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Published: April 12th 2006
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Mariner waits in the warm, humid early morning to begin our journey through the Panama Canal. Alan is up at 5:30am to join other passengers who are waiting on deck in the dark determined to watch it all.
I climb out of bed, put on my Regent robe and place a call to room service for coffee and a croissant. Before long, I’m standing on the balcony holding a steaming cup of coffee. The smell of diesel fuel permeates the air. I hadn’t thought about what the canal would smell like.
Ring, ring...a bell trills. Clang! Something heavy and mechanical thuds to a close. Squeak, the wheels of a locomotive squeal on the track as a ding, ding, ding signals its approach. This is the language of the canal…all bells and whistles.
A neon arrow sign glows red and green, pointing to the lane we will travel in the semi-darkness of pre-dawn. Other cruise ships line up behind us to wait a turn. Mariner is the leader today.
By the time I meet Alan on deck behind La Veranda, the sun is shining and we are preparing to enter the first of three Gatun locks. Men in
a rowboat attach lines from the locomotive engines, known as mules, to each side of the ship. A gate shuts behind us and water begins to fill the chamber. The mules work in tandem, pulling up an incline on each side of the canal lane. Their job is to keep the ship centered in the lock. Once we are at the proper level, two doors hinge open in front of us and we travel into the second lock.
The Celebrity ship, Galaxy, shares the lane next to us. Her passengers stand on balconies, and line the railing areas. We watch them as they watch us. The huge ship, Coral Princess, the largest cruise ship traveling the canal this morning, brings up the rear in our lane.
Voices echo across canal lanes as commentators on each ship describe the workings of the canal over loudspeakers. Ships are accompanied through the canal by tugboats in front and behind, the grind of their motors adding to the mechanical symphony. Overhead, birds fly from one green jungle-lined side of the canal to the other, their songs loud enough to be heard despite the sounds of man and his machines.
Smoke billows
from behind one of the tugs as it positions us in the third lock. A tall, white lighthouse stands guard over the scene. The breakfast crowd has joined us in La Veranda. I overhear a passenger say, “This is the only way to do the Panama Canal, sitting down eating breakfast.”
Soon, the water lifts the ship to the level of Gatun Lake and we sail out of the third lock. We have risen 85ft. without the assistance of a mechanical pump. This engineering marvel relies upon gravity to fill and empty each lock.
Mariner anchors in the lake in front of Gatun Yacht Club. The series of open-air pavilions covered with metal roofs is a place for passengers to shop, eat and be entertained while waiting for excursions to begin. Today’s choices are: “Birding in Panama,” “Eco Cruise and Rainforest Walk,” “Canal Zone Drive and Locks Tour” and “Eco Cruise on Gatun Lake.”
After settling Kathryn in her cabin for a morning nap, Alan and I take a break from bodyguard duty and ride the tender to the Yacht Club. When we exit the tender and walk up a gangway to the main pavilion, we
join fellow passengers who are sitting in rows of white, plastic chairs watching a series of dance exhibitions.
Men dressed in white shirts, dark pants and straw hats parade beautiful Panamanian girls through a series of sweeping moves. Musicians play accordions giving a Creole flavor to the Latin beat of drums and maracas.
The girls wear full skirts with lace inserts and peasant tops that cling to bronze colored shoulders. Gold combs gleam in dark hair, anchoring white, beaded headpieces behind each ear. Necklaces of gold coins on black cords hang from slender necks.
The elegant dancers exit the stage making room for a group of bare-breasted Indian women. Their long, dark shiny hair swings from side to side as they perform the “monkey” dance to a simple 3-note tune without much melody. They wear yellow and red beaded necklaces and short skirts printed in red, yellow and green designs. The men are clothed in red or yellow material that resembles diapers. Both men and women have body painting from a dark dye that also provides protection against mosquitoes.
The last Indian group hops onstage as men play bamboo instruments that look like bamboo sticks of
various lengths wedged together. The men wear green long sleeve shirts, dark pants and hats with colorful headbands. Women, wearing head kerchiefs, print blouses and short print skirts, shake maracas while they dance barefoot. Some have red, yellow and green yarn in geometric designs wrapped around their legs.
A calypso band begins to play as Alan and I walk to the next pavilion where Indians are selling crafts. Baskets woven so tightly that they can hold water, gleaming woodcarvings and vibrant appliqués on black fabric are displayed on tables for our shopping pleasure.
We continue our walk and find a place to sit. Alan watches ships as they exit the last Gatun lock and proceed into the lake. I prefer to people watch. Observing one of the bare-breasted Indian women, I see her duck behind a craft table. She sticks a hand inside a canvas Mickey Mouse tote bag and pulls out a cell phone. Ah, progress!
A breeze blows through the palm trees that border the lake. The Calypso band plays “My Girl” by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles as the crowd sings along. We’ve found a pleasant way to spend an hour or two.
It’s time to return to bodyguard duty so we take the tender back to the ship and accompany Kathryn to La Veranda for lunch. Our table provides a view of freight ships anchored in the lake waiting to travel through the locks and out into the Atlantic.
In the afternoon, Mariner pulls up anchor and begins her sail through Gatun Lake to reach the locks that will take us to the Pacific Ocean. A storm approaches and the purple cloudy sky is contrasted against the green lake water. We invite Kathryn to our room for a private champagne sail through the lake and watch as a rainbow appears.
The storm continues and tonight’s outside celebration is cancelled. After dinner, we go to the Observation Lounge on Deck 12 to watch the ship negotiate the Pedro Miguel locks.
It’s late and Kathryn asks us to accompany her back to her cabin. We reach the final, Miraflores locks around 11pm. and watch from our balcony. The lane next to us has traffic going in the opposite direction this time. Freighter crews stand on their deck and we wave and watch each other’s progress. The yellow glow from the well-lit
lock area provides good visibility.
Ring, ring….the locomotive mule centers the ship. Creak…the lock doors open in front of us then clang shut again. Her
Panama Canal transit complete, Mariner sails into the Pacific.
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