From New York to Panama

A fairly quiet night before we arrive at New York some time tomorrow morning.

Thursday 20th October 2005

A calm day for our arrival in New York. We spent the morning doing a jig-saw, reading etc. Our arrival in New York was timed at about noon and we began to see land by about 10am. Arrival at New York by ship is spectacular. The container port we were headed for is in Brooklyn and meant that we approached under the Verrazano Bridge, past the Statue of Liberty on our left, with splendid views of the New York skyline.

The sea was very calm and the weather warm and sunny.

As we neared the port we were joined by the pilot, who arrives on board via a ladder. He takes over the directions of the ship until the arrival in the port itself.

Then the two tugs take over. The power to the engines is lowered right down and eventually shut off and the tiny tugs gently manoeuvre the ship into its place at the wharf. We were amazed at how careful the lining up by the wharf was. We didn’t feel any bump at all as we arrived alongside.

All of the manoeuvring was completed by noon,

and we then had to wait for US immigration authorities to check us all before we could go ashore. This was timed beautifully as we had time to have lunch on board.

We left the ship and walked to the edge of the dock, where we asked the official checking us out to call a taxi. New York is a big place and we had to decide which bit to visit. We chose Chinatown, which was a thirty dollar ride away. We managed to find a post office to get stamps and send cards home, and also an Internet café to send emails. However, the Internet café didn’t have the luxury of a USB port for us to send documents, so only short urgent messages got sent.

We all split up and agreed to meet at 7pm to get a taxi back to the ship for dinner. Kit and I had a good walk around Chinatown and a bit of Little Italy which is just next door. We bought some olives in a wonderful Italian deli, and had a superb coffee in Ferrara’s café just on the edge of Little Italy. In Chinatown we were amazed by the fresh fish stalls, with live crabs, lobsters and even prawns. On one stall there was a large bucket full of large frogs – also alive. The streets were also full of shops selling all manner of teas and dried vegetables. What was much more difficult was what seemed like a simple task of finding a birthday card for our fellow-traveller, Heide, whose birthday it is in a couple of days. Eventually we found one, but not really to our taste.

We all met up at about 6.30, but had forgotten we’d be meeting at rush hour. However, we were in the right place to get a cab going in the right direction. Sadly there were hardly any cabs about, and other people seemed to be waving more effectively than we were. Eventually one stopped, and after a bit of bargaining he agreed to take us – a bit of a problem having five people – especially as the ship’s wharf was in Brooklyn where he lived, and he was just about ready to finish his shift. Her hadn’t ever been to the container port, though, and it took a bit of finding! We got back to the boat fine after a walk across the port dodging the lorries etc.

We decided to take a couple of photographs of the Utrillo as we had an excellent view as we approached, but we were swiftly apprehended by a guard who admonished us and told us what we were doing was forbidden. However, HE WAS TOO LATE!! We’d already taken the pictures.

Back on board for a calm night, and again a very good dinner.

Friday 21st October 2005

We should have been arriving at about lunchtime in Norfolk, Virginia today, but the delays during the bad weather and a later than expected departure from New York meant that most of the day was spent at sea. It was really quite calm, and briefly sunny. I walked round the lower deck a few times for the exercise, and used the advantage of the calm sea to use the rowing machine and exercise bike. They are both very difficult to use when the sea is rough.
Much of the day was spent reading, doing tapestry – now almost half finished, and, of course, eating. The portions are still too large most of the time. We all hate to throw away good food, so we are all consuming far too much – our clothes will soon not fit.

