San Cristobal

Sea lions are everywhere! We lie in bed at night drifting off to sleep and then get startled awake by a loud splash and the sound of an old man coughing his guts up, but no its just the sea lions having a lovely time by our boat. We're eating breakfast in the morning and we see the sea lions leaping about in the water or trying to get into people's dinghies. Having lunch in the afternoon sheltering from the midday sun down below, we hear bubbles breaking on our hull - sea lions!! Walking along the jetty in the evening we side step their snoozing bodies. Yes they are smelly, yes they are a nuisance to those boats that leave their dinghies in the water or who have a sugar scoop stern but man, they're entertaining. We have spent hours in the water playing with them, chasing them in circles and blowing bubbles in their face. As an aside, we were calling them seals until a nature guide corrected us. Apparently seals shuffle their bodies to move forward and have internal ears where as sea lions, waddle along on their fins and have external ears. So there you go! Fact of the day.

Wreck Bay is a cute bay, sheltered but with the occasional rocking and rolling as the pleasure boats zoom in and out of their anchor spot. Reminiscent of La Playita but a lot less frequent. We had about 12 other boats anchored around us at best, but being a good sized bay, it didn't feel crowded and when the wind got up, many of these vessels left to take advantage of it and head to Marquesas. Woop more room for us!

The town of San Cristobal is quite touristy. The promenade is lined with dive and gift shops but there aren't that many tourists here and apparently we are in high season. There are plenty of benches to sit on…but the resident sea lions occupy them. It's so funny to see the tourists sitting on the floor or leaning against a wall for some respite whilst the sea lions are having a lovely comfortable snooze on the bench in the shade. Even if the benches are empty you don't want to be sitting on them due to the brown smelly slime the sea lions leave behind. They own this place and they know it!

When we were in San Cristobal, the roads were all being dug up. Unlike the construction companies in the UK though, the roads were dug up, re cobbled and laid back within days! It was quite impressive to see and these guys seemed to work 24/7. When in the interpretation centre, we saw aerial photos of the town in the 1940s and again in 2007. The expansion of the town had increased ten fold and with all this current construction, who knows how big it will get in another 30 years. The comforting thought though is the approach the Galapagos National Park has towards tourism. Mass tourism is a big no no here and that is reflected in the prices. To maintain their sustainable eco tourism strategy they keep their prices high, and therefore the footfall down. There's no way if we were living in the UK that we could have afforded to come to the Galapagos for a holiday and it is only just affordable to do it on a boat. We justified it as a once in a lifetime opportunity and we're glad we did.

Suitably rested from our 13 day passage and with the lay of the land, we booked a trip to go to Kicker Rock - located off the NW coast. From what we had seen so far of the water visibility and the cold water temperature (18-20 degrees surface), we opted to snorkel rather than dive the rock. For $60 /pp we were to snorkel at Los Lobos and Kicker Rock, spend an hour at a lovely beach and lunch was included. At 8am we were picked up by their dinghy and taken to a charter cat with 8 pasty German tourists. An hour out of the port and we arrived at Los Lobos, the first of our snorkelling destinations. We had the pleasure of watching marine iguanas swimming and feeding on algae…yes underwater. These guys can easily hold their breath underwater for an hour at a time, strictly vegetarian they spend that time grazing on the rocks before coming up for air and swimming ashore again to warm up. The sea lions were playing and chasing the iguanas around, using them as aquatic toys. Marine iguanas were the unexpected highlight of our day.

Kicker Rock was next on the itinerary and it made for an interesting snorkel. We saw baby sharks (of the Galapagos variety) and a good school of eagle rays along with sea turtles and more sea lions. Unfortunately no sighting of hammerhead sharks and no large reef or pelagic fish around. We must keep looking!

Yet to receive our autografo and uncertain when we will, we plan to book a land tour after Easter weekend.

