Barabara in Miraflores Locks

February 28

Ran through down locks tied to steel boat (at their request as was told) that had pulled out Amel's cleat. We insisted on being controlling boat so as to take full credit for any spectacular disaster. Ricardo, our excellent second-day advisor, did a masterful job of coordination, although he tended to micro-manage heading, virtually in single degrees, to stay lock center. This tendency was probably irrelevant to his eventually, self-admitted poor depth perception.

We entered Miraflores locks (the ones with an internet camera) around 1245, earlier than expected, and bobbed into denser Pacific water about 1330. Departing last lock, standing beneath protecting bimini, I experienced uncomfortable dampness from great crocodile tears while watching crew work lines and break apart raft in a torrential rain shower. The thoughtless miscreants then dripped water all over cockpit. Would have docked their pay had there been any.

Reunion dinner at Ranchita restaurant with numerous previously transiting buddies resulted in a raucous good time and, as has been alleged, but not confirmed, considerable consumption of adult beverage. After a relatively early night, my four crew left early this morning for journey back to, respectively, Shelter Bay and Panamarina.

May see a transit from deck level next week unless Jack & Patricia ("Whoosh") can find a line handler who is actually competent. Otherwise will have opportunity to dodge lead-weighted, sender line monkey fists (no actual monkeys are harmed during this procedure) and sail across the continent twice in a week.

The entire experience was, gratifyingly, both fascinating and uneventful.

Jack