Today we rumbled through the Panama Canal. Four locks and 52,000 gallons of fresh water slipped us from the west coast back to the east side. We are actually in the same time zone as the East Coast of the U.S. As we follow the coastline up to Alta Mira, Mexico, we'll stumble back a time zone. Ah, but Mexico is sliding an hour closer to us with Daylight Savings Time, so no more clock changes.

Here's the second set of locks (Pedro Miguel) on the west coast of the Panama Canal, built in 1913 by the same gentleman who engineered the Suez Canal, but he didn't survive this project.

I'm only one port and six days from home, as kids still say today, "cool." Let's roll back to the time that the Leon tossed in the harbor before leaving the Hitachi port and the Captain joked about the ship being loaded and rolling in calm seas. Shortly thereafter, the pilot stepped off the side of the ship onto his high-powered pilot vessel and we pulled passed the jetty into the broad Pacific for our return voyage. I had experienced the mighty Atlantic and now the Pacific lay before us as the unflinching red carpet to our gold coast.

So much of my life has depended on that coast, and still does. It represents all the pleasures a kid has at the beach and the evil powers of nature with winter storms. It characterizes the nature of real estate values and where I can or cannot live. It's had romantic influences as I brought girls to seaside villages. Now it represents the home of two book projects. This crossing was also a test to compare the various oceans as we returned through the Panama Canal into the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico.

The vast wake of the Leon leaves a path of churned water in its wake for miles as it slipped deeper into the Pacific.

The Captain showed me the various routes ships take across the Pacific and pointed out that the shortest route across the Earth at this point was way north into the winter zone from Japan to the Panama Canal for 7,680 miles by grid circle. He showed me on a map that indicated the percentage of bad weather, wind direction, and strength. This route was requested by the home office, but it was his final decision and he chose a route that took us less into harms way of the notoriously rough road through the winter zone and closer to the Hawaiian course of 8,200 miles through the summer zone of less winds and a milder sea. As we pulled out of the harbor, we tasted the strength of the Pacific off the coast of Japan, one of the most susceptible areas to typhoons year round. It was a nasty indication of the 17-day crossing at 16.5 knots as the ship, weighing almost 30,000 tons, began to carve its way-- straining, flexing, and vibrating into the Pacific. It was one of the roughest areas we had encountered, and it tossed furniture and equipment asunder.

At one point I asked the Captain if he found the Pacific rougher than the Atlantic and he looked at me like a father looks at a child who asks an exceedingly ignorant question, but he explained. He pulled a number of chart packs from a broad wooden drawer that covered different sections of the globe. Each chart covered a specific month. He pointed out the climate, wind, and current changes for each month of the year. The ever changing condition of all seas, quays, oceans, and Bahias has little to do with the sea itself but with the climate that stirs the oceans from an untouched bowl of Jell-O to a turbulent, all-powerful frothy mass of boiling gales and typhoons.

So we were faced with purportedly 17 days of strong seas that turned into 19 days predominately on the edge of the northern Pacific winter zone. Throughout this report, since there are no blessed ports to escape the swells from, I will touch on various aspects of the voyage and the ship that will warn and inform possible ship travelers of the pitfalls of cargo ship vacations. For example, you can't be a light sleeper and attempt to snooze on a vibrating mix-master. The constant trembling backs out screws from the paneling and throws them to the deck. It causes wall panels to shake madly in the night and the television that never worked to rattle and strain against its bindings until it breaks free and nearly collides with the deck. You must be constantly aware of your surroundings. By 2000 on the 15th, the rising swells were strong enough to turn over everything in my cabin and roll me out of the sack.

About the time we pulled away from Hitachi, I got an e-mail from Bob Bitchin, the publisher of the sailing magazine Latitudes and Attitudes. He was pulling out of Redondo Beach on his 65-foot ketch headed toward Hawaii. I informed the Captain that we must pour the coals to the old gal and get 'er up to ramming speed. For the next few days, we tried to make contact to see if we would cross paths.

