Friday 24th January

Early start today, the alarm went off at 6:30am and by the time we were showered and up for breakfast we were approaching Aruba. By 09:30 we were ashore to a steel band welcome and the sight of all the officials enthusiastically dancing along to the music.

Our guide for the day, Gwen was a stickler for protocol, we were told to remember our seat numbers as sitting in someone else’s seat often resulted in a black eye. To leave the coach, the right side would disembark first, followed by the left. At the next stop this would be reversed and woe betide anyone who talked when she was.

Aruba is an island of the Lesser Antilles, 16 miles from the coast of Venezuela and measuring a mere 19 miles long by 6 miles wide, a strange amalgam of beautiful pure white beaches azure blue seas and a barren arid desert interior. The reason for this is because the island is solid rock of various types, but much of it old coral as the island was born from the sea thousands of years ago. There are no rivers, rainfall is limited and as a result very little grows here, plant life is restricted to Coconut and other palms, Aloe Vera, cactuses, and Divi-Divi trees. Pronounced the same way as beaver-beaver but with a d.

Ah! I hear you all exclaim, Divi-Divi trees? Yes, a Divi-Divi tree grows straight up until it reaches the branches, all of which point South West at a sharp right angle (useful if you get lost on an island measuring 19×6 miles) but such is the case with the Divi-Divi tree. Also a Divi-Divi tree’s seeds are extremely valuable in the tanning process of leather. However the island has only two cows, both of which are kept in a zoo, which means that many of these seeds go to waste.

If you don’t believe that then read no further, because the cactus that grows on Aruba is even stranger. The tall cowboy cactus produces jam!….. They do! The plant produces little pots of red jam. They grow on the outside of the plant a sort of brownish reddish colour, but they’re a bit hazardous to pick and you have to race the ants, the lizards and the birds for it, because it is so delicious that you ain’t got no chance if you is slow! (in the words of our guide). However if “you is slow” all is not lost because inside the long tall arms there is wood. Which you can use to build things, if others have eaten the jam.

Now you may think that with only Coconuts, Aloe Vera, Cactus Jam and Divi-Divi seeds to live on, one can be excused for thinking that the life span of a resident of Aruba is not long. Well you would be wrong, for some bizarre reason the life span of an Island resident used to be over a hundred years, but is now nearer eighty. This is due to the westernised diet that has become the islander’s fare. However we were told when you do eventually die they don’t put you six feet under, they put you six feet up, because they can’t bury you. The ground is too hard to dig a traditional six foot grave, so they put you in a little coffin shaped box and pile you one on top of each other, a bit like stacking shipping containers. Each container is decorated in the same style as the deceased house was, to make them feel at home so to speak and to verify the story we diverted via a local graveyard where the coffins were particularly tastefully decorated.

Gwen later pointed out that we may have noticed a number of little piles of stones atop of every available rock. She said the significance of these to the islanders meant (pause for dramatic effect) absolutely nothing. She was as bemused as everyone else who lived on the island, by these little piles of stones. It turns out that tourist are responsible. For some reason, known only to themselves tourist are driven to making little piles of stones atop any available fixed piece of rock and as other tourists see these little piles of rocks they assume that it’s an island custom and so do likewise.

And talking about rocks, the abundance of coral means that the dry stone walls (a subject close to my heart as some of you will know) have some interesting stones set in them. One particular wall had a piece of Brain Coral set into it, unfortunately when I got back to the ship I realised that photograph I took, was not of the section of the wall that had the brain coral in. You can imagine my disappointment.

