Sailing to Panama

Robby Buck does Panama Canal
by Captain Jeff McConnel


Who is Robby Buck and why does he spend so much time sailing? Good question. Robby began sailing in Southern California in the early 1960's, having been raised in the Long Beach area he was naturally drawn to the sea. This was not just a passing fancy for him, as of the end of 2004 he had logged more than 600,000 miles of saltwater moving under hundreds of keels. In 2004 alone, he completed 5 transpacific crossings, taking his total transpacs to 70! Sailing fanatic, that is putting it mildly, Robby eats, breathes and sleeps the ocean life, a recent blood test revealed he had more salt in his vains than hemoglobin, (just kidding!).

Robby moved from Southern California to Maui, Hawaii in the late 60's to follow his dreams to work and play on the warm waters of the tropics. He still lives in Honolulu, Hawaii when he is not delivering a boat to or from Hawaii. If you are lucky, when he is in Hawaii, he is often the man that runs out to the dock at Hawaii Yacht Club helping with docklines and offering the visiting sailors from overseas their first "aloha". He has become a fixture at the club, some may even say a character, that proudly acts as port captain. He has befriended hundreds, maybe thousands of sailors that have plied the Pacific and arrived at the docks of the Hawaii Yacht Club, and is well known in sailing circles throughout the Eastern and Central Pacific. It is difficult to arrive at a port where Robby is not known.

In November he and a crew of 3 delivered "The Dream", a Swan 431, from Honolulu to Long Beach, California. A few days out of Hawaii, the auxiliary diesel died, and 18 days later he pulled quietly into the Los Alamitos Yacht Club, under sail alone. With the aid of their hoist he and a fellow mechanic they removed the engine and installed a rebuilt Perkins. He was then asked by the owner to deliver the vessel to Panama. I fortunately happened to call at that time to see how things were going and found that he could use another crew for the trip. Having been through the canal once before on a Tayana 55 a number of years ago I jumped at the offer. Sailing as "the captain" for many years myself, it was a welcome opportunity to sail as a mate, especially with a man with Robby's experience. This was Robby's first experience transiting the ditch, so maybe I could be a bit of help in that way. The other crew was a longtime childhood friend of Robby's, Mike Gearhardt, a marine surveyor who lived on his Catalina 30 just a couple slips away from the transcient dock.

The beginning of December brought record low temperatures, (global warming, my _ss!). As we departed for the fuel dock it was 34 degrees. After fueling we pulled the docklines in and immediately had our first adventure. The shift linkage had come loose, after 20 hours of motor trials, and at such an inappropriate time! We were able to get a line back to the dock, and Robby got to show off his mechanical expertise before we even left the safety of the breakwater. We finally got underway, motorsailing south enroute for Mexico. Sometimes the excitement just never stops, within the first our I noticed that the allen screws that secure the foil for the rollerfurl had backed out, causing chaffing and some tears in the new headsail. Within minutes, Robby's foredeck racing experience was called into play, up the mast we hauled him, down the forestay, allen wrench in hand, tightening as we lowered him to each junction. What a shame they hadn't heard of locktite when assembling the foil!

Our first few days were spent in long johns, sweatshirts, jackets, gloves, boots, scarfs and foul weather gear, and we were still cold. As tough and hardy as Robby is, he still doesn't like the cold at all, if only profanity could ignite we would be warmer! The cruise down to the border and south into Mexico was smooth and even glassy at times.

