SailBlog

It is incredible, that no matter how much energy is put into staging preparation for something as important as the transit of the Panama Canal, not unlike preparing to sail around the world, there was no way to prevent the stalling and set-backs; once we left the anchorage and entered the locks, we either made it or we would have to be towed at monumental cost; there was no turning back or stopping to take on what we needed; we would have to make do with what we had on board; at 10pm the night before, I am just returning to the boat with provisions to feed the crew required, 5 able bodied young men in my case, for the expected 2 day event. We could dream of making it in one day, but it seemed that it would be wishing on all the stars to align at once to make that happen; far from how the process had gone up till now... I wasn't wishing on stars, just sick to my stomach with fear that we wouldn't make it at all. But during my meditation before I fell asleep, there was a gentle reassurance that this time we would make it through, but I couldn't have imagined the extent of synchronicity and graciousness that would be revealed to get us there. I did fall asleep and slept quite peacefully for a few hours. I still had early morning calls to make and details to tidy up.

I quickly ate my breakfast and headed to the internet cafe. Bob and I were able to have one more chat before I would head off, his encouragement always shared with complete confidence in me; he assured me that no matter what occurred, we would deal with it and I would get to the other side. He was holding all the world up for me as I continued to follow my dream of completing my journey and writing my book; We ached inwardly to be together; our dreams locked together in the greatest hopes for our future... but first I had to get through this blasted canal. It was as if the history of the canal itself; the immensity of the challenges that faced the visionaries that brought it to reality; the engineering feats created that would change the world so dramatically; it was as if all that history was rushing to meet me; the energy of struggle yet creative power that excavated river and Lake Gatun were calling out to me... and all I need to do is pass through it.

The crew assembled, late per Panamanian time, the same schedule that had left us still installing the engine bracket early last evening... yet there was an ease to the spirits of the young fellows, all near my sons�' ages in their late twenties, maybe thirty. They had done this crossing so many times and were smiling with that grin of contentment to be heading off, but on such a small boat this time, undaunted in their comfort level, each a small bag in hand and their phone, the principal entertainment. It would be two days of passage of time for them, or so they thought...or maybe they too sensed that this passage would be an adventure. Somehow, life on Inspired Sanity is always an adventure.

In no time, each fellow had settled into a comfortable enough spot for them. They did not seem inconvenienced in any way at the prospect of being on such a minimal vessel...no seat cushions or comfortable seats to sit in, only a hard bed to anticipate overnight. They all shrugged off the accommodations as no worry to them at all, and I was totally put at ease by them, gentlemen... each smiling kindly at me with all availability to do whatever I might ask and to do what they knew already to do as professional line handlers.

As for the last attempt, Eric was there to lead the fellows and be my translator, while taking the role of working with me with the engine. It would be a long day as someone had to manage the throttle and steer the outboard engine off the back from the seat in the cockpit while someone else, or Eric's foot, in calmer territory, would manage the tiller. There was no way to lock the engine from turning...an extravagance the engine didn't have. But the engine sounded fine this morning as it came to life with only a few pulls of the cord. I was trying to allow myself to become more relaxed. I so wanted to enjoy the crossing over, able to take in the mighty Panama Canal having read the history. I would be imagining the stages of progress, the passion and romance of the vision; the race to build the first and what would be the only shortcut to cross from the Atlantic to Pacific Oceans; the tragedy of illness that ravaged the workforce and management alike, the engineering feats tha t were so spectacular that 100 years later, they have not been improved upon, the canal still functioning with its original design perfectly.

The outboard engine gently purrs as we dawdle waiting for the Canal advisor to join us. Just like the situation with the inspectors, I had heard such diverse stories of experiences with advisors... some seeming to be totally over the inconveniences and quite stoic, others becoming engaged with the crews. I could only hope that whoever we had was willing to work with me and the meager accommodations without dismay. I was trying to remain positive, trusting that the engine and bracket, the conditions would all be manageable.

I'd had 8 years of experiences trying to forge through sea conditions with an outboard off the port side of Inspired Insanity... I had come to expect the outrageous situations that would arise as I tried to make my way out of the Palm Beach Inlet, the currents and swells a nemesis. The adventures we had were all but disastrous as somehow I managed to avoid being caught in arms against a seawall over and over. There was rare a time we managed to dock without some manhandling, fending off, or need to make a last ditch change of plan to accommodate the unexpected, or maybe nearly expected stall of the engine at the least opportune time. My heart was in my throat but ... I was settling in to a slightly encouraged demeanor. The crew was already joking amongst themselves and getting things organized on deck. We would be fine.