The following are excerpts from my daily notes on the crossing:
3/20: We are into our second Wednesday on the dateline and back on the same day with the coast. Suddenly, the time on the coast was ahead of the ship's clock. We've been at sea for five days and not even close to passing the Hawaiian Islands 500 miles south of us.

An exterior bridge deck compass and another Pacific sunset.

I'm reading a book by Sir Francis Chichester about his single-handed sail around the world in the '60s. Unbelievable, yet I experience some of the feelings he had. Although he spent some 100 days by himself on a 54-foot yacht just to get from Plymouth, England, to Sydney, Australia. It's been mildly rough since we left Japan and today it's raining. I wish we could get past the Hawaiian Islands to 160 degrees latitude and turn this 600-foot monster south, hopefully into a warmer sun-filled climate. I must admit that my contact with home via the Iridium phone has helped a great deal. I can send chapters of my books, articles to magazines, and e-mails to anyone on earth. Since I got all the antenna problems worked out, I'm rarely cut off and e-mails are launched quickly. I spent a lot of money on disconnected calls learning the ropes though.

The only trouble I have now is with water creeping in the porthole where the antenna line runs. I can't properly run the cable since it's not a permanent fixture on the boat. I have to watch if sea spray or rain squalls build too much water up in the gully below the window, and I must get to it quick and clean it out with fresh towels.

Chichester speaks a lot of loneliness and depression. I've experienced some of the same, although much of the loneliness is only for home and my girl. I have felt deep depression for my fifth wife, Rebecca, and much reflection on my outlaw past. Although, I have never been a violent man, except on rare occasions, I have been a constant outlaw most of my life and most of my undoing has been with women. I love the romantic side yet hated to lose my freedom, and usually fought to restore it ultimately to the chagrin of my last romance. I tried to rationalize that women wanted to control me, so I moved on, trying to find one who would understand a man's needs and not try to pen him in. In a sense, that concept may be correct, but breaking hearts is unforgivable.

I can only hope that since I just turned 54 that my wayward days are behind me and that I will never break a heart again. The woman who is at the helm of Bikernet has shown me understanding, has stood beside me, knows what sexual buttons to push to keep me dancing on air, and has more tattoos than I have. She can't be all that bad.

I learned a little Filipino language today. I've been working with the main steward and the second and third officers who are Filipino. I started with simple lines like good morning, "Magandang Umaga" and how are you, "Kumusta." I'm trying them out on the crew, to helpful, jovial response.

3/22: Trying to reach the Lost Soul, Bob's sailboat. He pulled out of Los Angeles on the 16th, ran into a gale, and was forced south into Mexico where he hid behind a rock until the seas calmed. We tried to establish frequencies that we could talk on but couldn't hook up. Still trying to get a bearing on him. We figured that on the 24th or 25th, we would be crossing wakes. This is a note I e-mailed to his girl at the office:

Charky: "If you have contact with Bob, tell him I should be home before the 10th. Ask him for his heading, position, and speed. We will cross paths somewhere out there. We are currently about 166 by 33 degrees, heading 090 bearing and doing around 17 Knots. When we reach 160 latitude, we will veer Southeast slightly as we near the coast. We will come within 480 miles of Los Angeles as we turn south, but we'll pass within 60 miles of Cabo San Lucas. Ask him what radio channel to call on. Thanks."

Layla, at the office, has brothers who work in the harbor. She's inquiring as to tugs that could hook up with the ship off the coast of Los Angeles and kidnap me. Unfortunately, 480 miles is too far for a tug. Cabo is a possibility if we can make contact.

We're in the midst of our longest run without a port. Seventeen days to Panama (before we were aware that the 17 would become 19), so there won't be any reports from harbors.

