TIMESPINNER'S TRAVELS CHAPTER 16

TIMESPINNER'S TRAVELS CHAPTER 16

6 September 2009

I am still sitting in my armchair in Marbella while TIMESPINNER is four thousand nautical miles away, still in its parking lot in Panama. Only three weeks more. This life ashore feels a little dull after our sea-going life!

The end of the last chapter left us at the pass through the breakwater at the entrance to the Panama Canal. From there we turned right, along the inside of the seawall and half an hour's sailing brought us to a tiny little harbour, Shelter Bay, just big enough to house the marina of the same name, where we had made a reservation to park the boat. It's clean and modern and with good facilities but expensive and unfriendly and we shall be happy to leave.

One problem is that the marina is on the opposite side of the Canal from Colon, the town, so that to go anywhere you have to wait at the locks for ship traffic in order to get to the other side. This can take up to an hour. (Fig. 1)


The last time we were in Panama, in 1981, there was a fine old Yacht Club on the other side. It had a great atmosphere because it was the meeting place for yachts crossing or about to cross in either direction. That time, for example, I exchanged all my charts of the Caribbean, Bahamas and east coast of North America for an enormous pile of South Pacific charts. It was also a good place to find crew. Best of all, you could anchor there for free and use the facilities for a modest fee.

That ended this year, shortly before we arrived. Against vigourous local opposition, the forces of Progress (for which read Greed and Corruption) triumphed. At midnight of a holiday weekend at one hour's notice, the bulldozers moved in. The Panama Canal Yacht Club, established in 1928, was razed. Thus Shelter Bay Marina has now a virtual monopoly and takes full advantage of it.

The marina was completely full when we arrived but they found room for us alongside a rusty old sunken barge. This was a long way from the marina facilities and without electricity or water. Climbing on and off our boat was a difficult and dangerously acrobatic exercise, particularly at night, for there were no lights whatever. We were initially offered a reduced rate for this but when the time came to pay there was no reduction, protest how we might. We were in a weak position: if we didn't like it we could leave but there was nowhere else to go, and they knew it.

Rather than hang around this uncomfortable marina for the three weeks until our haulout, we decided to cruise the surrounding waters. Particularly we wanted to go up the Rio Chagres, which is navigable for a long way and was said to be spectacularly beautiful.

Accordingly, we set out and had a fine sail down the coast to the river entrance, where we lowered the sails and started the engine. A slight vibration from the propeller shaft that we had noticed before as something to be looked at once out of the water, became suddenly worse, as did a leak from the shaft gland. It was clearly a foolish idea to proceed up the river, risking getting ourselves stuck up a wild jungly river with no manoeuvring room to sail out.

So we returned to the marina. It was close to quitting time by the time we arrived, but, by exaggerating the size of our leak, Marie was able to get us hauled out right away. Here I am, springing nimbly off the end of the bowsprit in readiness for hoisting. Fig. 2




It was quickly evident what had gone wrong with the propeller, a complicated, feathering design, more suitable for racing than cruising, which gave a significant reduction in drag while under sail. It had already given trouble in Trinidad and I knew that if it happened again I would have to replace it--with a good old-fashioned one. Unable to find one in Panama I waited until we returned to Spain. Right now it makes a nice, shiny brass ornament in our livingroom.

As it turned out, we were glad of the time we had in the marina. There was a surprising amount of work to do on the boat prior to laying her up for six months but we did find time for some recreation.

There were many boats in the marina waiting to transit the canal. For this the canal regulations demand a minimum of four crew members in addition to the steersman. This is not for nothing: you are maintained in the middle of each lock by four lines which have to be kept taut as you rise because the turbulence in the lock as the water rushes in is quite alarming. Lose control and your yacht will be whirled away like a chip and quite probably smashed on the wall. It's not difficult but does demand attention.