I give our position over the VHF periodically, letting the pilot team know where we were, but didn't hear anything back from them...then I hear a familiar voice, "inspired Insanity, Inspired Insanity, Clarysse"... It was James and Jen, on a 36' 1973 Hallberg Rossy, a recent acquisition for them; a couple heading for St Thomas to continue their education, future cruisers to be, young and quite ambitious and incredibly confident and laid back. The boat is a classic and in classic condition, still in the stages of doing the more fundamental work, the cosmetics leave the imagination stirred as I could envision this boat under the skilled hands of my Bob, the varnish slick as glass, the hull shining. She is a beauty to be. James and Jen and I had met on the dock in La Playita when they first arrived. I was supposed to have crossed that next day while they were in preparation. "Switch to 13" I return their hail. "switching up". "Hey Donna. We heard you calling with no one answering. We just got a call from our advisor. He said that they would still be another hour to get here, so just a heads up...it may still be a while", James says. "Great...thanks for letting me know. This is great...maybe we will end up being rafted up in the locks.", I return with great enthusiasm. "That would be awesome. See you later I hope.", James says. "Inspired Insanity back to 12". "Clarysse, standing by on 12".

Instantly, I felt a surge of positive energy. It was evident then that we were going to have synchronicity following us today. It was such a relief to know that I would be in proximity to an American boat, a sweet couple, and they had all the wonderful attributes of true sailors of the sea, camaraderie and that age old mariner�'s oath to take care of each other on the sea. At least now I sensed I had an advocate...

We were already off to a slow start as the Advisor didn't board until 8:30am, but it was a relief to watch him toss off his backpack to one of the fellows on the deck and take the leap to the deck without any sign of frustration or importunity. He first said hello to the crew who helped him on, then turned to me with a gentle smile but a confidence that was reassuring to me; yet at the same time, I was trying to ascertain...how much would he be willing to help me get through the canal? At what point would he baulk at the awkward situation we were in, needing two sets of hands to manage the engine and all... Would he make us turn back at the first sputter of something wrong with the engine? What does he know about engines?

The advisor said hello but didn't really introduce himself. He engaged immediately with Eric and the fellows, but was considerate of me. I had decided to pay my agent for his handlers precisely for this reason, so that the advisor would feel he had experienced fellows on board he could work with, and it was working. But I could not relinquish my own role as the captain. None of these guys were sailors or captains... they had never been in my position and I needed to win the respect of the whole group so that if we did have issues, they would respect my intuition. We started to head up the river inland that would lead to the first locks, still a mile and a half ahead. We were all settling into the day.

I asked the advisor if he I could get him anything and he let me know that he had not had breakfast... I hadn't planned on feeding the advisor breakfast and had limited resources for the crew for the next morning, but I pulled out the eggs and precooked bacon and made sure he'd had enough. I had begun to ask him some questions... he had been an advisor since 2002... he was experienced for sure... I was so hoping that we would not need to be pleading with him to be patient with us as we had issues... little did I know the role he would play.

We were only halfway to the first lock when the engine began to sputter...my head jerking around, a look of terror on my face as I peered into Eric's eyes; he was equally staring back into mine. We knew what that could mean. It didn't seem to bring any reaction to the advisor, not yet. But it was as if the bubble burst for me. Somewhere, there was water in the fuel system. My mind now was doubting to what extent the mechanic addressed the issue that the engine had stalled in our first attempt as the head of the engine got swamped when the bracket broke. I didn't take it upon myself to double check and clean the filter. I was kicking myself already.

Within a few hundred yards, the change in the tones of the engine drew the advisor�'s attention and his face revealed that he was concerned, though he didn't say anything. I was mumbling that there was probably some water in the filter... after all, gasoline is always getting water in it. As soon as we got in the lock, I would pull it out, clean it, and refill it with fresh fuel... but inwardly I knew that if the engine was sputtering, the water may have already affected the carburetor, my whole being was suddenly slumped in despair, trying to keep the tears back, not knowing whether to pull the plug on the attempt to cross. This situation could only get worse.

The sputtering continued, then the engine started to make the decelerations I would have expected... Eric kept the fuel bulb in his hand, pumping it to keep the fuel moving, the engine running, but that was going to use huge amounts of fuel and eventually would not work if there was water in the filter... there may have been water in the fuel tank to add insult to injury. Eric gave me a smile of 'It will be OK... This will work"... and I knew that, it was not going to work. The advisor did not step in, but now was on board with the realization that the engine was faltering. Then, unexpectedly, the engine stalled... but not from water. Something else was wrong.

As I turned to Eric, I saw that the fuel line was in his hand, fuel squirting out the end. The jury rig we had made because the fittings of the engine were not the same as the fuel tank, had come apart. I had a flush of relief pass over me...that was a simple thing to fix. I stepped in at this point. I knew exactly what to do... and while I was there, I twisted off the fuel filter and dumped it...filling it with fresh fuel. I couldn't tell if it had been full of water with the lighting the way it was, but clearing that filter was the only thing that I was capable of doing to fix this engine. If the carburetor was going to fail on us, I couldn't fix it. I had tried dealing with carburetors, but was always unsuccessful, having to find a local outboard mechanic to mess with them.