From Pollywog to Shellback

Some of you will know what I'm talking about straight away from the title and others may think that I lost my mind during that 13 day passage.

Sailors who have already crossed the Equator are nicknamed (Trusty/Honorable) Shellbacks, often referred to as Sons of Neptune; those who have not are nicknamed (Slimy) Pollywogs.

Each Pollywog is expected to endure a standard initiation rite in order to become a Shellback

During the ceremony, the Pollywogs undergo a number of increasingly embarrassing ordeals (wearing clothing inside out and backwards; crawling on hands and knees on nonskid-coated decks; being swatted with short lengths of firehose; being locked in stocks and pillories and pelted with mushy fruit; being locked in a water coffin of salt-water and bright green sea dye (fluorescent sodium salt); crawling through chutes or large tubs of rotting garbage; kissing the Royal Baby's belly coated with axle grease, hair chopping, etc.), largely for the entertainment of the Shellbacks. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Line-crossing_ceremony

Dylan as a young boy crossed the equator with his parents so it was a given that he would preside as King Neptune during the proceedings and I would be at his mercy. O dear.

I'm reading down below and there is a suspicious amount of clunking, shuffling and chopping with the odd stifled giggle in the galley. I'm a very nosey person and it took great self control to not go and peak or make sure that he was cleaning up after himself. At midday (he decided to do the ceremony then as that would be when the sailors of yore did it once they had taken a noon sight), I was summoned to the cabin top where a very odd looking platter greeted me.

Reading from a notebook Dylan then continued with a poem he had knocked up but a few hours before:

“Something from the sea” - He encouraged me to eat some octopus that we had in tins as we had failed to catch a fish.

“A taste of the earth” - Now this was repulsive. He had created a concoction that was raw dough with uncooked rice and tabasco sauce inside. It was vile and I didn't swallow it, choosing to spit it in a very unladylike manner over the side. It quelled my appetite for a good 24 hours. Note to any dieters out there, this would work a treat. Just pop some raw dough in your mouth and attempt to chew.

“A thimble of brine” - Yep he got me to glug some sea water.

“But a full cup of mirth” - A shot of rum, now that I could do!

“Once a pollywog never to be, a shellback is what I christen thee” - then pompously poured a bucket of sea water over my head.

Et voila, I now join the shellbacks of the sailing world. 

(Dylan adds that the poem is copyrighted and all credits go to him)

My first long passage

--> Well that was unexpected! So focused was I in leaving Panama and starting our Pacific crossing that I never spared a thought for our impending sail to Galapagos. When on a test sail to ensure the gearbox was indeed fixed we just decided to keep on going rather than re-anchor. So it was with spontaneity that we headed into my first long passage that would see us under sail for more than a week.

Seasickness is always at the forefront of my mind when we are underway, so keen to keep it at bay but as we hadn't planned to leave when we did, I hadn't taken any of the medication I had obsessively stocked up on when back in the UK. Needn't have worried as I felt absolutely fine for the duration of the passage, able to read down below and even bake a cake when I fancied. Perhaps it was the flat seas and winds on the beam (when we had wind!) that owed to my wellbeing but I like to think that I have succeeded in banishing the 3 day, feeling like death, phase from my life forever. Dylan's Father did tell us that the Pacific Ocean was exactly that, the 'passive' ocean...I tend to agree from what we have seen so far.

The first couple of days saw us blasting out of the gulf of Panama at 7 knots with the current and wind behind us and very few sail changes. We used this as the settling in phase, trying to establish a routine for life underway and get enough sleep to not be totally useless. I'd say about 3 days in we had the routine down and started relaxing into what we thought would be a 7-10 day crossing. Hmmm Mother Nature had other plans but Dylan covered that in his other blog post so I'll leave it there. Suffice to say I shall never scoff at a 3 knot average again!