Since few yachts carry five crewmembers, the usual thing is to swap: I'll crew for you if you'll crew for me. We weren't going to take TIMESPINNER through this time but it's a fun thing to do, even though we had done it several times before.

We had made friends on a very large, very luxurious catamaran and were happy to experience how the other yachting half lives so we volunteered.

These two, Eliane and Denis, had gone to the south of France with the intention of purchasing a villa there and somehow ended up buying BYZANCE instead. I could almost believe that it was by accident: that they didn't find out that it wasn't a luxury villa until after they had bought it! As you go aboard there is little to remind you that you are on a boat. You enter a nice, shady verandah, behind which is a wide window wall with a front door. There is none of the usual boat equipment: no compass, electronic navigation aids, ropes, winches, etc. Through the front door you come into a bright, spacious, comfortably carpeted livingroom such as you might find ashore. Here, if you look closely, you might find some marine electronics in one corner, but they're not obvious.

Since were to be staying overnight, we were shown to our--not cabin--nautical terminology doesn't fit--our suite, complete with walk-in closet and bathroom. This was not yachting as we know it!

Only when you go up a flight of stairs to the deck above the livingroom does it stop being a villa and you realise that you really are on a well-equipped sailing boat, with all the normal controls and instruments, lines, and winches. And now I felt at home.

In the old days it took most of a day to cross the canal. You left early in the morning, passed through a set of three locks, then a scenic trip across Gatun Lake and finally, three locks down again, to arrive at the Balboa Yacht Club in the late afternoon. Now, for reasons I did not understand, although I did ask, yachts enter the first lock after dark (Figs. 2 and 3)


and spend the night moored to buoys in the lake. (Fig. 4)


As you can see from Figs. 5 and 6,



crossing the lake is a spectacularly lovely cruise and it lasts some four hours. At the end of the lake it narrows to a river and then to a long narrow cut which is the canal proper. This is where things get interesting. (Fig. 8)


The larger ships displace much of the water in the channel (Fig. 10)


so that when two of them pass there is a powerful suction effect that tends to drag them almost uncontrollably towards each other. There is often a tug to help manoeuvre. (Fig. 9)

It can be quite dangerous and this is where the pilots earn their money. The barge in Fig. 7


is placing explosive charges to widen the channel. The crew waved to us but clearly thought we were passing too close!

Finally we arrived at the set of locks that would let us down to the Pacific. In Fig. 11


we have entered one of the locks with two other yachts and a monster ship behind us.(Fig. 15)

Heaving lines are thrown out to us (watch your head, they're weighted--ouch!) and we attach our four lines to them. The attendants make them fast to bollards on the dock and it is now our responsibility to maintain them tight as the levels change, which is what Marie is doing in Fig. 13.


Big ships are towed through the locks by special locomotives pulling on steel cables. Fig. 14.


Massive gates close ponderously behind us and there is a sudden swirl as valves are opened to drain the water and we start our slow descent.(Fig. 12).
At last the descent ends, our lines are cast off,the huge gates open on the view of a new ocean! (Fig. 16)


This new ocean has its own set of deities which have to be propitiated with a libation (Fig. 17)



while proceeding to an anchorage by the Balboa Yacht Club. Marie and I both felt a pang of regret that on this voyage we would not be bringing our own yacht through. (Fig. 18).



Panama City is startlingly different from Colon. (Fig. 20)


It appears that all available development money has been spent on Panama City, leaving Colon to rot in poverty, filth and crime. (It's a lot worse now than 28 years ago. It must be a deliberate government policy but I am at a loss to divine the reason.

We took a day to explore the city on foot before catching a bus back to Colon. It's impossible to photograph everything and we have no room for any more pictures in this newsletter. Here are a few scenes that caught our eye: Molas sell for a lot more in the big city than in the islands, so here are Kunas making and selling their wares under an awning by the side of the road. (Fig. 26) The fat security guard has even removed his gunbelt in order to sleep in comfort.