By the end of the afternoon the weather was very dull and we began our approach to Norfolk by about 4.30pm. The approach to the port is through a very long channel across Chesapeake Bay. The area is criss-crossed with bridges and tunnels so people can commute to work. The Chesapeake Bridge is rather beautiful. It appears to be a wooden construction and stretches for miles. I’ll check distances etc when I get longer Internet access. The bridge crosses the main entrance to the bays, and in order for large ships and submarines to be able to get into the port it is split in the middle and the road goes through a tunnel deep under the river.
Norfolk itself is the third largest container port in the USA. It is also the home to a large military base. We approached in the twilight and then dark, but we were able to see a wide range of warships, aircraft carriers and a few submarines as we passed. We were joined by our river pilot and his trainee at the entrance to the river. The pilot told us about the intensive training for the job. The trainee who was working with him had completed all his skipper qualifications for large vessels, and was coming to the end of a six-year practical and theoretical training to receive his licence to act as a pilot. Much of the training is specific to a particular port or state of the USA. If he wants to move to another area he’ll have to do additional training to gain an extra licence. It’s fascinating to watch the interaction between the pilot, the ship’s commandant, the officers and the seamen who are at the controls. There is a set form of language, based mainly in English which is followed to ensure that messages are clearly understood and acted upon. Everything is checked and double-checked. Each number is repeated by all concerned to ensure there is no misunderstanding.

The berth allocated to the Utrillo required us to turn in the channel. Whilst the channel is wide, the ship is also very wide. All shipping needs to stop whilst a large vessel makes a turn. Tugs joined us to help the manoeuvre. The engines are slowed right down, and a tug is attached at each side of the ship. One tug pulled, the other pushed and the ship slid gently round as if by magic. We then reversed into our mooring. Again we were alongside without a single feeling of bumping into the dock wall. The skill and accuracy of the people involved are amazing. By the time we were tied up alongside it was after 7pm. All of our group of passengers decided that we wouldn’t go ashore for dinner as it was Friday evening and would be very busy. Also, dinner in the USA is taken quite early, and by the time we found a restaurant it might be too late to order! Far safer to take dinner on the ship. The departure from Norfolk was scheduled for 1am and we decided we wouldn’t stay up to watch the exercise. Next stop Savannah!!

Saturday 22nd October 2005

Heide’s birthday. We gave Heide a card, and we took champagne down to drink at lunch, but sadly she doesn’t drink champagne! Never mind, we’ll drink it some other time.
Today was spent at sea all day. Some sunshine, but mainly dull and some rain. I got a little bit sunburnt despite putting some high factor sun cream on. It’s easy to be lulled into a false sense of security when the wind is chilly – we need to be careful! We sat out for about one hour, but gave up not because of the cool air – that was nice – but because it was difficult in such a strong wind to keep the book open at the right page.

On a day at sea, we are free to do whatever we want, but the ship’s life carries on. The engines need to be attended to. There are constant discussions on the bridge (la passerelle) about sea conditions, depth, winds etc. Our steward uses days at sea to ensure all the bed linen, towels and suchlike are washed and ready for replacement. He’s an amazing character. His wife and children are in Romania, and he spends three months on board before a break of three months. When on board he works seven days a week starting at breakfast time looking after cabins. He also serves meals for the five passengers and the officers in the officers’ dining room. He manages to serve neatly even when there is a very heavy sea.

Because we left Norfolk earlier than planned it’s likely that we’ll arrive in Savannah tomorrow morning by 8 or 9 instead of lunchtime, so we’ll get a whole day there. Much talk about hurricane Wilma that is battering Cuba at the moment. It looks as though we might get embroiled in it in a couple of days. We’ll look at the BBC website when we get to Savannah to see what it foretells!

Sunday 24th October 2005

We arrived in Savannah early in the morning before breakfast time. The entrance to the Wilmington River is spectacular, and the Utrillo made sedate progress along the several miles to the container port. The river is flanked on one side by Georgia and on the other side by South Carolina. I felt as if we could touch either given a bit of a stretch.

We were met outside the entrance to the river by the river pilot, and also by our tug pilot, who would guide us safely to our moorings. The river pilot was a young man of about 30, and was telling us that he was the seventh generation of his family to be pilots on the Wilmington River. He clearly knows a great deal about the river, but he said he learned something new about it every day. His father’s advice to him was that the day he stopped learning was the day to give up being a pilot. The river is quite narrow but clearly deep. We passed several other large ships on our approach. Some ships were shielded by small tugs holding them in to the shore as we passed.