For those of you interested in what on earth we did for 13 days at sea with no land to break up the journey, here's a glimpse:

5 – 9am: I am asleep in the v berth whilst Dylan is on watch. This usually meant huddled under a beach towel lying in the cockpit with the egg timer on a 15 minute timer to ensure a look out was undertaken 4 times an hour. We would check whether there were any lights near us (other ships), our course and the wind strength and direction, adjusting as necessary.

9am: I wake up and whilst making breakfast (fruit and yoghurt), we both listen to the SSB net for any boats we know that may be near us. Unfortunately on this trip it included a good deal of moaning that boats were overtaking us with their motor on for days whilst we bobbed about in a dead zone. Oh and we also do our 3 hourly log entry in the logbook.

9 – 12pm: Reading, teaching myself to play the guitar, chores (I made a sunbrella cover for the dinghy gas tank and Dylan took all the varnish off the toe rail).

12pm: Noon reading. We would do the usual log entry and then determine how many miles we had sailed in the past 24 hours. We play the guessing game of “how many miles have we done” before we tally.

1pm: Lunch. Due to the obscene amount of cream cheese I seemed to have accumulated in the fridge, I think we ate cream cheese and crackers each day for the full 13 days so it wasn't exactly a time intensive task.

Afternoon: More reading, watching movies, chores, baking, snoozing and snacking. I soon realised that I had been living with a closet sugar monster for the past 4 years and took drastic action by hiding many of our biscuits and sweets for fear that we would have none left by the time we got to the Galapagos! As we speak Dylan has found the jelly beans and thinking he got away with it, sat devouring them in the cockpit. Ha he will have to do better than that.

3pm: Log reading.

6pm: Log reading and perhaps a glass of wine with dinner.

8pm: Dylan goes to bed and I stay on watch.

11pm: Watch change.

2am: Watch change.

5am: Watch change.

Rinse and repeat...

When in the Caribbean and doing day hops to islands, I would think of the first long passage we would have to do and it would fill me with dread. Other yachties would assure me that it got better but I was extremely dubious. As a comparison though, the hops in the Caribbean would almost always mean a 30+ mile slog to windward with significant swells and a hell of a lot of roll. Not knowing any different I just imagined the Pacific passages in those conditions but the duration multiplied by 30. How wrong I was. I never thought I would say this and Dylan don't you dare say “I told you so” but I'm actually finding these longer passages...ENJOYABLE...*gasp*. Being at sea with nothing around you for miles and relying totally on the boat and the provisions on board is so...satisfying. The nature we have already seen on this trip is breathtaking. We've had whales come to say hello, dolphins dance in our bow waves, birds hovering over us, fish looking like comets in the phosphorescent waves at night and even once becalmed, a turtle came to kiss our hull before the current sent him on his way. These experiences you just would never find anywhere else and we feel incredibly lucky to be witnessing them.

Dylan has fond memories of his Mom baking bread every other day and he has strongly hinted... OK more urged...that I do the same. There is enough flour on board to supply Hovis bread factory for a year so there really was no excuse. So how many times did I bake a loaf? Once. Perhaps that was due to our need to devour the cream cheese supply before it went off, who knows, but don't worry, he certainly didn't miss out, I fed him pizzas, herby bread (dutch oven style fat pancake - thanks Vicki), lemon drizzle cake and pancakes instead. All home made of course and made so much easier by the inventory I knocked up prior to departure, telling me where everything was stored. We look forward to dropping anchor so we can shed the ring of blubber that is developing around our waists and under our chins.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea though, I am still all about the destination not the journey on this trip, and I certainly would not call myself a sailor. However rather than a feeling of trepidation for the imminent 30 day passage to the Marquesas, I am now rather looking forward to it!

Bobbing to the Galapagos

“Wakey, wakey Dillyfaces. Its your watch”

“Anything to report?” I asked in a half hopeful tone.

“Nope, still bobbing backwards at 2 knots” - came the reply I was expecting but secretly hoping was not the case.