I want to touch on a couple of items about the ship. My mother hasn't had hot water on a regular basis since we arrived and for the last two days no hot water at all. Since I forbid her to even wash her hands in my cabin, she has nearly frozen trying to maintain her beauty while dancing in the freezing shower stall in rough seas. Actually, I worked with the Chief Engineer, the Captain, and ultimately a crewman to resolve her shower dilemma.

I still piss and moan because there is no overall thermostat except in the engine room, which is always warm. The only control I have over heat or cool is to take the vent cover off with my small tool set. I remove its 1" inch stanchions and bolt it directly to the vent to cut off any air-conditioning circulating in my day room when it's already in the low 60s. The bedroom suffers a similar malady but the air never blows hard out of that vent.

Both mom and I have had eye problems the last couple of days. I'm not sure if it's the rust in the air or what. Oh, I should mention that these vents have adjusters on them, but neither of them work. That's the case on a regular basis around the ship. One of the women went on a sister Rickmers ship, the Tainjin, in China and pointed out that their accommodations were much nicer, but a report on the Tainjin cook didn't fare as well. And a week later the Captain received a telex demanding our weekly menu. Our chef is Filipino and his menu is generally Oriental in nature.

Here's the information center for this trip, or my floating desk with surge protector, computer, in-house phone, radio, tape/CD player, and speaker in my face, which I disconnected.

One passenger felt that Rickmers should make financial adjustments to the price for various ships if the accommodations vary substantially. Seemed reasonable. We all have televisions that don't work and VCRs, but no movies to watch. Radios don't work, but I don't care. We got some movies in Egypt that were held up by customs, but once they arrived I discovered that they had copped most of the pornos, and the rest were Blockbuster throwaways.

Between the book by Chichester and the Captain, I discovered while trying to understand the rudiments of sextant use, that our Captain and crew use the GPS system in conjunction with the sightings. That does not make a lick of sense to me. You would only use a sextant if your GPS and radar were down. What the hell?

Here's the third officer Jesse taking a sightings. It's imperative that the sun is in full view and that the watery horizon is also clear or daytime sightings are difficult.

Basically, you must know the position of the sun on that date and time. You get a measurement from the sun's position against the horizon through the sextant mirrors, then through calculations get a line of position of the ship. If you take several sightings and with speed, time, and direction calculations, these lines will cross, leaving you with a round notion of your position--terrifying.

3/23: I've got pink eye that has come at me twice and is now in both eyes. I awoke in the morning blind with a sticky mud in my eyes. Eye drops helped. Can't decide if it's due to eyestrain or the air in my cabin.

Regarding the sextant, many just used it to find latitudes. Stars are also good for night sightings, especially planets, but you must be able to see the horizon. You must also have your speed and the position of the star. The Captain mentioned that some sextants have fake horizons, or under bad conditions some navigators use a bucket of oil on the deck as the horizon. If using the stars, you must plan and know their location in the sky from astrological charts. Then you can have the sextant set when you go on deck so you catch the correct star or planet. If you site five or six and make a mistake on one or two, you still have four showing you accurate positions.

Now, I need to see this happening, if he has the time. I've also got the go ahead to hang in the engine room during port maneuvering at some point. I would like to see the effort and manipulation that occurs deep in the rumbling power plant room.

This depicts just a portion of the 15,000 horsepower supercharged diesel.

It's Saturday as we begin the Easter holiday and we have a party planned today to celebrate. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. I'm getting anxious to return to the States. We may have an alarm today. We usually do on Saturdays. The stop in Mexico has not been confirmed, although the first mate says it's so. Rumor has it that we have a few crates bound for Alta Mira, Mexico, but there is pressure to get to Houston quick for a deadline. I've got a deadline for these mutherfuckers.

Here's a member of the Filipino crew working with the Romanian sandblaster, who is taking the ship apart with a material that looks like small particles of coal. It's light and cheap as sand blasting material. The crew is a good, solid, fun-loving team of men that works hard on a very rundown ship. If we had twice the men and equipment, the ship would be in good shape in a couple of months.