The river takes you along past the centre of Savannah itself, and though most of the population were still asleep as we passed, we saw the lovely riverside area, the city hall clock all lit up, the conference centre and many lovely old buildings. There were also a number of very extravagant private yachts moored near to the big hotels, and also more of them being attended to in the dry docks just outside the container port.

We saw several containerships moored quite close to the centre of the city, but our moorings were some way outside the city. We could see the large container cranes in the distance, and as we approached them we were joined by two tugs who accompanied us to the mooring. Again they gently nudged the ship into place, and we were tied up without noticing a single bump!
Time for a swift breakfast before getting a taxi to the city for a day out. A big day for our fellow passenger Heide who was meeting her sister-in-law, niece and family. The last time Heide saw her niece she was 12 years old and now she’s forty and has a two-year old son. The taxi driver was able to come right to the ship, which was good as we were some distance from the dock gates. In some places we are allowed to walk to the gates, but not in Savannah. The city is calm and quiet. As we were visiting on a Sunday we were concerned that everything might be shut, but in fact almost everything was open. There is a very lively riverside walk area, which got livelier later in the day with musicians performing along the way. Lots of shops – sadly a lot of the stuff for sale was tourist stuff, but, as we found in New York, the welcome from the locals was enthusiastic. I’m not really sure, however, how to respond when the twentieth person asks me ‘ Well, how are YOU today?’

We walked for miles through the streets of Savannah, old by US standards, but not by British ones. We were able to use the Internet at a café in the centre of the commercial district. We then set out to find somewhere to get a bite of lunch. There were lots of places on the riverfront, but we wanted to find somewhere a bit less commercialised. We asked a chap with a bicycle where he would eat, and he recommended Clary’s (we found out later it called itself world-famous) where we had corned beef hash and grits – very traditional in the south, and a seafood omelette. We’d both wondered what grits were – they’re rather like semolina pudding but served with butter rather than sugar. I don’t think we’ll have them again! The atmosphere in the café was very comfortable and we ate outside watching the world go by.

The city council in Savannah is keen to get people to use public transport and there is a shuttle bus, which takes almost the same route as the tourist buses. The tourist buses charge $25 a head, the shuttle is free, but you don’t get the commentary. You can guess which we chose. We passed many large elegant villas, many decorated with pumpkins as Halloween approaches. It’s certainly a very gracious city.

When we were in the Internet café we checked on the progress of Hurricane Wilma and found that it is very likely that we will have to cross its path at some time in our voyage. It was the main news item on the UK BBC News Home Page.

Taxi back to the boat and then dinner.

Kit and I spent the evening on the bridge until just before midnight watching the departure from Savannah and spotting the places we had visited during the day. This was a really lovely day out!

Monday 25th October 2005

By the middle of the night it was clear that the sea was becoming more blustery. In the morning when we were up on the bridge we were advised not to go onto the outside decks, especially the round-the-boat bottom deck. I was not even slightly tempted to do so! It was very rough and windy. However, we slowed down to 5 knots, a quarter of the usual speed of the vessel for all of the day to ensure we didn’t meet the hurricane head-on. During the night we were due to cross the path of Hurricane Wilma and indeed we did so, but with minimal disruption to passengers, crew and the working of the ship. Monday night was very rough and neither Kit nor I slept very well, but neither did we feel at risk. The Commandant and crew clearly take a very careful and conservative approach to working with storms. We were very glad about this.

During much of the day on Monday it was very difficult to walk around on the ship, and none of us felt much like going outside anyway.

We were glad to send back emails to family at home to let them know we’d passed the hurricane safely.

Food on board.
We have long been amused by the French way of lunch. Over many years holidaying in France we have noted the increase in road traffic at 1145 and the complete absence of traffic at 1215 as all good French workers go home for a three [or more] course lunch. After we had spent a winter in France we had become accustomed to this ritual, but until we joined the Utrillo, we had not realised how ingrained ‘dejeuner’ was into the fabric of French life. With a little care we can read the runes of how the boat is operating; who is on shift; any matters that merit attention and so forth. Breakfast is an unremarkable self-service affair. Perfectly adequate and recognisable anywhere in the world. Coffee, tea, toast, yoghurt fruit etc. The two main meals of the day however are a different matter.