After 2 days of writing our names in cursive on the chart plotter, the atmosphere barometer on Orion had moved decidedly from “fair” to “stormy”. This was not what we had signed up for. Adrift with no sails up mid way between Panama and Galapagos.

I recall but only a few days prior scoffing at Alan and Jean's log of their previous trip to the Galapagos 25 years ago where it had taken them 11 days to do a mere 960 miles. We left Panama City shunting along at 7 knots. How did it come to pass that we were now barely managing 46 mile days (of which not all of that was in the right direction). As an aside, our worst day was probably a mere 20 miles.

Mother nature can be a cruel mistress. Although we were prepared for spots of “light and variable” winds mid way into the journey, we were not prepared for the 2 knot northerly current that seemed inexplicably intent on dragging us back to Panama.

I ran my fingers over the callouses I had acquired at the end of each day. I had done more sail changes than I care to remember – and this is with a roller furling headsail. At the slightest puff of air, we were pulling out canvas to, if anything, stop our retreat north.

Light winds saw us moving at slightly over 2 knots with the actual speed over ground very near to a single knot. We began to rejoice if the speedo went into whole numbers and the compass pointed anywhere south.

We had been studying GRIB files for weeks in the build up. We knew that there is a wind hole en route. We had taken the advice of Jimmy Cornell and others and headed as far south as we dared before bearing off towards the Galapagos. How had this all happened?

Flat calm

Our morning routine of listening in to the Pan Pacific Net was punctuated with lats and longs from other sailors on the same course, experiencing similar conditions. We plotted them each day as they slowly crept up on us and then over took us. Damn them and their engines and deep diesel pockets.

One night, whilst sail-less and adrift steaming briskly further from our target, we spotted a light. A fellow sailor! Except they were moving. We watched them motor past us and then stop (probably ran out of fuel or had to do their 4^th oil change or something I thought). The wind picked up and our sails appeared and we started scooting towards them but their tricolour was now an anchor light and they were completely stationary. As I went zooming by (...at 2 knots) I hailed them on the VHF so that we could share our misery at the current wind conditions or perhaps they had a more recent weather report than the one I had from a week ago.

There was no answer from the ghost ship and we speculated as to if it had been one of those on the morning net checking in with their position. There was also this mental image of them having dropped the anchor and gone off to bed after a hard night motoring...

We got very frustrated with the conditions. The 'no wind' we can deal with, it was the sense of despair at going backwards that had us shaking our fists at the sky. First cursing, then pleading, then resorting to just plain old begging. One night as I lay in the cockpit on watch staring at the stars an unfamiliar alarm started to sound. Leaping into action I discovered that the depth alarm was sounding. We were in sub 10ft of water! How the bloody hell... Either Sally's navigation skills were deteriorating or there was some imminent volcanic activity threatening to create a new island right beneath us. It was neither. A large fish (or shark) was having a lovely time swimming under our depth sensor and setting it off. After my mild heart palpitations had subsided, I disabled the depth alarm and continued my vigil of counting stars.

After a few days, we became rather stoical about it all. Wind will eventually find us. We will eventually get out of this wind hole and be on our way. There was enough food and water on board for a good few months, so why worry. Sure most of our friends will probably be in Fiji by the time we enter San Cristobal (Galapagos) but hey, the only plan we have is to have no plan.

Once we had started to accept our state, we began to appreciate everything that was. One still evening, sails down and sitting in the cockpit watching an amazing sunset, we saw movement in the dark blue beneath us. Sure enough a turtle came plodding along and inspected our hull. It seemed to whisper a brief blessing before the 2 knot current swept us away from him.

With a full main and jib out and pointing as high as we can to maximise the apparent wind we were still puttering along very slowly. This however meant that there was barely a sound as we made our way through lake flat water. Suddenly a mighty “whoosh” was heard that had us springing to life. A large humpback whale no more than 20 metres away had come up from the depths for a spot of air.