3/23: Tomorrow is the distinctive four-month anniversary or about 120 days, which means we have 12-15 days left. Suddenly everything is slowing down. I'm a nail-biting short-timer. For a while, days whizzed past; now they're slowing, although I still have goals to reach before the end. The report from the Captain at this point is that he will head for Alta Mira, Mexico, the minute we reach the Caribbean from the Panama Canal, if he doesn't hear differently from Rickmers or Technomar, the partnership owners.

Sir Francis, single-handed over 29,630 miles in 226 days, and he wrote 200,000 words with an average speed of 130 miles a day. It is 26,670 miles around the Earth at the equator or 21,598 sea miles. Word has it that we will cover about 30,000 total miles. Since this is a roller from day to day and still on the cool side as we scoot along the edge of the winter zone, I will describe my daily routine and my cabin. I work out every other day: 150 abs, 60 lower back, two muscle groups with sprung weights and lots of reps, Tae Kwon Do katas (4), bamboo stick moves from Sifu (my Master) (8) then cardio with stairs for 20 minutes. If it's hot, I move the stair routine outside.

This is my temporary gym equipment for the cruise. I use the spring set for my weight training. Lots of reps and the springs are quickly wearing out after constant use. I have a mat behind the chair for doing sit-ups, stretching, and lower back. I slide the coffee table out of the way for Martial Arts training. The wood sticking out behind the chair is used to shore up the door from slamming into my face while pulling on the straps.

There are three meals a day. The menu is on the greasy, heavy, fat side of living or dying, depending on how important diet is to you. Eggs and sausage or fried steak daily would kill me quick, so I switched to cereals, fresh fruit, and yogurt. Lunch is the big meal daily and dinner is usually just as heavy but not as formal. Sometimes there will be fried chicken, French fries and pizza all at the table at the same time. That occurs about three days a week. We always have salad of lettuce or cabbage, tomatoes, and cucumber unless provisions run low.

It's funny and disconcerting as we watch the supplies dwindle and tomatoes disappear, then cucumber, and finally lettuce is replaced with cabbage and carrots. Lastly, the carrots are gone.

I've tried to drop the carbs as much as possible. I noticed that when I'm fighting the cold, I eat more carbs instinctively. Often, to avoid mashed potatoes or French fries, I grab some meat, chop it up, and make a chicken or steak salad.

Between meals I head up to the bridge and check in, then return back to my cabin to delve into book chapters or writing assignments. When I can't focus anymore, I read. The writing has kept me driven.

This was my living room for four and a half months. The desk is to the right, not shown. The plant, which I bought in Genoa, Italy, is Velcroed to the coffee table. I picked up the calendar of '30s cruise liner posters in Hamburg for some color.

On this crossing I set a couple more goals. I wanted to spend sometime in the engine room and crawl into a hold where the cargo is lashed down to get a sense of how it feels down in the very depths of the ship while we're moving along. I also wanted to learn the basics of how a sextant works. Believe it or not, between two articles a week for Bikernet, two articles an issue for Horse, an article for American Rider, a piece for Cruising Writer, and two books, I'm a busy mofo. Add to that 40 e-mails every other day, and trying to put some thought into Nuttboy's project bike and raise the coin to get it off the dime--I'm busy.

This is the small entry into my living space. The indoor/outdoor carpeting is covered in plastic so I can enter and remove my shoes. The grime on the exterior decks is notorious. The restroom is directly across the way.

The restroom has been a freezing experience and a constantly noisy reminder of ship travel. It has a sucking vent inside that roars constantly. Even with the door shut, you can hear it. There is a small heater in the head mounted to the bulkhead next to the vent. It can only heat the interior of the vent housing, because the vent immediately sucks its warmth through the ceiling and away. With lukewarm water in the freezing bath, winter showers were uncomfortable to say the least.