December 4, we are still motorsailing in light and variable winds, the high pressure that kept the skies so cold and clear has passed and been replaced with some intermittent light rains and shifting winds. Sunrise this morning brought into view the Cedros Islands, barren volcanic mountains offshore the mainland of Baja. We passed close by the western side of the island, avoiding a group of charted yet invisible shallow reefs that lay a few feet below the surface. Kelp beds kept us even further off the shallows. We came across a couple of young fishermen in a brightly painted yellow panga (skiff). They waved and held up some lobster asking if we wanted any, (is the bear a catholic?) of course the answer was "oh yeah". Our next challenge was to negociate two things, payment and transfer while moving along at a good clip in 2-3 foot seas between an aluminum panga and a fiberglass sailboat. I asked "quanto dinero", hoping that meant how much, (I did take Spanish 1 & 2 in 1965!). They shook their heads no and asked for candies! I asked Mike to go down and grab some out of the goodie bag that Betty, my stepmom, made up before I left. Robbie was a little reluctant to have these guys get very close to the boat and was getting a bit anxious. With candies in a baggie tossed to the fishermen and a bag of five lobsters tossed to us up on deck we made the flying exchange at 3 knots, "muchas gracias, adios". That settles what I'll be cooking, the gourmet lunch, FRESH LOBSTER (in garlic butter), couscous, beer and to finish off M&M's for desert! It doesn't get much better than that.

We were cruising along at 6.5 knots trying to make it to Turtle Bay before it got pitch black. We had about 18 miles yet to go and about 2 1/2 hours of light left, good thing we had lots of working navigation gear onboard. We intended to anchor there for the night and refuel in the morning, maybe even do a quick oil change on the new engine. We arrived in Bahia de Tortugas, Turtle Bay at 630pm, just in the last lingering light of day, found a suitable anchor spot, dropped the hook, backed down and we were ready for a nice calm night of sleep without the engine running.

At 630 am a young entrepenuer with a panga came alongside and asked if we wanted fuel and how much. We ordered 40 gals to start, and would maybe get more to top off the jerry jugs. Enrique told us he would bring 140 liters, the same as 40 gals, and charge us $2.10 per gallon. The price for the fuel seemed pretty reasonable for the delivery and its remote location, but not sure yet if the liter/gal conversion is accurate. We did hear radio chatter about some upcoming low pressure and frontal band that was supposed to hit Baja later that day. After fueling we headed out, nonetheless, on our route south, right into winds from the south, blowing 15 to 20 knots. This we found to be discouraging, sailors prefer to sail downwind, we motor sailed for three hours and made 9 miles, the boat handled the chop quite smoothly. We were able to shut down the engine and sail close reached (pointing high into the wind) for the remainder of the day, but by evening it was apparent the front would hit us right at dark. As is the case sometimes we were not going to make the next point in one tack so we decided to sail close to the point then turn offshore for a few miles and continue southeast. As the light faded and the front struck, Robby and I turned offshore to avoid an ugly intersection with a lee shore. The wind piped up to around 30 knots, the seas continued to grow and tumble over the bow and soak the decks and our faces, our foul weather gear was being used for foul weather. The rain then struck in sheets propelled by gravity and the 30 knot winds making even reading the compass a chore while trying to steer a course offshore. The point rapidly faded from view because of the rains, but we knew it was still within 2 miles of us, and the wind was determined to blow us in that direction. We fired up the engine again to give us that extra bit of insurance that we could crawl out to sea to safer grounds. The wind, as our good fortune had it, started clocking in a more favorable direction. After a long half hour we got ourselves about 5 miles off the point before we started to feel a bit more comfortable. The conditions were just downright nasty, blowing cold rain in our faces as waves crashed on the boat spraying us with the briney too! Both Robby and I stayed on watch for the next 6 hours until we were comfortable enough to have one watch or crew handling the steering and not worrying about the navigating and sail changes necessary in adverse conditions as we encountered around the point. What kept us both going through those "not so fun hours" was that we firmly believed the weather the next day would be gourgeous.

We were both right, actually by the midnight shift the skies had cleared, sailing under reefed sails at top speed with unlimited visibility. I sat up through most of Robby's watch, going between the cabin, navigating our way offshore, back on deck to help with the sailing. Misery loves company, and it did help both of us. I'm sure I wouldn't have slept much anyway, the anxiety of the conditions and the motion down below just wasn't going to allow sleep to come easy. The weather mellowed a bit, the skies began to clear as we got Mike up for his watch. He didn't quite understand what all the fuss was about, I think he is fortunate enough to be one of those able to sleep through earthquakes, fire or explosions. He enjoyed a great watch and by the time the sun was rising a few hours later things just looked rosy. Sunny blue skies with patchy white clouds gave no indication of the front that had slammed us during the night. The rest of the day gave us a pretty decent break, albeit, some leftover chop made for a peculiar blend of motions on deck.