Camera out we tried desperately to pot a few shots. There is always that dilemma of – do I go below and grab the camera and maybe miss something, or stay and just appreciate the experience. So we share this responsibility. Sally goes below to fetch the camera and I keep her informed about what she is missing!

A friend of ours recently wrote a blog post / article about how no matter how crappy a sail you are having, dolphins will always make it better. How true it is. Those playful little rapscallions seem to delight in coming over to boats and surfing alongside for a few minutes to say a cheery “hi” before scampering off to find their next feed. On this trip we saw no shortage of whales and dolphins. Dolphins that would leap 8 feet out of the air and once we saw the whole pod leaping out of the water and dive back in multiple times as they scurried away.

Even 400 miles from the nearest land, we saw various interesting birds. Some tiny finch like looking species rested briefly on Orion before heading on its way. It was by no means a sea bird and could not land on the water. What it was doing out here was anyone's guess.

Eventually the wind did find us and the current did abate. We were making 5 knots through the water with only 9 on the beam. The shitty part in the middle will be relegated to our list of many sailing anecdotes to regale (read 'bore') friends and other yachties with over a beer.

Galapagos Islands, here we come!

Adding a spinnaker pole to Orion (Tartan 37)

I have owned a grand total of 1 boat in my relatively short lifetime - Orion. She has been an incredible learning experience from day one (when the water pump started making a funny noise - resulting in me stripping it to bare bones, only to find out that the water tank had run dry…Doh!).

Rigging work was a bit new to me.
I called in the big guns. A local Kiwi rigger and a friend from Toodles (also a Kiwi - but he could not help that). I spent many hours sourcing parts. Both driving around with a long "to get" list and internetting! Thank goodness for the internet.

With the kit all arranged, we set to work putting on a spinnaker track and pole (sourced in Portobello - second hand). I learnt valuable lessons about tapping masts and thread sizes among other things. I give great thanks to Gary (Toodles) and Jim Laing for their help and advice.

Making swiss cheese of our mast

Gary on Toodles helping me out

Ready and raring to go

We've loaded the boat with mountains of food, piled the aft berth with toilet roll (well you just never know!) and slowly but surely ticked off the to do list. OK so we haven't finished all the chores but there is a point when one comes to terms with the age old saying that cruising is fixing boats in exotic places. Well La Playita is hardly exotic but more on that later.

We drew a line under our to do list and decided that the time had come to leave Panama and head for the big blue Pacific ocean, the rest of the chores could be done en route. A last minute veggie shop and we were off, Panama City skyline in the distance the plan was to sail to the Las Perlas for a week before making the jump to the Galapagos.

And boy were we relieved to leave La Playita anchorage behind. The pilot boats zoom in and out of the anchorage all day long with no regard for the many sail boats anchored off the breakwater. This results in being violently thrown around by their large wake, grabbing onto anything you can and steadying any items that may be on surfaces /floors. It was funny the first few times but it soon wears thin, especially when attempting to put provisions away and you see a perfectly stacked tin castle come tumbling towards you. Similarly with getting in and out of the dinghy, if you timed it just right with the wake of a big pilot boat, there was no need to step up from the dinghy onto Orion, a mere step across was more than sufficient.

Isla Contadora was our first stop in Las Perlas and we were joined by Legend IV. Anchoring away from the rest of the fleet, to the east of the airport we got our head around the tides (yes we are from the UK but have never actually done any sailing there, only racing) and dropped the hook near a lovely looking reef. That same reef rewarded us with a 7lb red snapper when Dylan went to try out his new speargun. Getting our final internet fix we went ashore to the resort and then the next day headed to Isla Bayoneta.

