Zane in New Zealand quickly caught my iPad mistake. Not needing cellular for my iPad Pro, I ordered the WiFi only model. It does not have GPS. For another hundred dollars, the WiFi and Cellular model does have GPS. Making a false assumption was a costly mistake.
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The young Customs official finally today was able to stamp my passport. He is a nice enough young man, but this was the fifth or sixth time I’ve gone to his tiny office in the past few days and it is only a meaningless stamp.
One attraction of trucking GANNET across the isthmus is that I would not have to deal with the Canal officials. Perhaps my experience is not typical, but the bureaucracy here seems more rigid than on my previous visits.
I hope to get more information about the crossing later this afternoon.
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This morning I stowed my washed clothes and organized the cabin. Put the second Sportaseat on deck to dry, along with a few other cushions. Carried my foul weather gear for a fresh water rinse in a shower and hung it on the boom to dry. Telephoned the two Raymarine dealers and was told they have no ST1000+ tiller pilots.
The marina is surprisingly busy.
I give the staff here high marks. They are friendly and helpful.
As you can see from the above Yellowbrick tracking page screen shot, Shelter Bay is quite isolated, which is in most ways good.
Almost everyone lives on the other side of the canal. It is less than three miles in a straight line across the bay, but on potholed roads and a ferry crossing often an hour’s drive, part past shells of buildings that once housed US canal employees, part though jungle. But the real jungle is Colon, long one of the most dangerous places in the world and only getting worse. You do not walk in Colon even in broad daylight. You taxi, as I did yesterday. The crumbling town looked as I remembered with ten years added dilapidation. To be born in Colon would be tragic.
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Several of you have expressed sympathy that the passage was hard. While I appreciate the thought, I am quite possibly the person least deserving of sympathy on the planet. I do what I do because I want to. No other reason. No phony claim I am raising money for charity, doing science, or trying to save the world. And I better than anyone else know what I am getting into.
I try to write about my experiences truly. To as the late and unlamented Howard Cossel used to say, ‘Tell it like it is.’
So the passage was hard. I do hard. That is part of my job description. I even take pride in being able to do hard, though I would be glad if it were easy. I would be glad if that Sunday gale out of Hilton Head were my last gale; but it probably won’t be. Roger wrote that he checked Windy then and saw highest wind of 43 knots. I thought it was in the 40ties.
I wish sailing could be a controlled experiment and that I could simultaneously sail identical passages at different ages and learn if what I consider a hard passsage at 77 would have been a hard passage when I was 37 or 47. I'll never know. The ocean does not give senior discounts, and I would refuse one if offered. So I'lll keep on keeping on. That, too, is part of my job description.
I wish sailing could be a controlled experiment and that I could simultaneously sail identical passages at different ages and learn if what I consider a hard passsage at 77 would have been a hard passage when I was 37 or 47. I'll never know. The ocean does not give senior discounts, and I would refuse one if offered. So I'lll keep on keeping on. That, too, is part of my job description.
GANNET’s interior is dry and pretty well organized. My wounds are healing. Several times during the passage waves came from no where and suddenly slammed into GANNET, tossing me about even when wedged in. I have multiple scabs on both forearms and one thigh. You will no doubt be pleased to learn that my sore ass isn’t any longer.
Part 2 of the puzzle remains before us,