The next morning brought us close enough to see the islands offshore of Magdalena Bay, famous for the wintering grounds for the North Pacific Humpback Whales and California Gray Whales. We were not fortunate enough to see any of the creatures near their winter vacation spots. We cruised down the coast close enough to again enjoy the mountainous rocky coastlines that Baja is known for, where the desert meets the sea. As we approach the "tropic of cancer" (23 degrees north latitude, plus change) we began to see more of the reptilian looking birds, the frigate, or "man of war". They earn their name because much of their diet is relegated from other sea birds who had just scooped up what they thought was a great fish dinner, when the pirate of the winged world descends at high speeds and steals the fish. One can hardly blame them, unlike most birds, the frigates' wings, although great for gliding and soaring have feathers that do not contain protective oils. If the "man of war" gets its wings soaked then it cannot fly, this is not good for a bird that spends months at sea at a time. I guess they sleep and fly at the same time. More pods of dolpins are joining in our boat wake as we make way southeastward to Cabo San Lucas. The end of Baja California's, great peninsula, where the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez meet.

We arrived in Cabo San Lucas about a half hour before sunset, cruised right to the fuel dock and within a short time had replenished all the diesel neccessary to journey on. After finding that, yes, the marina had slip space (just one mind you) available we pulled off the dock with a case of "sticker shock", $140 US per night to stay, and that didn't include the pedicure. We had the right stuff just to say no, an anchor and chain, well placed in the sand directly off Cabo's great beach front, smooth and calm.
We had an early night of guacamole and chips, soup and salad. After cruising at sea for the last few days it was a welcome quiet and calm night of sleep with no interruptions for night watches, and no foul weather gear.

Our next destination lay across the " Sea of Cortez" on the mainland of Mexico, most likely Zihuatanejo. This sail was one of the best, a breaching Pacific Humpback whale that Mike saw on his watch and a first for me, a 35 foot Fin or Finback whale that surfaced a couple of times, once quite near, showing a shiny black skin with a dorsel fin that had a curve or hook to it. As was becoming the norm, night and day we had dolphin escorts surfing our wakes.

A few hours after heading out of Cabo, the wind direction changed to Northerly, our course being Southeast, this gave us a great, I mean GREAT downwind sail, sailing at 7 knots and better. The seas increased in size to 6-8 feet, however this we used to our advantage now, surfing along downwind. There just isn't any greater direction than this, appropriately called a broad reach, it has always been my favorite. These condtions appeared to be with us for some time, promising us a great ride to our next landfall.

We each had our normal 3 hour watch during the night except this one was all hands on the helm and standing, full attention required to sail at full speed, surfing down the swells with only the starlight to guide us. The hours passed faster than most, due to the sheer excitement of sailing conditions. We were also blessed with a meteor shower, ( see, we do have showers aboard!) to keep our attention at its peak. This night didn't bring me tons of sleep but I did catch some winks after 3am, what a night. Our noon position, which gives us our 24 hour run out of Cabo put us at 154 nautical miles, WOW, our best run yet. The conditions are very consistent at 20-25 knots of windspeed and 6-8 foot seas on our port quarter. Robby found that some of our bread was starting to develop culture faster than us so he tossed some, and with remaining made French Toast, (or is it "freedom toast now"?) for breakfast for the crew. Life is grand, as Robby says," the weather is here, wish you were beautiful!" Speaking of beautiful, Robby's kids are also his favorite crew, three stuffed monkeys. He says they are great, they don't eat, never sleep, and are always "on watch"!