We were then taken to such a large piece of coral that the islanders had carved steps into it. So we all climbed the steps to the top of the coral took some pictures of the island and climbed back down again. And the trip went on in much the same vein, a Bustop made of coral (I took a photo of Carol waiting for a bus under it) a restaurant made of coral, a lighthouse made of, yes, coral. They even took us to see two bridges made of coral but unfortunately the big one had fallen down, (eroded away by the action of the sea) so a disconsolate Gwen told us that it was now one small bridge and a fallen down big bridge, but if we looked at the small bridge we could imagine what the big bridge did look like before it fell down. So we all dutifully looked at the small bridge and imagined the once proud big bridge as it used to be. Sad really! As a whole collection of souvenir shops and ice cream vendors had relied on the two bridges and somehow a little one and a fallen down big one didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Anyway we all made our way back to our coach, which was Air conditioned, I mention this fact because whilst we were away mourning the demise of the big bridge, an island tourist couch had arrived and parked next to ours and Gwen pointed out it’s energy efficient air conditioning – a complete absence of windows. I took a photo of Carol next to it and made a mental note to advise Shaun of the concept the next time the Jolly Brewers bar gets overheated.

Anyway on to the highlight of the tour, a trip in a semi sub. A semi sub is not really a semi sub it is a boat with windows under the water line, but semi sub sounds more exiting and it would have been churlish to argue what in fact was a moot point. This trip was to look at fish and a sunken ship. I couldn’t help musing on the fact that it was a bit insensitive to show a whole load of passengers from a cruise ship, fish swimming around a sunken ship. But they did and it was very interesting.

It seems that at the outbreak of war this German freighter found itself on the wrong side of the Atlantic so whilst anchored off this (then) neutral island they cogitated on their predicament. Should they attempt to run the blockage of Royal Navy ships, submarines and aircraft or spend the war in this paradise of a neutral tropical Island with its pure white beaches and azure skies. Then just as they were mulling over their options, fate, as fate tends to do, took a hand in things. Mr Hitler made a move that was to seriously inconvenience the crew of this particular freighter, he invaded Holland. Oops! Suddenly this Dutch Antilles tranquil paradise had become a whole lot more menacing, and sure enough they were soon to observe a boatload of Dutch marines heading their way. They were informed quite politely that they had twenty-four hours to depart or face the consequences. Rock and a hard place must have sprung to mind. But the captain was a resourceful man and he ordered the boilers to be lit and that steam be got up. The island observed the smoke from the stack and smiled in grim satisfaction, having advised the allies of the presence of this particular vessel. The chief engineer reported to the captain that steam was up and if he did not leave soon would be up to dangerous levels. The captain ordered the ship’s crew to board the boats and leave the ship. He then made his way below, put the blowers on the boilers up to full, opened the sea cocks and made his way back on deck and clambered down to the last remaining boat. As they made their way to the shore there was a humongous explosion and down she slowly went. The crew spent the war on their tropical island as POW guests of the Dutch Marines. And we ended up peering down at what remains of their ship.

By this time our heads were reeling with all the strange stories we had been told and returned to the ship, wondering if we had been the victims of some complicated practical joke. But I think not, but this really is an island that makes Alice Through the Looking Glass appear sensible.

Monday 27th January

05:45 Pre-dawn, woke to the sight of ships lights as far as the eye could see and that was from our cabin, I stopped counting at 40. The ship was creeping along, picking its way carefully through the ships jostling for position to transit the Panama Canal. We pick the pilot up at 07:30 whilst we are having breakfast. Dawn is beginning to assert its grip on the day as the tropical rain clouds turn from black through thunder grey, then light grey. We are being fussed over by three canal authority launches carrying out various formalities required before we can commence our transit. Finally we are allowed into the canal zone under pilots control, past the breakwater. Panama is the only place in the world where the pilot takes full control of the navigation of the ship. Everywhere else the captain stays in control and the pilot advises.

While we are still creeping forward at a snail’s pace, the sun finally breaches the horizon and the effect under the leaden sky is dramatic. All the waiting ships light up as if under a giant searchlight outlined against a dark grey background. There is a stunned silence as the full effect is taken in, all those ships lit up in a golden glow. Then just as quickly it was gone as the sun rose above the cloud base and out of sight until later in the day. That sight alone was worth getting up early for. As we approach the shoreline we can see that it is covered in lush green tropical rain forest, a reminder along with dense cloud that we are in the tropical rain belt. While we are still six miles from the first set of locks, we pass a huge container terminal, puzzling at first, but this is where ships that are too big to transit the Panama discharge their containers, which are then taken the 50 miles or so from the Atlantic to the Pacific by train, double decked. Quite a sight.