Fig. 22 is typical of large areas of the old part of the city: poor but not falling down and very clean. In some places it actually has fallen down and sometimes nicely restored (Figs. 22, 23, 24).

It is evident that the modern structure has developed faster than the infrastructure(Fig. 21).

Fig. 27 is an absolutely typical street scene, bustling and colourful, but with many shady trees.

Meanwhile, back in our parking lot, people were busy on their boats, getting ready to go, either east or west. One neighbour, Ronan, is getting ready to sail back to his home in Brittany. He sent us an e-mail, having made excellent time crossing the Atlantic singlehanded, so maybe the quirky underwater paint job that is being done by his artistic friend Patrice, helped somehow. Frightened away the barnacles, perhaps!


Thanks to Leonor and Jorge, some absolutely charming friends of one of Marie's oldest friends, we were able to see an aspect of Panama that we wouldn't otherwise have seen. They have a house some three hours' drive north of Panama City in a place called El Valle de Anton, which is not really a valley but a volcanic caldera. High enough to be cool and dry and yet tropical enough for lush vegetation, it is a retirement paradise. Many property developments have been built there, catering to what the Panamanian government has decided is a more lucrative industry than tourism. Panama is billed as the most retirement-friendly country in the world for reasons of cost of living, tax laws and a host of other advantages.

Leonor and Jorge are old-timers in the region and rather despise these modern communities. They told us how to find their property and to make ourselves at home in their guest cottage and they would be up on the weekend. I wish I were good enough with words to tell you what an incredibly lovely place this is. Even the photographs don't do it justice. You enter the property, (Fig.34),


follow the driveway (Fig. 35)

and arrive at the main house (Fig. 36).


Here is the terrace, which Marie reckons is the most beautiful in the world (Figs. 38, 39)


and looks over to "our" guest cottage (Fig. 37),


which also has a lovely terrace , where we happily spent the rest of the afternoon until dinner time in utter peace. (Fig. 40)


For dinner we were recommended to go to Casa Lourdes, a place we could not possibly have found without detailed directions and even then we got lost. It's an amazingly exotic place (Fig. 41) lost in the forest. We seemed to be the only guests and were treated like visiting royalty.

Next day we explored the area. The house has extensive grounds, including a collection of citrus trees. Believe it or not, these are oranges! (Fig. 48)


There is a pretty little village that has a pretty little vegetable shop with a proud proprietor who posed for his picture. (Fig. 51).


Faithful readers of earlier chapters may remember the green vegetables in Fig. 50 as christophenes and the fruits of Fig. 49 as cashews. We first met them in Grenada.

Our hosts suggested that we walk the naature trail that starts near the bottom of the caldera (Fig. 42) and winds up to the rim, from where there is a marvellous view of the valley (Fig. 33).

Along the way there are wonders: trees with square trunks (Fig. 52), shocking pink bananas, edible but not very, having even more colourful flowers and leaves (Figs. 43, 44, 44a)
and many other things (Figs. 45, 46, 47).


Later, back at the house, our friends arrived together with friends of theirs, Annabella and Ira, an equally charming couple who also live in the Valle. and who were expecting us all for dinner. This was a most joyous occasion in wonderful company.(Fig. 53) We're looking forward to seeing them them again next month, I hope.

With one day left and the use of a rental car that would take us to the airport, we took a trip to Fort San Lorenzo, first built by the Spaniards in the XVI century to guard the entrance to the Rio Chagres, then an important waterway for vessels laden with gold and silver and slaves. (Fig. 28)

Destroyed several times by such notables as Francis Drake, Henry Morgan and finally Admiral Vernon, it now lies in picturesque ruins. (Figs. 29, 30, 31).

There is nothing left to destroy and the guards, with their game of dominoes and their hammocks slung under the shady tree do not have much protecting to do. (Fig. 32).


Next day (well, day after, with the time difference) we were back in Marbella, back to our comfortable, convenient, if unexciting, life ashore.