During one afternoon motorsail I was mentioning how fortunate we were to have the engine running so well. In mid sentence as I was saying that, the diesel began to race. Immediately I said, "shut the motor down, we a running out of fuel". We got it shut down within 20 seconds or so but not soon enough, as we sucked air into the fuel system. Aaaghh! That means the system has to be bled out of air before it will start again. We first added 10 gallons of diesel we had in jugs on deck into the tank. We tried starting it then to no avail, "expletives deleted for mature but tasteful readers", then the introduction to the tropical diesel engine room sweatlodge at sea program, no extra charge. I started nearest the tank with the fuel separator, which of course had run dry, replaced the already dirty filter, added fuel, sealed and secured it for leaks. We once again tried to start the engine, no joy. Next it is necessary to go to the lift pump on the engine, manually pump fuel from the separator to the secondary filter, open a bolt to let the air escape until it is only diesel squirting at you. From there the same loosen the nut, let it squirt at you thing happens with each injector using the lift pump. This failed to bring the wanted results also. I opened the separator again, filled it with fuel again and then bled the injectors while the engine was turning over, for more effective face squirting diesel baths, and in the end that sound we all love, rrrrrrrruuuuuuuunnnnnn!!. So "high fives" and we are off and running again, vowing not to believe a fuel gauge that shows half a tank (a fifty gallon one at that), and truly only holds less that 15 gallons at the time. Boat fuel tanks are "V" shaped and the guages are not very accurate, in fact when we were showing 1/4 tank, we only had 5 gals left, not 12 1/2 gallons.

Just short of two weeks at sea, Robby at the helm, we cruised into Zihuatanejo, a small village surrounding a beautifully protected bay and anchorage. We did row into shore a bit before noon to visit the harbor master. We were told to go over to immigration first before we could check the boat in. We stopped at a small restaurant and bar called Ricks. We were referred to Ricks by one of the cruisers, Mark, who rowed over and welcomed us to the bay at Zihuatanejo. He said we could get good food, do laundry, shower, use the internet, arrange for a host of services, get local information and guidance all in one spot. So right he was, as it turns out Rick is a friend of Bob and Jody Bitchen from the Latitudes and Attitudes. Rick hosts an annual regatta, The Zihua Sailfest, that raises money for supplies at the local schools, if your in the area don't miss it. The cruisers world is somehow a tight circle spread out over time and distance and bonded together by sailing machines. As it turned out we had our lunch, more than a few beers, never got all the way to the immigration office, oh well, manana. We made some phone calls, did some emailing, shot the bull, and generally carried on as sailors have for ions. We ended up taking a taxi around to the other side of the bay, had a great seafood dinner as the sun set off the point that isolates the bay from the open ocean. Some local folks were celebrating a birthday at the restaurant, dancing and partying, before long they had grabbed Robby and Mike and had them tearing up the dance floor, as a matter of fact I think I ended up dancing a bit too! After the deliciously fresh seafood dinner we taxied back to Ricks where a singer guitarist from Alabama ,Josie, was entertaining more of the local cruising community. More stories and various boating connections were made.
------Christmas Eve day, 2004, we are at sea enroute to Huatulco, a renowned area for its naturally beautiful bays, beaches, and resort areas. It is also one of the last marina areas available before crossing the Bay of Tehuantepec, a large bay stretching nearly 200 miles from point to point that well known for gail force winds in excess of 150 days a year, mostly during the winter months. It is said that you wait and enjoy Huatulco and the surrounding bays until there is a weather window, then with one foot dragging in the sand, sail the perimeter of the bay, DO NOT CROSS, the winds change rapidly and fiercely, most always blowing offshore, or out to sea. If one is caught 30 or 40 miles off the land in this area it is not unusual to have 20 to 30 foot seas beating the boat and crew with no regard for their preferences. If you cross the bay close to shore you still run the risk of high winds, however, you don't have the seas built up.

We arrived at the entrance to Marina Chahue, pronounced Chow Way, the newly constructed marina facility built by a state/federal cooperative tourism arm called Fonatur. This is the same agency which built and promoted other Mexican tourist resort destinations Cancun, Ixtapa, and Cabo San Lucas. The Harbor Master, Enrique Laclette began by showing us to a great slip, helping us with our docklines, checking us in with no hassle and generally making us feel at home. Welcome to Huatulco! We set up our awning and took a siesta immediately, just to make the cultural adjustment, of course.