Passengers on a freight ship occupy a curious half world. Not crew by any means, but not officers either. We are regarded as ‘self loading cargo’ by the company, quasi-officers by the ratings and a necessary evil by the officers. We share the officers mess and have starched linen table cloths, house wine on the table and waiter service.

[TIP If you find yourself doing one of these, bring a stick of ordinary teacher’s blackboard chalk with you. As the boat moves around, it is impossible to pour red wine to several people without spilling a drip or so. The tablecloths are changed weekly, and by the end of a few days it looks like a slaughterhouse. Gravy, vinaigrette and a host of other foodstuffs display the menus preceding. Chalk will conceal the worst of these blunders]

However we are expected to arrive at meal times 30 minutes before the officers. A typical menu might be sea food salad as the first course, followed by sole meuniere with ‘pommes gratinee’ and a salad, and always followed by cheese, and a pudding or fruit. We arrive to find our starters on the plate. We are expected to have finished our starters by the time the officers arrive for their lunch. Meanwhile, they [having put on formal shirts not expected of us] have been having drinks in the officers bar close by. This is not to suggest that the ship is particularly formal in any respect other then the respect that the average Frenchman will show for his lunch. Our starters are cleared as the officers enter the mess. To a man they greet us with good wishes to enjoy our meal as they settle to theirs. Our main courses are served whilst the officers eat their starters and so forth. One side effect of this staggered eating arrangement is that the cheese board [always a selection of at least seven] leaves the fridge so that the cheese is served at the correct temperature for the officers – a little on the cold side for the passengers. Fussy or what!
As holidaymakers, we take longer over our meals than the officers, and we notice the slight tension as their meal finishes. All the junior officers make sure to have finished their fruit before the Captain who will suddenly push his chair back. All rise and repair to the adjoining room where coffee is served. [Ours is served upstairs in the passengers lounge]. Wine is on the officers table as it is on ours, but those on duty take only a half glass with their cheese, and those going off duty take a glass with each course.

The chef regularly produces meals worthy of a decent hotel whilst the kitchen is rolling about. Regular crashes are heard as tin trays fly from surfaces. It seems miraculous to me, but I suppose it’s a necessary skill for a sea-going chef.

The menu card is produced daily by the cadet [Luc – see below] who delights in amusing us with pictures on the menu. We were discussing what sort of fish was on the menu until we noticed the illustration from Tintin – the old sea dog, Captain Haddock! As we approached Hurricane Wilma, the central illustration was the meteorological chart showing the position of the boat and the tropical storm. We could tell the crew were taking the storm seriously because of their behaviour at meals. Naturally we were warned not to go outside the main command and accommodation block of the boat, but when we saw the water bottles on the dining tables had been laid on their sides with cork wedges to stop them rolling, we knew it was serious. Similarly when the first officer is missing when we are in port we know that the loading is taking longer than expected. When things are really serious however, all officers appear at the table to show that nothing is giving cause for concern.

And that’s only lunch. The same procedure occurs daily at supper time. The passengers have become institutionalised and operate our lives around when the next meal is. This comes naturally to the French, and we have slipped into the routine of discussing what is for supper before we have even finished lunch. All this is fine if you are a hard working sailor. If you are an indolent passenger the quantities become oppressive. We have tried asking for reduced portions, but our requests are ignored. As all the passengers have been ‘nicely brought up’ we try to finish the food that has been put on our plates. With four or more large courses, this has become impossible and so we leave large portions on our plates to be cleared away. It goes straight into the bin! Its not as if the food is in any way inedible, rather the reverse. There’s just so much of it. I guess the standard portion is large and we’ll just have to deal with it.
Well, its thirty minutes before the next meal, and so time for the passengers to gather in the passenger lounge for a pastis before the meal.