As you have read, I'm not sitting on my ass twiddling my thumbs daily. The rough draft of one book is finished, with 156,000 words and I'm 27 chapters into my first Chance Hogan series book, although I'm stumbling a bit with it.

3/26: I'm trying to scoot through this month as quickly as possible. I have this sensation that once I hit the first of April, the trip will be downhill from that day forward. We'll see.

Vibration is a constant issue on the ship. I spent some time in the engine room and it didn't seem to be too bad. But on E-deck, it's excessive. All open doors must have paper pads behind them to keep the stops from boring holes in the walls. I have old rags under the television to keep it quiet and from coming apart at the seams. The noise can be as distracting as a screaming child.

Here's the chief engineer in the foreground and the electrician officer in the back. They are sitting in the counsel of the ship in the engine room. This is where the heart of the ship is monitored and the generators are watched through a myriad gauges.

3/27: The Captain and I crawled into two of the holds to the bottom of the ship. When we opened the small 2-by-2-foot hatch, the roar of the exhaust vent was deafening, like pressurized steam bursting from the bowels of the Earth. The wind jetting up through the narrow hatch made it difficult to look into the hold without catching crap in your eyes. We crawled down long, narrow ladders.

It was reasonably quiet in the holds aside from the squeaking cargo and the myriad lashing chains gripping the cargo to the decks, like spider webs on old furniture. There are lights along the surrounding bulkheads, which are primarily blocked by the crates on perimeters of the holds. We were in a hold full of power plant generator housings that formed long, steel caves. It was dark, but with a flashlight we could see the lashings to duck and step over.

At one point, we came to the hull of the ship and I held my hand against it. I could feel the rush of the sea passing. The temperature of the hold was generally a balance of the temperature of the sea and the sky above it. We crept down another ladder until we were standing on the bottom layer of the hold. Beneath us were ballast and fuel tanks.

The Captain told me a stowaway story of a Nigerian driver of a General who was escaping political upheaval. They were 10 days off the coast of Africa when a crew member told the chief officer of a noise in a hold that sounded like someone calling for help. It was disregarded as a rat. The crewman persisted and twice more it was ignored until the Captain found out and sent a group to investigate. The man had stowed some food and was all right, but they gave him a cabin.

When they arrived in Las Palmas, the authorities made arrangements to have the man flown back to Nigeria where he would have been immediately killed. The Captain refused and kept the man aboard until they reached the next port in Antwerp, Belgium, where he argued with the authorities until he was guaranteed that the man would receive asylum. "I will not sign a man's death warrant," the Captain said.

Another friendly crewman. Keep in mind that currently there are only 25 men running this ship. It is grossly understaffed, but they smile behind union contracts and work tirelessly.

That afternoon was particularly clear and we were beginning to turn south into a warmer climate. I went to the bridge with my camera. I suspected an amazing sunset. The Captain watched its glory enlighten all of mankind and the magnificent beauty of nature once more and I took some shots. As I turned away I looked at the Captain as his eyes brightened and he said, "Green, green, green."

I'm slow, but finally understood what he said and spun to see a green flash. The green flash is a rare momentary flash of sunlight, a blue/green ray occasionally witnessed as the last bit of the solar disk sinks below the far horizon in a very clear atmosphere. Or it may appear as the first portion of the disk rises in the east. It is not a common phenomenon, since atmospheric conditions must be favorable, and the sun must not be too red. Besides, the observer must be watching carefully, as the duration is only one or two seconds.

The Rickmers flag on the stack on the day of the sunset where I saw the green flash. The sky must be completely clear to be able to encounter this phenomenon. I have run to the bridge with my camera several times since, trying to capture another one.

The colored ray is caused by atmospheric refraction. As the last of the sun sinks over the horizon, the red components of the white light disappear first, the other colors following in order, with the blue the last. Moreover, the effect is noticed only when but a minute part of the disk is in sight, since otherwise there is as blending of colors. For me, this was perhaps a once in a lifetime illusion.

