is to avoid catastrophe!
Well, on Thursday morning at 0730 I will be having the novel experience of sailing on somebody else’s boat. It’s just 4.5 to 5 hours to Shelter Bay Marina, which is close to the Caribbean entrance to the Panama Canal. Tom has booked a diver early afternoon to check/clean the boat bottom and issue a certificate, which is needed because once through the canal they’re sailing for the Galápagos Islands. Given the islands’ environmental status, entry requirements are exacting: any barnacles or other growth on the hull and entry will not be permitted. What it also means is a quick clean/final check of the bottom just offshore before entry. On top of this, there are only certain places where you can anchor – the most interesting islands are off-limits, meaning that to visit them means taking official tour boats. The basic entry charge to the Galapagos is $2,000 for a boat, and then tours, plus boat cleaning etc etc. Altogether huge expense and hassle. I will not bother – I shall live vicariously through the experiences of others. The one clear advantage is that by stopping in the Galapagos, which are about 900 nautical miles off South America, it’s then “only” 3,000 miles to go to the Marquesas in the central Pacific. Not stopping means an almost 4,000 mile voyage (4,600 land miles or 7,360 kilometres)…