[TIP Ensure that your will power is fully primed and operational. There is no logistical excuse for refusing food or drink. If you finish the wine on the table, more is brought. If you finish the food, more is brought. If you don’t like the small-ish breakfast, speak to the chef and a full cooked breakfast will be served to you every morning until you stop it or have a coronary. The ships store opens when we are in international waters. Calvados is 4 euros a bottle! Fine wine from Burgundy and Beaujolais is between 4 and 10 euros a bottle. Toothpaste is more expensive, so clean your teeth in whisky!]

Tuesday 26th October 2005

Sea still rough today, but calmed a lot by the evening. A quiet night.

Wednesday 27th October 2005

Today was a very calm day. Though we passed Cuba during a spectacular thunderstorm. The afternoon was very pleasant and we sat outside on one of the decks getting a bit of sun. We filled in the next set of customs forms for Manzanillo where we expect to arrive tomorrow some time. The weather is definitely becoming Caribbean with hot sunshine and very humid air. The colour of the sea is beginning to change and become more blue.
The cadet officer told us that the pool would be filled this afternoon, and indeed it was ready for use by 5.30pm. It is filled with sea water. The temperature of the water today was 31 degrees – not bad!! The pool is very small – about 4 metres by 3 metres and is about 4 feet deep all the way across. There is a rope attached to both corners at one end with hand-holds to use for exercises. I had a bit of a swim. It’s a bit alarming that the pool is clearly on the way from the engine room to somewhere else, so there was a constant parade of crew members greeting me as I swam.

The night was also calm and we both slept well. Indeed, we almost missed breakfast.

Thursday 27th October 2005

Woke to a very grey sky, but the temperature is still high – in the thirties today. We had several heavy outbursts of rain and then warm sunny spells – traditional Caribbean weather. At last Kit and I finished the jigsaw we started over a week ago. We were convinced until the last couple of pieces that it was incomplete, but it is on the table in the passenger lounge in all its glory!
We expect to arrive in Manzanillo tonight at about 8pm. By the time we’ve tied up it will probably be 10pm, so we won’t go ashore tonight. We hope that we’ll get the day to explore but the latest word is that we’ll be setting off again first thing in the morning. If this happens it will be disappointing as we will then have missed two of the shore points to visit. It is good being at sea, and despite my fears before the voyage started the days actually fly by. We don’t actually HAVE to do anything, but there are visits to the bridge to check on progress, walks around the deck, visits to the library and gym, and also energetic bouts of sunbathing. By the time evening comes we are usually quite tired. We’ve only watched a DVD once. The DVD player is also now broken (not our fault!), so we don’t have that as an option. Maybe someone will buy one if we spend a day in Manzanillo?? Nevertheless, one reason for doing a voyage like this is to see some interesting places. For Raymond and Jeanine, our fellow passengers this is ‘the trip of a lifetime’ that they’ve saved up for. They’re going all the way round the world having started as we did at Le Havre, and they will return to Le Havre in January 2006.

The loading and unloading took until about 6am and we were off by 7. So, we missed the chance for a day in Manzanillo. It’s probably because it costs a lot of money to be in dock, and its free to put down the anchor in the sea. We discovered that we will be going through the Panama Canal tomorrow – time yet to be agreed – so we’ll be at anchor just outside Manzanillo all day.
Different countries’ dockside working practices.

As a layman, I find it interesting to watch how containers are loaded and unloaded. I’m impressed by the size of the machinery which hoists 40 ton 40 feet long boxes around as if they are featherweights, and yet place them with great accuracy – mostly. Yet there are marked differences between methods used in France, the USA and Panama. Every port offers us two huge cranes of very similar style.

In Le Havre, two little container ‘shepherds’ service each huge crane. They rush off to the container park where they can straddle a pile of containers up to three high. They pick one, self-load it, bring it to the space under the huge crane, and place it accurately so that the large crane driver doesn’t have to move his crane to collect the container – only the hoist. The large crane then picks the box, swings it up and places it - moving in and out along his jib. He returns and the second ‘shepherd’ has placed another box on the quayside, and so it goes. I have no idea how many times each box is handled before it reaches the container farm, but for the loading, two men and machines serve one large crane.