The Captain and the third mate, Jesse, have been using the sextant for positions and they were coming very close to the GPS position. He explained that the GPS sees the world as elliptic and the sextant sees it as round. He says that you will never get the same position unless by mistake. He also explained that there are still remote islands that were charted using sextants before the GPS system was designed. That's why navigational safeguards are still necessary, because you can't rely solely on charts.

3/29: We discovered that according to the date projected to reach the Panama Canal, the crossing will take 19 days. At first I was concerned that it might be 21 days. I rushed to the bridge deck again at sunset to capture another green flash, but no such luck. Then the Captain started talking about the stars.

I don't know shit, but he showed me where Venus and Jupiter is with Saturn in between. Then he pointed out the brightest star in the sky, which is 10 light years away compared to most that are as far away as 1,200 light years. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the sky came alive with stars. He gave me a computer program for viewing galaxies, which I needed like a whole in the head. It's odd to be on this venture and actually feel that every moment of each day is filled with projects. Add on more and I'm toast.

Two more days left in the month of March. That's key to me, 'cause I should be in Houston before we reach 10 days into April. I think I can handle that.

Had a brief conversation with the Captain tonight under a crystal clear moon in the warm evening. It was so light as the moon slipped into the sky that the silky Pacific looked like dark chrome. He said that as a child, he found a small book in the library about the constellations so he went home and started to study them. He made his first telescope at 13 years of age with help form a local lens manufacturer. As he told me that, I thought about what I was doing about that time. I think I was customizing stolen bicycles and falling in love for the first time.

3/30: We had a barbeque to celebrate the Easter holiday. We're out of cigarettes and whiskey except for the bottle he breaks out for barbeques. While having a drink with the crew, the Captain pointed out that Panama pilots beat Houston pilots all to hell. "Houston is run by cowboys. Panama has pilots who are all linked via laptops and know where each ship is. Very professional."

As it turns out, we discovered disconcerting news that instead of passing through the canal on the 3rd, it will be the 4th, then four days to Alta Mira and less than a day there, then 24 hours to the Houston pilot station and six hours to port.

4/1: April Fool's: Woke up to one of the panels in my cabin rattling like crazy. Antonio didn't have the slightest idea how to fix it without removing the panes. Vibration is the nemesis of this ship, coupled with corrosion. I fixed it with a 4/4 shored against the bed and a pallet plank.

Vibration is a constant problem on the ship and must reek havoc time and again with equipment. Here's my fix for a vibrating panel that was preventing sleep.

Two more days to Panama, then delayed a day before the crossing. At 2300, I watched the moon come up like a sunrise glowing crimson on the water. While it rose and blew out the star-studded night, like blowing out the candles of a cake, one of the crewmen told me about the strange legends from the Philippines.

He told me of a boy who walked in the woods and stepped on something strange in the night. His leg swelled terribly and he went to a doctor who told him that he stepped on a forest dwarf. With just the right potion and blessing, he was healed. It was an eerie night.

We are now off the coast of Costa Rica. By tomorrow we will be on the edge of the Panamanian border. We are now on EST and will come back one time zone once we pass through the canal. It's warm and I finally got some sun today. Damn, I've discovered that I like the heat much better than the cold. When I'm uncomfortably cold, I don't function well. I spend my time trying to keep warm.

The vast Panama Canal Bahia showing countless ships waiting their turns in the locks.

4/3: We arrived in the Panama Canal Bay six miles from the Mira Flores gates at 0500. There's a mist on the water and reports from the bridge that Rickmers was unsuccessful at gaining the ship passage through the canal today. Later the Captain spoke to the agent, who was still trying. If not, we enter that canal at 0700 tomorrow. I sure would like to slip through today.

