The moon laced clouds reflected in the sea when I went to sleep on our last night at sea on this leg. While reflections of clouds usually foster distress due to no wind this moon light on the glassy still water was mesmerizing. On the change of watch my enthusiasm for the scenery failed to penetrate Karl’s pre-caffeine semi-alert semi-asleep state. We were likely to motor most of the remaining 80 miles given the forecast of more perfect reflections. Looking for a quiet place to sleep as the engine is running, I curl up in the forepeak (front of the boat) in between the drifter in its sock and a fishing net. Gurgling awakes me 2 hours later. No engine sounds. The breeze has come up and we are sailing. In a flat calm sea with a light breeze, the forepeak is filled a persistent sound of water sliding past the hull. I fall back asleep.

By my morning watch we are motoring again. Just as those fancy computer models from around the globe has predicted the sea is glassy. The show this morning will not be the sunrise as it is grey and overcast now but the approach to Panama. Karl had spied the mountains south of Colon on his watch and in the pre-dawn light the clouds ahead are hanging in the lights of Panama. Mabel Rose is pulling along lace curtains like that look like they could hang in your grandmother’s kitchen. The water is filled with phosphorescent phytoplankton (small floating creatures that flash when we disturb them). I am torn. A curious selkie would get out the plankton net to capture some of these creatures…. A decent sailor and first mate would pay attention to the increasing traffic and not get distracted by shiny things in the water. I compromise. I toss in the small triangle net with an open bottle attached off the deckwork tether (springy piece of webbing to keep us from falling off the boat) then hang it in the head (bathroom) so I can look at them later. Back to being a sailor.

Full stomachs are essential for arriving in port. Sleep may be short and you never know what the docking and official process of entering will be like. We have a little bit of Jamaican pineapple yet so I decide a pineapple upside down cake is in order. After melting the butter in the pan, I add the pine apple to release some of it flavor to the cake. The batter is just about ready when I try and open the oven. Locked shut! I fiddle and fiddle. This is not a boat critical issue that is worth waking Karl up for although later he disagrees. I decide to attempt a stove top cake. I cover the pan and put is on the burner and rotate it every so often. It does not get brown on the top but sets up nicely. I considered using the lighter to brown the top but decide to embrace the upside-down nature of the cake. Inverted on a plate the pale white top is hidden and the focus is on the pineapple. Success an arrival cake is ready to fortify us through the landfall and docking.

Alarms about being run over will go off a lot this morning. We are getting closer to shore. Our phone fill with messages, reminders of hanging details some we can address from Panama and some we will have to let go. The ship alarms are now and immediate. These AIS alarms sound when a ship is going to come uncomfortably close or maybe run us over. (AIS – system where we know where ships are and they know where we are – look at Marine Traffic online). The large ship traffic in and out of New York Harbor has prepared us for this. We know how to stay out of the way and be aware as the ships are changing direction all the time so the alarms will sound in the moment, they are heading towards a collision with us. The straits of Gibraltar seemed just like a busy day in New York and we had not seen a lot of shipping on the way in so yes, we were surpized at the number of ships here. There are at least 30 large ships anchored west of the harbor entrance waiting for passage compared to the 7-10 large ships we often see anchored off Jones Beach in New York. Most of the ships are bulk carriers and tankers. Like New York where there is a pattern to the movements there driven by the tides providing enough water depth and air clearance beneath bridges here is seems to a contra dance to the beat of the canal opening. We watch large ships who timed their arrival perfectly or maybe payed extra, head straight into the narrow channel into the harbor towards the canal’s first lock. Ships hoist their anchors joining the dance line. The guide book said call the Port Control (air traffic control for ships) 10 miles out and Karl wakes up to make sure this happen but they cannot hear us and do not seem unconcernned about us. They are the callers in a large contra dance and we are small mice scampering across the dance floor.

We eat the stove top cake at the change of watch, are finally heard by the Port Control/Dance Caller. Waiting for a break in the traffic we scamper across the traffic lanes and enter the harbor. People fishing and paddling in small boats remind us we are not the only mice. The side of the Harbor we are heading towards has memories of troubled days. A half-exposed hull of a sunken ship of the left and the mast of a sailboat emerging from the water on our right. The marina cannot hear us and we are scrambling to phone them when suddenly an enthusiastic voice comes over the radio welcoming us. We will learn later the French catamaran behind heard us, also wanted to enter the marina and were quicker with the phone. The first indication of how we have entered a supportive community of sailing vessels moving loosely together. We slide past around the green buoys that mark another wreck around a navy vessel into the marina to our slip at the shallow end next to the mangroves. Another safe passage.