To cruise through the Panama Canal is to wait. Arriving at each lock we waited for a larger tanker ship to arrive before it was worth operating the lock.

I take an Uber to the meeting point, a kiosk by a large sculpture spelling out the word Panama. The area is packed with people, many waiting to board catamarans for trips out to the nearby islands. A couple chats with the woman at the kiosk. They’re debating whether to take the tour, asking about what’s included, what the options are. Ultimately, they scan a 2d bar code and decide to read about it on the web.

I’ve booked a partial transit of the canal. I had hoped to sail from the Atlantic to the Pacific, but full transit tours are only done once a month and I’ll just miss it; the next is scheduled for the day I’m to fly out to Bogotá. I asked if it would be possible to do the transit and then catch my late evening flight. They told me I shouldn’t chance it in the event the transit takes longer than planned.

The attendant scans my confirmation email and affixes a band to my wrist. She tells me the bus to the boat will leave at 09:40 from the corner. I buy a bottle of water and settle in to wait. The day is already hot and humid and I’m happy to have dressed for the weather.

A couple from Atlanta, Georgia is already waiting in line. He’s an engineer and is excited to see the canal in action. They’re here for a week, staying at a Westin by the beach. This humidity must be nothing to you, I say. This? This is comfortable, they respond.

It’s my first time venturing south of the Casco Viejo and I’m surprised how touristy it is, with rows of restaurants and shops. We pass a Gehry-designed building that houses the Biomuseo, the world’s first bioodiversity museum and a number of statues that dot the roundabouts. One lane of the Carretera Interamericana is closed to traffic and bicyclists, rollerbladers, and walkers take advantage of the weekly Ciclovía. Had I known I would have scheduled my Panama Canal trip a different day and rented a bike to take advantage of the open streets.

At 0940 the driver opens the door to the bus and we board. There aren’t many people in line and I wonder how popular this tour is, how populated the boat will be. We drive north along the river and canal, through the jungle to to Gamboa. where we board the Pacific Queen. As we alight from the bus another wristband is affixed, this one for lunch.

There are already a number of passengers on board and I wonder where they came from. We’re the last bus to arrive and food is loaded on after we board. A DJ has set up in the back on the upper deck and loudspeakers are arranged throughout the boat. The main deck houses an enclosed air-conditioned area with tables and chairs set up for lunch. I find a padded benches outside on the main deck and prepare for the journey. I’d purchased David McCullough’s The Path Between the Seas the day before and prepared to fill time reading about the creation of the Panama Canal.

A guide starts introducing passengers to the canal but the speaker on the main deck has been turned off and it’s difficult to hear him. In the end, I don’t mind. It’s nice not to have to listen to someone talking all the time and when the music starts it’s nice having it in the background rather than blaring at me.

What I thought would be a leisurely cruise through the canal proves to be a party. Music punctuates the proceedings when the guide isn’t speaking.

As we sail down the canal we pass cargo ships tailing tugs in the other direction. We wave to the crew and they gamely wave back. We’ve started near the start of the Culebra Cut, at the highest point we’ll be on our way to the Pacific Ocean.

We reach our first lock and lunch is served. We tie up near the gate and wait. And wait. The food is good and plentiful. My blue wristband is cut from my wrist and I pick up a styrofoam plate. Chicken, pork, rice and peas, carrots, salad, fruit, bread, and two small squares of cake are placed upon it. I take it outside and sit back on the bench to eat, carefully cutting the meat so as not to slice through the plate.

We watch as a cargo ship enters the canal beside us. The crew dance to our music, wave to our ship. Trains help guide the boat forward. They don’t pull the ship; it runs under its own power. The locomotives are there to make sure the ship stays in the middle of the canal.

Once the ship is secure, the water drains from the lock and we watch as it slowly sinks below what we perceive as the surface. Soon, the crew members that once towered over us are practically at eye level; the massive gates open and the ship moves on.

We continue to wait. A Singaporean cargo ship sails by in a neighboring canal, a majestic marker of time. Behind us, another ship approaches. I hear train whistles and head to the stern to watch as it moves into the lock. Once the gates behind it are closed the water starts to drain and we start sinking. The canal walls rise above us and a deckhand slowly plays line out so that we stay close by the canal walls as we lower.

When the water levels equal the locks gates open, revealing the canal before us. A collective cheer raises from the crowd and the music swells as we sail the Miraflores lake towards the two locks that make up the Miraflores lock.

Once again we arrive at the gate and tie up, waiting for the ship behind us to position itself in the lock. It’s faster this time; the ship has been in sight the entire time, and while we are a faster boat in the canal, it makes steady time.

The guide tells us how ships are assessed fees for their journey through the canal. Most are scheduled. Those that are unscheduled are subject to an auction. He tells us that the most that has thus far been paid in the new locks is close to four million USD by a Japanese ship. He tells us that going through the canal saves as much as 25 days sail, a substantial savings in time, emissions, and fuel. Curious about canal fees, I looked online and discovered that the smallest toll was 36 cents, paid by Richard Halliburton in 1928 to swim the Canal.

Passing this lock we head to the final lock on our journey, the second Miraflores lock. The day has become cloudy, offering a respite from the heat of the sun. Lighting flashes on the horizon.

Viewing platforms have been erected on the shore and substantial crowds have collected to watch the cargo ship pass. We arrive and wait once again for the ship behind us to position itself before we, too, are lowered to the level of the Pacific Ocean and allowed to pass. The guide tells us we’ll be dropping over 20 feet.

As we exit the Canal we’re held in place to allow the Singaporean ship to pass before us. It’s gone through the new Cocoli locks to our right and makes its way slowly before us. Once it’s past we slip behind it and follow it towards the ocean.

We’re through the last lock and headed towards the open ocean. The city lays before us and beside us and we sail slowly back towards where we began.

A tug appears and pulls up alongside us. It’s here to collect our pilot, who dons a life vest and prepares himself for his transfer. A man on the tug secures himself to a railing and offers his hand, helping the pilot aboard.

It’s late in the afternoon, an hour past when we were scheduled to be back on shore. Music plays as the sun sets and we sail towards the end of the causeway to make our way around the the islands and to dock.

The skyscrapers of the new city are beautifully lit on the horizon under heavy cloud. By the time we tie up it is night.

We moor near an amusement park. An adjacent park boasts a playground filled with families enjoying their Sunday night. The Avenida Amador is packed with cars in both directions, heading both to and from the attractions on the islands.

I call an Uber and wait for it to make it to me. It’s forced to drive to the end of the road and circle back as the circles have been closed by police to allow traffic to flow only in either direction.

By the time I’m home it’s been almost 12 hours since I left. 🇵🇦