At this point, all eyes were on me as I bent over the engine and quickly made the repairs... I turned to the advisor and explained that I was a captain, had an outboard for many years on the boat as well as had diesel engines. I was only too aware of the complications we could have. The advisor looked at me with little expression, but he didn't flinch at all when we started the engine back up and it would idle, though it was no longer idling as smoothly... We both knew that if it would idle, we had a chance. I asked Eric to rev it up a bit so that we could see if it would become fuel starved under a load... it seemed to settle into a rhythm, not perfect, but it was powering up. We had a reprieve and the advisor was willing to allow us to continue. I was the one most apt to pull the plug... my realistic self, but also pessimistic self, showing through. I was going to be on edge now for the whole trip. The advisor has us throttle down. It was there practice to raft boats together across the locks to secure as many boats as possible. The Canal authorities actually planned the rafted groups ahead. My heart leaped a few beats when I heard the name of Clarysse midst the boats we were going to be rafted with. They were still behind us. We would wait for them.

Once Clarysse made their way to us, we shared a happy reunion. The advisors were now talking at length between themselves and when they finally stopped, they explained. They planned for me to raft up to Clarysse at this point, even though there was still a little way to the lock. They decided to try to avert any issues with my engine by ensuring I made it into the locks... but I knew at that point that if I allowed them to get us into the locks, I was committing to the whole canal and potential outcomes...If the engine failed later on, we were going to have to be towed by a tug. At that moment, I had to decide whether I was willing to take that chance. I spoke with the advisors glibly, "At this point, no matter the cost, I am getting to the other side... if I have to be towed, they just have to promise to take me to the Caribbean side, no matter how far". They smiled at me with a warm smile of understanding ... still seeming at ease and not frazzled by the potential of a prob lem.

I was exchanging glances with James and Jen, and then they spoke with their advisor... At that moment, they all came to a consensus that, despite the rules that do not permit another yacht to aid me, and regardless of a potential slower pace and added stress on Clarysse's engine, that James and Jen and the advisors would work with the situation allowing James to tow me or raft me along if needed to get me through the canal. I held back tears, but the huge sigh I let out was so audible, the ancient energies of the canal workers heard me... little did they know the destinies that would meet along this pathway between the seas, not just a canal, but creating a possibility for those of us who love the sea ... the opportunity to pass from the Atlantic to the Pacific without having to ship a boat or forge Cape Horn.

I expressed with all of my being, my face, my energy, my words, and my smile, the incredible relief I felt. I was going to make it through the canal this time thanks to the wholly graciousness of all of those on board both boats as it was not going to be easy, and they would all know what it is to venture with Inspired Sanity, the adventure, but also the exhilaration and sense of accomplishment that somehow goes along with the challenges we would meet.

The locks were straight forward. The advisors were still hoping for a one-day passage. There was a ship that had a later Lock-down time that may provide enough time for us to make it to the Gatun locks in time for its passage today. But, though we all talked as if maybe the two boats rafted together could 'help each other' along the way... I knew that James knew...and he knew that I knew... that was not true. James would have fared much faster alone for sure, and we also may have done better on our own, but the insecurity that we all felt in my engine and even the amount of fuel we had on board, the fuel tank seeming to always be empty and the fellows refilling it... we stayed rafted to keep us together. The stanchions on Clarysse that supported the fenders between us were taking a beating... but the saving grace, or I should say, the only way we could have managed to avoided destroying our boats, was that both of our boats were built in an era of boatbuilding when the hulls and decks were made of solid glass, heavy and stiff; Mine a 1982 and Clarysse, a 1973. We were a matched pair. If either of us had tried to raft to a modern boat, it would have been disastrous to the modern hull and deck design.

As we left the locks, we were midst the incredible engineering feat of the Culebra Cut, the tiered cut edges still lining the mountain sides, my imagination saw the huge shovels and the train tracks that hauled the excavated earth away. The limiting factor in the progress of creating the cut was the hauling of the dirt away from the site. It would become the fill used for the Gatun dam and the creating of the town of Balboa, an area of ocean filled on the Pacific side, just east of the canal. McCullough did a magnificent job of detailing the work force, the huge contracted machines that were created. The Canal created an incredible boom to the industrial age of America. And the government and investors were throwing the kind of financial backing at the venture that, combined, barred no expense or level of expertise to accomplish this incredible feat, something that the French were unable to do.