Pelican following us

Dolphin coming to say hello

Our new pet

Isla Bayoneta was chosen as the cruising guide described it as having 'large cowrie shells on the western shore'. I'm still uber keen to add to my shell collection so it was a must have stop for me and a day sail away. Did I find any beauties? Yes although not what I was expecting. Many small cowries and the best of the bunch, a pink murex. The dinghy ride to the spot is not for those with small outboards, a good 3 miles away you punch into the waves to get there.

Rio Cacique was our next stop, again with Legend IV as we fancied a trip up a river. It was no Dominica but a welcome change of scenery nonetheless.

Fly landing on Dylan's cheek

But onto the more poignant matter...when approaching the anchorage motoring into the current...our gearbox went (again). This had already happened to us when in Puerto Rico so we recognised the signs straight away. One minute we were doing a comfortable 5 knots into 2 knots of current and the next, we are doing 1.8 knots. Now we did think hmm maybe it is a very very strong tide but when revving the engine further, we did not move anywhere. Eeeek. Sailing onto anchor is no big deal for us as Dylan has made us practice on many an occasion so thats what we did.

Engine off, everything out of the lockers and down Dylan went to inspect the damage. No line around the prop, no visible breaks but when taking the oil stick out of the gearbox he saw iron filings. Not good and exactly what happened to us only 100 engine hours earlier.

So what do we do? Become like the Pardey's and shrug off the engine? Attempt to fix it ourselves with the spare thrust washers we have on board? Sail back to La Playita where we have just fled from having been there for 3 weeks too long and employ professional help? After a long discussion roping Legend IV into our decision making process, we opted for the latter. A 50 mile beat back to La Playita with no engine and potentially no wind.

Now in the previous blog Dylan mentioned how impressive Legend IV and she sure proved it to us. Jean and Alan very kindly offered to tow us into some wind to get us on our way so attaching a tow rope to our forward cleats, we were towed at up to 6 knots against the tide until we found a puff...some 30 miles further north! Jean and Alan saved us hours of frustrating tacking and wallowing and we owe them a box of wasabi peas a thousand times over.

Letting go of the tow we get the gib out and zoom off, beating into 30 knots in a flat sea...very pleasant and nice and fast. We stayed with this wind well into the night and only when we neared La Playita did the wind start to die. Anchoring on the Las Brisas side of the causeway we earned a new badge - anchoring under sail and in the dark in one of the worlds busiest shipping ports!

Now they say these things happen in threes...the next afternoon we are sulking on the boat waiting for Monday to come around so we could palm our sick gearbox off to a mechanic. A friend invited us for ceviche, we accepted and thought it prudent to once again back down on the anchor before we leave as Las Brisas anchorage is renowned for its poor holding. Yes our gearbox is sick but reverse works just fine! We whack her up to 2000 revs and poor Orion starts to drag (for the first time ever). Enlisting the help of a friend with a 40HP outboard on their dinghy (thanks Patrick), he zooms around to help us out of our predicament and whilst doing so our windlass decides to stop working (another first for Orion). Arrrrgh we are being tested to the limit! I swap positions and take up the helm whilst Dylan manually secures the chain.

We decide Las Brisas isn't so welcoming and opt to be towed around to La Playita. Although swelly at least we know the holding there is way better if you have enough scope out. Beers all round we check the anchor and then go ashore for some well deserved pickled raw fish!

The gearbox goes in on Monday and we get it back the following day, now how is that for service! So why did it break after only 100 engine hours of usage? Apparently the gearbox is overheating and we have a cooler we can now attach to the gearbox to stop it from happening again. Although a frustrating situation, we are very glad we know the root cause of the problem and that it happened when it did. Can you imagine if it had broken when going through the canal?! I shudder even contemplating it.

A scenario that put a major downer on our Pacific adventure actually turned out to be a minor blip that only put us back by 3 days. They say every cloud has a silver lining and for this cumuli nimbus it was in the form of a tablet. Very impressed by the ipad's ability to function as a back up chart plotter, we have purchased a cheaper version (Acer) and look forward to navigating now via Navionic's en route to Galapagos. The gearbox drama was obviously the universe's way in telling me that I had finished shopping yet!