We continue to creep at little more than walking pace towards the first set of locks, passing the entrance to the new canal being built to double the capacity of the canal on our left and almost exactly opposite, poignantly, the abandoned French canal. Even from this view we can see why the Panama Canal has been described as the largest and most difficult engineering projects ever undertaken. As we approach the first lock we watch the ship ahead exit and enter the second chamber. The gates close behind her and turbulence outside the gates we are approaching, indicate that our lock is emptying in readiness to accept us. Right in front of the dock gates we can see traffic flowing, there is a single track swing bridge that allows traffic to cross the canal whilst the lock gates are closed, however traffic has to wait up to 45 minutes if the gates are in use. Must remember this when next waiting at the Waterbeach crossing.

Now the fun starts. On both sides of the lock, little train tugs called Mules are getting into position to drop their cables to us. They have a very deep intermittent warning buzz. They won’t pull us through the lock, (our engines drive us forward), as we will only have two feet between us and the lock wall on either side, their cables are only used to keep us central in the lock. A little rowing boat departs from the lock side with the cables from one of the mules and then does the same for the other mule. Bells ring, lights flash and the road bridge swings back into little housings in each side of the lock wall. The main lock gates begin to swing back to admit us into the first lock and with the mules taking up the slack on the cables and croaking like oversexed bull frogs we start to inch forward into the first chamber. At the same time the ship ahead of us is exiting the second lock into the third. We slip effortlessly into the first lock with three mules on each side of us keeping us central and the gates behind us close. The ship ahead of us is now in the third lock and we are in the first. Water from the second lock starts to empty into ours at the rate of 3 million gallons per minute and the ship starts to rise at a remarkable rate, due to the fact that most of the lock is occupied by ship and there is very little room for water. We are soon 28ft higher and ready to move into the second lock, while the ship ahead is ready to move out of the third lock onto the Gatun Lake. The process is then repeated in the second lock and we rise another 28ft and then finally the third lock. When we exit that lock we are 85ft above sea level and sailing in fresh water which affects our buoyancy, though not enough for us to notice, this mainly affects bulk carriers. Looking back we can see on the left the Gatun dam, which was used to create the largest man-made lake in the world at the time it was built and on the right we can see where the new canal will exit onto the lake. From entering the first lock at 08:10 to exiting the third lock at 10:20 the whole process has taken two hours ten minutes.

Clustered around the locks on the Gatun Lake are more ships waiting to descend the locks to the Atlantic.

We start to cross the Gatun Lake following the course of the original Gatun river bed which is the deepest part of the lake. And as we wind our way between islands that were once hilltops there is evidence everywhere of major work, dredging, widening and landscaping. They had hoped that the new canal would open on the one hundredth anniversary of the opening of the first canal in 1914. But they are not sure when this will now happen but they look like they are going flat out to get it finished. The course across the lake is approximately 22 miles and just prior to arriving at the locks that will take is down to the Pacific we have to pass through the Culebra Cut which is the narrowest part of the canal. The cut was excavated through solid rock and traverses the continental divide. This was the most difficult and dangerous part of the original construction and for the expansion they had to widen it using explosives whilst still handling traffic. There is still only space for traffic in one direction in this part of the canal.

We finally arrive at the Miraflores Locks which will allow is to descend to the Pacific I won’t go through the procedure again as it is the same going down as it was going up, (but in reverse). After passing through the locks we travel under the Bridge of America and out into the Pacific Ocean a journey of 51 miles that took us about eleven hours, at 85 feet above sea level, not bad when you consider how far it is and how long it would take to sail round Cape Horn.

A sea day tomorrow, we can catch up on some sleep.