US dockside practices seem to have full employment rather than speed as their watchword. Each container is brought under the large crane by an articulated lorry and trailer. This lorry is loaded in the container farm by a huge fork lift-type truck, and when it arrives under the crane, a man [who appears to have no other job] raises his hand as the lorry approaches and lets it fall when the lorry is correctly placed under the crane. There is a constant queue of lorries under the crane, so I guess that 10 lorries service each large crane, plus of course the ‘positioning’ man and the crew in the container farm. There are several other men hanging around whose purpose I can’t work out.

We were late leaving Savannah. There was some problem with the last two containers which required them to be removed and replaced a few times. Groups of men studied them. As we weren’t going anywhere, the pilot and I were chatting on the bridge. I asked what the problem was with the container. He looked at his watch and said that it probably needed another ten minutes work, as that would take the whole crew into overtime! Magically, the problem seemed to be solved at 2201!

The system in Manzanillo is much like the US system, but has more people hanging around whose role I couldn’t work out. Still, the Spanish style of working has lots of folk hanging around, and the labour is doubtless cheaper also.

Friday 28th October 2005

It was, indeed, a very pleasant day. We sat out on deck and read our books. The sun was very strong, and the temperature was well up into the thirties. It was very pleasant outside when we found a slightly breezy spot to sit in the shade. We also had a look at the charts and discovered that Manzanillo’s man reason for existence is as a gateway to the canal, and used to be called Colon. I can’t imagine why they changed the name. The harbour mouth has two entrances, one small and one large. Using the large one leads directly into the Gatun straight.

The pool was filled and we were able to swim. I also did some rowing and cycling in the gym. This is undoubtedly much easier when the ship is not moving!!

At dinner the officers were called to the bridge as we needed to change our position in the ‘parking’. To bed at about 9.30.

Saturday 29th October 2005

The Panama Canal
We were originally under the impression that we would be beginning the transit of the canal around 0700 – 0800, but we were woken at 0445 by a phone call from the Captain telling us that we were approaching the Gatun locks. We dressed as quickly as we could and made it up to the bridge within five minutes. We nearly tripped over the lock pilot’s box of tricks, which is a laptop complete with its own satnav, wifi, radio and goodness knows what else. It rivals the box of tricks our boys use to drive the boat. I expect the pilots can’t always rely on the level or accuracy of the equipment that ships may turn up with.

The locks are an amazing feat of construction, opening in 1913 and rising over 50 metres in a triple ‘staircase’. Approaching in the dark all you can see is a narrow strip of water that seems too small for large ships to pass each other, with a wall of lights and lock gates ahead. We are steered into the right hand set of locks and up we go. There are little engines that run alongside us at every lock. They are not large enough to tow us, and so can only be to keep our bow and stern lines taut so that we don’t bump into the sides. The Utrillo is not quite a ‘Panamax’ [the largest vessel that can pass through the canal and built to the specifications of the locks, as were the US warships USS New Jersey and her class] but we have only half a metre spare on each side of us and two metres spare on the length. Later today a Panamax vessel that really fill the locks will be passing through. It seems impossible it will fit as we are so snug, and it is bigger!
The Gatun lock pilot is a skinny American who tells us he has retired twice, but they keep bringing him back. He lives here and loves it. We wonder about the running of key sections of the canal after the Americans left on December 31st 1999. The mechanics all seem to work OK, but our lake pilot seems very young [like the surgeons and policemen!] and does not radiate the confidence of the other pilots we have encountered so far. More later about this.

The Panamanians must be very pleased to have the canal under their jurisdiction as during its first four years under Panamanian control the canal contributed $870 million dollars to the economy. During the 85 years the United States ran the canal, Panama received only double that figure in total. In 2003, the canal earned Panama $666 million dollars in fees for the transit of 11,725 ships. An average of $56,000 per ship, but I suppose it saves weeks of travel and fuel round the Cape. It must be cost effective or no-one would do it. These figures were all supplied in an information leaflet issued by the Canal Authority the ACP.