What a Legend

Who would have thought 25 years ago when I was a mere 6 years old, I would be sitting in the same anchorage half way around the world, with the same friends at the same time. Jean and Alan circumnavigated the globe 25 years ago on Legend and were buddy boat to our Nyati (which means "water buffalo" in Zulu) - I don't recall having a say in the name…

Sally and I now sat on their slightly upgraded Legend IV. An Oyster 575. Jean and Alan are off to do it again. This time they decided to let Oyster do some of the bureaucratic work as part of the Oyster 2013 World Rally. They do however have to sail their own boat. But even some of the hard work has been taken out of that task with the help of electric winches to haul sails up and in.

It is one of those nosy pastimes to peruse another mans boat. I find it very interesting as one can often learn neat tips and tricks in doing so. But we really should not go aboard yachts that are less than a year old (and over 50 feet!) We are still suffering some pretty heavy boat envy.

Sally still can't get over the washing machine that is neatly hidden in the galley. 

But enough about the boat. I moved to London almost 10 years ago and have probably seen Jean and Alan once since then when I was on a trip to South Africa to see my parents. I was very glad to find that they haven't changed much. 

We had been in contact over the last few months as Legend was playing catch up with Orion and stopping at many of the destinations that we had blogged about. We were in two different oceans. Legend in the Atlantic and Orion in the Pacific. 

As Legend meant to get to the Pacific, we offered to help (as this would be our 4th time in as many weeks transiting the canal). The offer was to spend 2 nights aboard so that we did not have to rush on the morning of the transit. We had a bunch of chores to do during the day and then shuffled over to Colon via a gratefully air conditioned bus in afternoon traffic. After a brief wrestle with a taxi driver over the price of fare to get us to Shelter Bay Marina (which is the pimple on the bum that is Colon) - I.e. its a fair way out of town - we made it. 

We were welcomed aboard Legend IV and reacquainted with Jean and Alan (whom Sally had never met). Chris and Nelly, (friends of Jean and Alan) were also aboard as they are sailing to Galapagos with Legend. Chris is a wealth of information as he is a meteorologist and has great experience sailing / racing. 

Jean and I

We sat down and were soon swapping stories and catching up on past events, lubricated by a steady supply of fermented Panamanian hops and barley. Sally and I had bunk beds to snooze in and it just so happened to be above the freezer water outlet through hull. The constant sound of trickling water made me go to the loo about 5 times during the night. Terrified of using the "not so whisper quiet" electric heads, I took many a pee off the jetty.

The next day saw us off to the flats to await our advisor before we headed through the locks. We were rafted with 2 other Oysters and the whole lock was filled with yachts (no ships this time). Thanks Oyster World Rally organisers! 

The lock was filled using only one pipe (rather than the normal two) meaning that there was a slightly slower rate of ascent, but way less wash / turbulence. As such the boats did not tend to get bashed around as much and less tension on the cleats.

We tied up to the large mooring ball and enjoyed a pleasant evening listening to the howler monkeys singing to us with anything but melodic tones. 

The next day we had the same advisor back again and ploughed through Gatun Lake with 150 hp Volkswagen engine barely even making a murmur beneath us. We re-rafted with the other Oysters and began our decent. Legend's bow thruster a huge help in keeping the raft centred.

Suddenly I noticed that the vessel next to us had no raw water exiting the exhaust. Quick to understand the implications (especially as i had just noticed this in lock 1), I warned the skipper.

To which he laughed and said if he had a dollar for every time some one noticed he would have been able to buy a larger Oyster (apparently raw water exits below the water line and there are a myriad of electronic devices to monitor slight changes in engine dynamic).

We reached the Pacific hassle free and dropped anchor with the rest of the Oyster fleet and a few yards from little old Orion.
Legend IV, ready to cross the pacific.