I'm now reading an incredible book about and by Beryl Markham, "West with the Night," about a woman who grew up on a farm in Africa. Her father cut the farm out of jungle and ultimately had a grist mill and lumber yard. She was a young child until WWI, when she hunted with members of African tribes with a spear, facing death often, strolling past angry lions, and fighting warthogs. One of the natives Arab Maina said to her once, "Courage lives in a man's stomach, but there are times when it is not at home and then the stomach is sour." Her dog Buller fought leopards and warthogs almost to his death many times. Each chapter is an eye-opener. I have read almost 10 books during the voyage and each one was inspiring in one form or another to a struggling writer. For guys, if you want to read something that will pull you from macho page to macho page, based during WWII, get "Corps" by W.E.B. Griffin. What a blast to read.

We had a drill in the afternoon and lowered the motorized life boat to the water. I jumped in. It was designed to be a man overboard drill, but by the time we had the boat in the water and under power, the man in the water would have been shark bait. Besides, in the Bahia swells, I don't believe we had the power to overcome the current. It was an adventure as we bobbed in the wave beneath the ship.

While anchored in Bahia de Panama, I went down to the stern where some of the guys were fishing with lines and little fishing tackle. It was a scene out of a Mark Twain novel. Sergio, who grew up in the Philippines but is part Chinese and is studying to become an officer, wrapped his line around a plastic container like a gallon jug. He could actually cast using the bottle and the line spun off it effortlessly as if he was handling a high-dollar reel and rod set. Didn't see 'em catch anything.

Here's a shot of the locks as we headed back out the east coast into the Caribbean.

That brings us back to the Panama Canal Passage. But before I go there, I want to mention that I finished the first draft of the book I wrote for the Chance Hogan series based on the trip. After performing page counts on some of the books I read during the voyage, this book will be between 475 and 520 pages. I'm mighty proud of it from several perspectives.

OK, so the Panamanian government now runs the canal and I was fortunate enough to have several conversations with one of the pilots. They guide 40 ships through every 24 hours. The locks are open round the clock, but the pilot explained that business has been down for the last 1.5 years due to what he perceives to be a slump in world economy. He mentioned that each ship displaces 52,000 gallons of fresh water that runs into either the Pacific or the Atlantic. Due to the rainfall in this region, that fresh water loss is not a significant. And if the canal didn't exist, the water would run into the ocean anyway. They only have water shortages during the El Nino spells every nine years. During that time, they are occasionally forced to tap their spare reservoir designed specifically for this purpose. Lake Gatun was once a small river, but formed a lake with a dam to supply the canal. The canal is 28 miles from lock to lock. The lake is 21 miles long with 7 miles of narrows.

Of course I had to ask him about the prospects for another canal in a separate country and his response was irrevocably, "Impossible." As he explained the notion that is a political hot potato in several countries like Mexico, Honduras, and Colombia at one election after another, finances and environmental concerns are most likely prohibitive. As an example, he mentioned that on occasion the Panamanian government researches new reservoir locations without much success because of the environmental uproar it causes. In addition he told me, "We expanded seven miles of the narrows just 150 feet a few years ago. It took us over 1 billion dollars and years to accomplish it. Can you imagine what it would cost to build a new canal with lock and such?"

This pilot was very protective of his canal and pointed out that there are discussions to add wider locks in the future. When I point out that business is down, he immediately corrected me by saying, "It will take at least 15 years to build more locks." By then the demand would surely be increased. I plan to find out how much it would cost for the Leon to take the E-ticket ride through the magnificent gravity-operated locks into the beautiful island-filled lake for 28 miles from one ocean to the next, preventing over 11,000 miles and a month of additional passage to reach their destination.

From the way this young, sharp, athletically dressed gentleman described it, there are few places in the world where a canal could be built that could economically function in this capacity. The position in the seas, the narrow land mass, the amount of natural rainfall, and the natural lake make up all the natural ingredients for such a vast endeavor. This is the next to the last report. The last one will contain a brief report on Mexico, which we will reach in two days, and thoughts on what I have learned from this experience. We'll see what happens next.

-KRB

On to Part 19