At 4:30 AM, our line handlers were already waiting for us at the dock. These three men were there to help us through the canal and meet the requirements. We set off in the dark, carefully navigating out of the marina towards the locks. On the way, as arranged, the pilot contacted us, and a supervisor came aboard to oversee the entire transit and coordinate with the control center. Entry and exit times for the locks are strictly defined; any delays would mean losing our slot and restarting the entire procedure.

I hadn’t set up the GoPro the previous night, knowing the battery wouldn’t last. Now, I didn’t have time to climb the mast and install the equipment. The project was unfortunately scrapped, though if I had managed to secure a continuous power supply, it might have worked. A pity. We reached the lock entrance and were instructed to stop and wait our turn. We waited until dawn, and around 6 AM, we proceeded toward the lock.



We entered the first lock, the Gatun Locks, named after the lake we would be crossing. Men on shore threw us mooring lines with monkey fists, which we used to pull aboard the large ropes we secured to the boat’s cleats. On the supervisor’s command, we had to tighten and slacken the ropes evenly. In front of us in the lock was a small cargo ship and two tugs. The lock gates closed, and water began to fill the chamber. We started to rise. We had to tighten the ropes quickly and firmly. The force of the water surging into the lock pushed the boat from side to side, and we could easily have been smashed against the lock walls. Although the engines were running, we didn’t have much room to maneuver. We had to coordinate our rope handling to keep the boat centered; any mistake would cause the boat to list to one side, making it difficult to correct. We rose to the top, the water level stabilized, and we waited for the lock gates to open and for the cargo ship and tugs to exit, followed by us.




We had successfully completed the first of three stages. We slowly moved forward into the second lock and repeated the procedure. We steadily rose through the second and then the third lock. The larger vessels ahead of us were not using their engines; they were attached to cables and pulled through the locks by electric locomotives. We entered the third lock and, now experienced, repeated the process again.

Each lock transit took about half an hour, and in less than two hours, the gates leading into Gatun Lake began to open. When the tugs accelerated, they created quite a surge, almost pushing us back. We accelerated as well and followed them into the lake.

We were now in Gatun Lake, the heart of the canal. Without it, the canal wouldn’t be possible. The lake is freshwater and supposedly home to crocodiles. It is artificial, created specifically for the canal by damming the Chagres River between 1907 and 1912, during the canal’s construction. Many people died building the canal, which stands as an incredible feat of modern engineering, especially considering that the water entering and exiting the locks uses no pumps, relying solely on gravity. The canal is about 51 miles long, and we had risen 26 meters through the three Gatun Locks.

The supervisor told us to go full throttle. Sailboats usually anchor in the lake overnight, but we were doing the entire transit in one day. He said we had to be fast to keep our slot. We had about 30 miles to cover. We navigated, ate, drank, and shared stories about this extraordinary experience. The line handlers seemed accustomed to it, while the supervisor shared anecdotes from other transits.
We encountered some cargo ships and other vessels passing us. We continued at full speed, with about two hours of travel remaining. In the distance, we could see the Centennial Bridge, a large suspension bridge spanning the canal. There are two bridges over the Panama Canal. The first, the Bridge of the Americas (Puente de las Américas), built in the 1960s, is on the Panama City side, and we had crossed it by car a few days earlier. The Centennial Bridge (Puente Centenario), built just over 10 years ago, was now visible in the distance. This morning, at the Atlantic entrance to the canal, we had passed under a bridge under construction near Colon, the Atlantic Bridge (Puente Atlántico), which was expected to open in two or three years. As we passed under the Centennial Bridge, two ships overtook us. We wondered if there really was a queue, but the supervisor assured us everything was in order.

We approached the first lock on the Pacific side, our fourth lock, which would lower us. This lock, Pedro Miguel, is named after a nearby village and is slightly separated from the other two Miraflores Locks. The Gatun Locks on the Atlantic side were connected. The supervisor told us we would be tied up with another sailboat and a motor yacht for a simultaneous transit. We would be on the left side and motor yacht will be in the middle. This would be even more interesting than we had imagined.
To our right was a Chilean man, a great guy we knew from the marina. He had left the marina the day before, and we assumed he had already transited. On our other side was another sailboat from the marina, but we hadn’t met the crew.



We were now first in line. Behind us was a huge cargo ship, perhaps even a Panamax; from our perspective, it was enormous, barely fitting into the lock. Its bow was very close to our boat; if its anchor had slipped, we would have been crushed. We felt completely helpless in front of this behemoth. The procedure here was similar but reversed: water was drained, and we descended. This time, we didn’t do much; the line handlers on the other boats managed the ropes. All three supervisors were in constant contact to synchronize the engines and movements, as there were now three of us tied together. We had to act as one. Additional ropes were used to ensure everything went smoothly. Once everything was secure, the water began to drain, and we began our descent.


We successfully passed through Pedro Miguel. Now, a new challenge lay ahead: navigating about 1.5 nautical miles to the Miraflores Locks while tied together. This was a serious challenge, as the other two boats used their engines while we relied on them. We reached the Miraflores Locks relatively quickly. We entered the first lock and prepared for the water to be drained. We waited for the signal, while the cargo ship behind us also secured its position. This lock consisted of two connected chambers, after which we would be in the Pacific.

At one point, the Chilean man came out on deck, jumping and waving a Chilean flag. We were confused. After the episode, we asked him what he was doing. He said there was a live internet feed, and everyone in Chile was watching him. We hadn’t even thought to tell anyone or bring a flag. We’ll know for next time.



The water began to drain, and we began our descent, loosening and tightening the ropes to keep everyone centered. This process was completed, and we were now about 8 meters lower, with another 8 meters to go to reach the ocean. The second lock also emptied. To our left was the control building, and the terraces were full of people. A few days earlier, we had been on those terraces; now, we were down in the locks. It was interesting to see everything from this perspective; we had been level with them, and now we were in a “hole” about 16 meters below. The lock gates slowly opened, and we prepared to move. We untied, said our goodbyes, and slowly, one by one, exited the lock and continued through the canal toward the ocean.




We were now in the Pacific Ocean. A new chapter of our journey was beginning—a new ocean, new stories. We passed under the Bridge of the Americas (Puente de las Américas) and headed toward the marina where we would rest and wait for the agent to return our passports, which we had given him for processing before officially leaving Panama. Some final details remained to be completed before our departure.