It takes about two and a half hours to pass though the locks and we emerge into Gatun lake. We have to wait here for a few hours and so we anchor up with other boats that are heading our way. This is very satisfactory as it gives us a chance to have breakfast without missing anything. Around 1100 we are under way again.

We had been told that an unusual tropical storm was due to hit Panama, but that we should not be affected. It all depends on how you judge affected. The sky blackened and we could see the rain clouds approaching us fast. We came down hastily from the compass deck [the very top above the bridge] as not only was the rain very heavy, but included lightning. It’s a great view from the compass deck, but as all the boat’s aerials, satellite stuff, radar etc is up there, I don’t want to be near it during lightning. We just got down in time as the torrential rain started. Real tropical rainforest stuff, and suddenly we could see nothing as we were in the thick of the clouds. We were only worried about the rain, but it seems our young pilot was not sufficiently worried about the lack of visibility. We became aware of a real commotion on the bridge. The captain was shouting, all the officers were in a group by the wheel and the pilot was alone at the side of the wheelhouse. Outside the bridge we could see repeaters that show the rudder setting and engine speed. Most unusually, the speed was put to Full Astern [from Slow Ahead] and the rudder was reversed. Out of the mist appeared a lane buoy – the wrong side – and we were passing it at an angle, not letting it pass alongside. One of the islands loomed up out of the mist dead ahead. At this point we could also see a small Panamanian police launch alongside the other side of the Utrillo with its blue light flashing. It seems our cocky young pilot had nearly run us into an island because he couldn’t see, despite all the electronic gubbins, and wouldn’t slow down. I don’t like to think of what might have happened if the captain had not been alert, or the police launch had not turned up.

For the rest of the transit, the young pilot remained on the bridge, but the body language we could see though the windows demonstrated clearly that no-one was taking any further notice of him – despite his calling of directions. His machismo was seriously dented – to the extent that he looked severely embarrassed. Does this get reported as a serious incident? Our officers referred to it later as ‘un quartier chaud’ which we might translate as getting into hot water. The pilot might claim that nothing actually happened, which I suppose is true, but had it not been for emergency action by our captain the consequences might have been severe – not to say inconvenient for the Panamanian authorities.

The rain clears as suddenly as it had started. Gatun lake is my idea of a tropical rainforest. Gently steaming lush vegetation with wonderful little beaches. Sometimes these are inhabited by crocodiles, and doubtless other animals that detract from descriptions of paradise. It looks great however as we slowly glide by.

The Gaillard cut is another man made wonder of the world. Joining Gatun lake with the locks that descend to the Pacific ocean, the Gaillard cut is 13.7 kilometres long and not less than 92 metres wide. It sounds a lot, but we are 30 metres wide, and have to leave room for anyone coming the other way……. The canal authorities are widening this stretch to allow the simultaneous passage of two Panamax vessels. Clearly accurate placing of the vessel is critical, and as the canal bends and turns, hillsides full of markers appear that need to be lined up correctly. Modern electronics help as the lights on the markers change colour according to the steering correction needed. Who needs pilots anyway.

Three sets of locks allow for our descent. The first, Pedro Miguel looks just like the locks on the Oxford canal, but bigger and with tugs. The Miraflores locks are another ‘staircase’ of two locks. We were waving at the webcam there in case any of our friends were looking. Leaving the last Miraflores lock as darkness fell, we saw the pilot slink away on his launch, then the linesmen who passed our ropes onto the little engines on theirs. Status I suppose that he gets his own launch, but maybe he’s going to give the benefits of his dubious advice to another lucky vessel. The canal is after all a 24 hour service. Later we passed under the Bridge of the Americas which links the South American continent to Central and North America. The Pan-American highway. Amazing thought, even though it looks like the Tyne Bridge writ large. Down the straight shipping lane, and into the Pacific. The captain and officers are all so late for dinner that the passengers have left the table before they arrived. I imagine that after such a long and hard day they have left a rating in charge on the bridge and are having a couple of very stiff ones in the ward room. I expect ratings to be in charge for much of the next few days. The autopilot has been set to steer 250 degrees and we keep at it for another eight days until we arrive in Tahiti.

Eight days at sea.