Every day we realized new items we might need for the next six months and added them to our list. We usually shopped in Colon, but for some things, we had to go to Panama City. For some reason, my darker complexion, a remnant from my time in Africa, helped me blend in somewhat as a local.


Once, in Colon, while buying oil filters for the engine (we needed at least two sets for servicing, as parts would be hard to find in the Pacific), we entered a shop and had to fill out forms as part of the purchase process. The saleswoman spoke only Spanish, which was expected. We tried explaining we didn’t understand Spanish, but it became clear that without the forms, there were no parts. I took the form and tried to explain to Damjan what to write where. When the saleswoman saw me explaining to him, she became upset, thinking I was refusing to speak Spanish with her. In frustration, she said, “You know, you know… bad, bad…” I tried again to explain I only knew a few words of Spanish, but she remained offended.

Another time, I decided to visit the San Lorenzo Fort (Castillo de San Lorenzo Real de Chagres), about 10km from Shelter Bay Marina. I got a flat tire on my bicycle. I managed to buy a spare tire and patches but needed a pump. In a shop, I tried to explain what I needed using gestures and pantomime, demonstrating the pumping action. The girl exclaimed “BOMBA!” which immediately brought to mind Wile E. Coyote cartoons and his dynamite plunger. I frantically shouted, “No, no, no BOMBA!” Looking disappointed, she said, “No BOMBA…” I continued gesturing and saying “air pump… pump…” She repeated “BOMBA!” I gave in and said, “BOMBA, whatever,” and she finally brought me a pump. I paid a bit extra for the trouble and left, happy to have the pump.



While waiting for our canal transit, we visited the Miraflores Locks near Panama City. There was a museum and control building where we could watch the entire process of ships entering the locks, the water being raised or lowered, and the ships exiting into the Pacific. We spent some time observing the process, knowing we would be going through the locks in less than 10 days. A sailboat we recognized from the anchorage was also transiting.


Unlike Colon, Panama City from a distance resembled an American city, but closer inspection revealed a Caribbean feel among the buildings. The old part of Panama City, Panama Viejo, felt like a different world. It consisted of low, colorful colonial-style buildings, all well-maintained, a stark contrast to the generally more relaxed Caribbean atmosphere (except for Willemstad on Aruba). This area was once plagued by gangs but is now a pleasant tourist destination.

Downtown Panama City was full of glass skyscrapers, huge shopping malls, and heavy traffic. It felt like the Caribbean on steroids—a place where huge amounts of money had been injected into infrastructure, resulting in modern buildings, but some basic infrastructure remained underdeveloped. Like India and parts of Asia, electrical wiring was often exposed and tangled overhead. Driving through the city was chaotic. We visited a shopping mall, which was much larger than anything in Serbia. It had everything a typical person could need, but not much for our specific need for engine parts. We did indulge in some junk food.

We noticed many boats buying large quantities of rum, by the carton. It seemed like an excessive amount, even for onboard consumption. For example, a crew of six might have 20 cartons, which is over 100 liters, or perhaps over 200 kg of rum alone. Considering weight is a significant factor on a boat, this seemed odd. We bought a few bottles ourselves, as the price was very good (just a few dollars per bottle).
Our transit was confirmed. We were to leave the marina early in the morning around 4 am and head to the locks. A pilot would meet us and a canal inspector would come onboard. A requirement for canal transit is to have at least one person at each corner of the boat to manage the mooring lines in the locks. We hired three line handlers; I would be the fourth, and Damjan would steer. The inspector would oversee the whole process.

Everything was ready. I just needed to figure out how to provide continuous power for the GoPro I planned to mount on the mast to capture the transit. We had less than 48 hours until our passage.