When we returned from the San
Blas after several days of visiting, it was time for our
trip through the Panama Canal. We arrived in the harbor at
Colon in late morning, expecting to start our journey
immediately. Didn't work that way. We sat at anchor for
most of the day, waiting for the Canal's computer to assign us a
trip, and watching ships go up and down the Gatun locks.
A very sketchy explanation of the architecture of
the Canal follows. Skip it if it's not your bag. In
building the Canal there were two major problems; The
Continental Divide was in the way, and the water wasn't
deep enough. In excavating through the highest part of the
Isthmus, the engineers used much of the soil to dam up the
Chagres River. This solved the difficulty, but it left the
resulting lakes some 87 feet above sea level. So locks were
needed at both ends of the Canal to raise and lower ships
to the lake level. At the Gatun locks there are three
consecutive chambers, 1000 feet long and 110 feet wide.
These dimensions define the maximum-sized ship that can
transit the Canal. (Called a PANAMAX). The deepest draft is
determined by the amount of water currently in Gatun Lake.
(About 37 feet) We were admitted into the lock along with a
refrigerator ship named the Vermont Universal, on its way
to Ecuador for a load of bananas. Because our combined
length did not exceed the length of a lock, we were doubled
up with this larger ship. It was dark by the time we
reached the locks, but it made no difference since they are
brilliantly lit and we were able to see every detail. I had
since school days been seeing pictures of the locomotives
(called mules) that accompany a ship through the locks, and
assumed they towed the big ships. They don't. Their
function is to keep the ships centered, so they can't
damage the walls or the giant doors of the locks.
Before you enter the locks your ship is boarded by line
handlers carrying heaving lines. In order to connect to the
"mules" two men in a small boat row out, catch the heaving
line and attach it to the cable from the mule. I understand
many different high-tech devices have been tried over the
years, but they always go back to this antiquated but
effective method. After exiting the three locks we
proceeded across Gatun Lake and into the Gaillard Cut,
which is where the canal was dug through the Continental
Divide.
The Cut is still being deepened and widened. As we
went by, two giant dredges were operating, one sucking mud
from the bottom, the other further on, attacking a rocky
place in the Cut. It had huge jaws to lift rocks off the
bottom, but apparently had tried to bite off one that it
couldn't chew. A giant rock was stuck in the jaws and our
Canal Pilot said that they would have to drill holes in the
rock and break it up with explosives.
Our crossing happened the night of a complete eclipse
of the moon so we had a chance to observe that from the upper deck at the same time. After midnight we were lowered down the Pedro Miguel
Lock in one step, and a mile later, down two steps in the
Miraflores Locks to the Pacific Ocean.
We did go on an optional trip into the Darien jungle that turned out to be one of the most memorable features of the cruise. We went about 20 miles up a river in log canoes called "cayucas" These held 20 passengers and were propelled by the ever-present outboards. Ours was a luxury model; it had backs on the board seats. As we went upriver, it got hotter and steamier and we began to see mangrove swamps that appeared to be absolutely impenetrable. Also, we were looking at exotic birds circling and landing on the river.
Eventually we veered off into a backwater and landed on a muddy bank.
There were members of the Choco tribe there to help us slip and slide up the bank. The men wore a strip of bright cloth fore and aft; the women wore short skirts wrapped around their waists. Nothing more. It was so hot that some of our shipmates expressed a desire to dress that way. (That would have been something to see; we were mostly age 60 or more).
We were met by small boys and girls who led us by the hand down an absolutely straight path to the village. (as though we could have gotten lost!). The village consisted of a circle of a dozen grass huts, raised on stilts to keep out such undesirables as snakes and bugs and maybe tourists.
The ladies here don't sew "molas"; they hand-weave small baskets from jungle grasses, colored with natural dyes. When a cayuca trip is due, they gather from outlying settlements, set up rickety tables and display their baskets, weavings and carvings.
After we had fulfilled
our function by buying more baskets than we needed it was
time to leave. The little boy and girl guides showed up to
make sure we got safely back to the cayucas (which we could
plainly see). I decided to try out my rudimentary Spanish
in a conversation that went thus -
"Chico"
"¿Si?"
"¿Como se llama?"
"Ari"
"Bueno, Ari, gracias"
With that a dollar changed from a big hand to a small one, which earned me a flashing smile, and off he went to find another traveller in need of his jungle expertise.
Well, back to the cayuca, then to the ship and after docking in Balboa, back to Panama City and eventually home. That was the trip of a lifetime. I believe it was much more enjoyable than a super-giant cruise liner would have been, with its "supervised activities" and gambling casinos. Captain Blount was right with his "up close and personal" approach.
Do the Chocos, as well as the Cunas and the Panamanians and even the ACCL line make money from the "turistas"? Sure. That's what tourists are for. Once a person gets into that environment the thought of conserving money goes right out the porthole. And anyhow, if the trip is "once in a lifetime", that means there's the rest of a lifetime to recoup.