Waking before the alarm and most of the ship, we watched the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. You read that correctly. Panama is one of a few places in the world where the sun RISES over the Pacific and sets over the Atlantic. The sky shifted from ink to blush to gold, and for a few quiet minutes, it felt as though we were the only souls awake on the water.
That illusion lasted right up until we saw the lineup of thirty-six ships, all politely waiting in a nautical pattern similar to a very well-behaved traffic jam. Apparently, nothing says good morning quite like maritime gridlock.
Gathering in the bay before the sun had fully committed to the day with engines humming, everyone inched forward with the patience of saints. This was a slow, deliberate procession toward the locks, a crawl so measured it felt like we could knit a sweater between movements. Somewhere along the way, we discovered we’d done something rare and magical in travel: we had booked correctly. Not only were we on a ship built to travel through the historic locks, but also on the correct side of the ship. Happy accidents!!!
Too excited to sleep, we climbed to Deck 18 right after sunrise over the Pacific. I’m not sure what time the other passengers assembled, but it was before us. The stairs leading to Deck 18 kept many from enjoying the best views. Every vantage point along the railing was taken, with many people bringing chairs. Everyone quietly anticipated the big show of the day. The Panama Canal.
As if all the excitement wasn’t enough, a tour guide narrated the entire day, calmly explaining every gate, cable, tug, and inch gained.
Days earlier, Room Service had contacted us to ask about breakfast preferences. At that time, it seemed crazy that the woman on the other end of the phone was asking endless questions about our preferences, down to the type of berries we’d like. Really, two omelets with sides of bacon would’ve been great. Yes, we had ordered a multi-course private breakfast, served directly to our own port-side balcony. However, we weren’t prepared when, promptly at 8 am, the waiter arrived with champagne on ice, along with at least eight courses of steamy, hot food.
There is something magical about privately sipping coffee while watching one of the world’s greatest engineering feats pass you by. Plates arrived, courses followed, and food disappeared. All while gliding forward at a pace best described as geological. Built by Americans and opened in 1913, it was later handed over for $1 by a president whose generosity exceeded his negotiating skills. These historical facts landed softly while we floated between concrete walls with only twenty-four inches to spare on either side, trusting completely in people with clipboards and teams of little trains called mules, that ran on a cogged track.
The day unfolded through three sets of locks and two lakes, each transition slow and mesmerizing. Time blurred while water levels rose and fell. We became experts in waiting. And then, just when it seemed the day could offer nothing new, we spotted movement along the shore. Frolicking animals that weren’t deer, cows, horses, goats or sheep.
It turned out to be a herd of capybaras lounging, waddling, frolicking, and living entirely unbothered lives while global commerce cruised by. They were the perfect reminder that while humans are very proud of their canals, nature remains unimpressed.
By the time the final lock released us and the ship turned toward Cartagena, the sun was setting. As the horizon shifted and open water returned, a new set of questions arose. Heading towards Columbia, would we make it through without pirates? Random bombs? Mild intrigue at minimum?
More tomorrow. Stay tuned.