But it was also the advances of time and the ground work the French laid which was vital as it allowed the US to have a greater vision of what they were up against. Truth to be told, it was still that French, Phillip Boureau Villa who drove the vision for the US to complete the Panama Canal. The US surveys had always favored creating a canal in Nicaragua, a somewhat more tame location. In the end, the French were vindicated in part by destiny to have their canal finished. One of the few deterrents to building in Nicaragua was the potential of volcano activity. A volcano erupted in Nicaragua during the decision-making process, swaying the last of those intent on a Nicaraguan canal to adopt the plan to complete the canal in Panama. Mother nature spoke.

As we made our way toward the mouth of the Chagras river onto the canal course, the reality of the challenge that this river imposed, also thwarted us, creating 2 kts of current against us�... suddenly having the boats rafted together became more tenuous, waves crushing up between the boats, though tightly rafted with spring lines, creating increased stresses as the boats bounced off each other. But James and Jen were not worried�... Their engine was fairing fine and we were going to get through it. Finally we crossed the mouth of the Chagras and the forces decreases, but as the afternoon went on and the waters opened up to bigger expanses, the seas began to increase to 2-3 feet, occasionally four.

I was quite surprised just how rough it was, realizing that IS with an outboard as a motor could have been swamped over and over, even if the engine had functioned perfectly from the start. Years of relying on an outboard off the stern of Inspired Insanity had proven so unreliable in any real seastate, cavatating as the prop would surface as IS would hobby out of the water in anything more than a 2-3 foot wave, equally being swamped in any low trough, and having to be mounted on the port side because my steering vane is mounted mid-stern, God forbid I have a starboard breeze to gust and heel us over, the engine being doused... a port breeze to gust would heel the engine completely out of the water! As we approached the lake, I was aware every moment of the potential of problems�... the realist surfacing�... Eric�'s face still beamed with a smile, his faith unfaltering.

The moment came when the stresses trying to stay rafted were wrong�... The seas were covering the decks, all the crew and even those in the cockpit getting wet by now. We were going to have to separate. Inspired Sanity would be on her own, and in conditions that I knew could be untenable�... but we let go the lines�... it was so quick that we neglected to get the spare fuel on board Clarysse we had intended to have available�...

Suddenly, after all the concern for our ability to maneuver, we were in the most challenging situation we could face�... big seas and we just prayed that the engine would run�... Eric was on my left with his hands to the throttle�... I was on the tiller now. We fell off nearly washed to beam by the time we got some momentum going with the engine, despite the earlier sputtering, roared to life and accelerating without any difficulty�... I had to tack the seas to keep us from cavatating or swamping the engine, keeping the wind to starboard first, keeping the engine in the water�... I was holding my breath the whole time, as we would climb a wave and then plunge into the trough, my body cringing and releasing as I waited to hear how the engine would respond�... A few times it started to decelerate but only to quickly perk back up to pace. The advisor was directing me toward the red bouys to the left but I knew that I had to tack the channel and luckily we were all alone, Clarysse, already strides ahead using her diesel. The crew were my saving grace as they moved around the boat with their weight to keep us trim.

The farther we went, the closer we got to the shore, decreasing the seastate. The advisor was cueing me with the speed we were making and tapped my shoulder to show me were making 4 kts now�.... And in no time, we were making 5kts, the seas settling down. The advisor says to me, �" Stay as close as you can to the red bouys. We may still make the lock�... the ship isn�'t onto us yet�". I had no thought that we would make the locks on time, but the fact that the advisor was exhilerated by it all was great. It was dark by now and we were following the channel without any problem. The ship did appear over in the channel and pass us. We would not make the lock. The seas picked up again, but the wind was on the starboard side again so we heeled in the right direction, the crew again helping trim the boat. We were at least going to make the Lake for sure�... We had done it.

We finally arrive at what was once an active yacht club at Gatun, now a facility for the workers. It took several attempts to anchor in the nearly 80�' water, tossing out all the rode I had, and a bit of line as well�... But the wind had died down to a calm. The adventure was over�... The advisor smiled with no apologies needed�... He had enjoyed the day�... The advisor on Clarysse as well. It would have been nice to have had a bit of a relaxing time with the crew of Clarysse, but the truth was, we were all exhausted. I had cooked dinner along the way. It was still hot. We all ate a local type meal of rice, beans, chicken and vegetables with a local type of flavoring�... some extra tomato paste Jenn had given me. The fellows all found some space on the deck and in the cockpit. I heard their phones still playing tunes and videos they were watching. I cleaned the dishes and layed down�... the relief passing over my body as I finally laid down. We had made it. Tomorrow we just had the locks and final stretch to the Marina.

I was in phone range and sent off a text to Bob�... We were safe and sound, but I would not be able to relate the real story �... miracle it had been that we were there�... that would come later.

Keepin On Sailin On caring�... Prayers. Later I spoke to our agent. He said that when I informed him that we were having trouble with the engine, he got down on his knees and prayed with all his heart for a solution�...Roy is all about solutions�... and they came.

Fairest of winds and the love of the Oceans, Only Gratitude Donna