This morning when I woke up there was a wall about 6 inches from my window.
This is obviously a rather unusual experience! Except if you’ve been in a lock before.
I’ve been through the Panama Canal, at this point, more times that I can really remember. That’s not bragging, or name dropping, it’s simply one of those weird facts that goes with the job. Transiting the Canal is breathtaking the first time you go through it, but it does sometimes lose it’s luster after a while. A colleague of mine back in the days of the library once said
It doesn’t matter that it’s hot and dusty and there’s nothing ot really see, they still all go out there and stare for hours at that big ugly ditch.
That’s a little harsh, as the Canal is really beautiful in places, but it does kind of encompass the “sameness” of the environment.
This is the first time though that I’ve had a cabin that has an outside view (I …might have mentioned that), and because portholes are the lowest level of window on the ship, when we go through a lock, my window ends up way below the ground. It’s an eerie feeling, being able to see and feel the ship lowering with nothing but these massive pitted stone walls visible. Occasionally you can even hear the grinding squeak as the hull brushes against the barriers. And it’s also dark, not really dark, but an odd grey light as if the sun is leaking in around a curtain even though the curtains are open.
Then there is a small, slow, nearly unnoticeable change in direction, and you can feel the ship moving upwards instead. Slowly, ever so slowly, the light comes back and the world becomes visible again.
I remember doing this once before in a much much smaller boat when my family and I went on a canal boat vacation in the UK. It’s still strange to think that the same technology that drives those much smaller canals is what drives this massive cut in between two continents..
And what led to me having a wall outside my window for a few hours this morning…