Later that afternoon we grabbed a taxi for the of Lacrucecita, a quaint little town that survives on a mix of tourism, cruise ship folks a couple of times a week, local tourists from Mexico City, and yachties. The people of Southern Mexico have a racial mix that includes more indigenous blood, their physical features being different than those further north. They are a very industrious sort that are often found peddling handcrafted carvings, wooden spoons and forks, shirts, etc. The folks here are very family oriented, kids being very cared for and included in all sorts of play and work, as they learn to help out their families in various business ventures. I saw four year olds stacking soda bottles in their crates at a small makeshift open air cafe at a local beach the other day. I observed that the inhabitants here appear to be quite content with their lives and each other, spending more time enjoying one another than arguing or fighting. Of course horns still reflect traffic snarls however I never got the feeling any of it was taken very serously or more importantly, personally.

Ok, we have one more small world story.One night we were invited to join our boat neighbor aboard his Cascade 37, "Bettie", named after the legendary Bettie Page, a 1955 Playboy centerfold and cult figure for her unique lifestyle. The owner/builder, Robert Steadman, it turns out recently retired as a camerman for various feature movies, documentaries and television. Again bringing the circle theory back into the picture, he filmed a "Hawaiian Punch" commercial off Maui twenty some years ago aboard a sailing vessel that Robby was a foredeck crew on. They had a spinnaker rap around the forestay and of course Robby was the man up the mast for over an hour doing the fix. This was a very clear memory for Bob, as the filming couldn't go on until all was secured, he said he was always in awe of "that guy". It also was discovered through half a nights sharing stories and a bottle of rum later that Bob worked with my uncle Del Acevedo on the film, Mussolini, with George C. Scott, 25 years ago. Sure helps to get to know your neighbors, how many times have connections been almost close enough to reach the surface?

We find ourselves doing the Huatulco wait and see, a logical reaction to the effects of the famous Tehuantepec winds. These are essentially tradewinds which flow across the Carribean and arrive at a thin isthmus of land separating it from the Pacific. Mountains on the north and south sides funnel these winds and form a venturi which often doubles the speeds. It is said there are an average of 150 days per year with gale force winds here, that sounds like just about every other day. One stays in "this last of Mexican marina/resorts" hoping the winds drop below gale force and allow safe crossings to the southern most border of Mexico at Puerto Madero. Many a story circulates around about those more self enlightened sailors and boaters that decided to ignore the local folks' warnings of not attempting to cross when it isn't the "right time". Although we are looking forward to some wind and sailing again, we are not going to ignore the advice of so many that have gone before us. We planned our departure, as the reports predicted the winds diminishing to the 15-20 knot range, for the morning of December 30.

Robby met a young man from Argentina that was introduced to him by Enrique, the harbor master. Adrian was following his dream of some day sailing abroad on a boat, "The Dream" has now taken on another dreamer. Although he never spent any time on boats, sail or power, Robby was willing to give him an opportunity to cruise to Panama with us. The obvious benefit to us heading further south into Central America is Adrian's first language is Spanish, and he speaks better English than our Spanish. Everyone is ready to learn. After only a day or so, he was able to stand his own watches like the rest of us, we then were "on for two", "off for six", that really made for a relaxing cruise.

As we planned, we tossed the docklines and headed out of Marina Chahue a little before sunrise. . In the afternoon we were confronted with the beginnings of the Tehuantepec winds, on the nose. We tacked and motorsailed in close to shore which afforded us some protection from the larger swell which was building offshore, however the going got slower and slower until it was backward, yes we actually were getting pushed by current and waves, in the wrong direction. For 5 or 6 hours we were only able to make 2 or 3 miles headway. This was pretty disgusting, but what is a gentleman to do, but invent the sailor's dictionary of cuss words and keep trying. Trying is very "trying" at times. Sometime before midnight we got our speed up to about 2 knots and crept by the last harbor of safe refuge for next 175 miles. Later that night we were finally able to sail without the motor as the winds allowed us to. The windspeed was increasing in gusts but averaged around 20 to 30 knots. By 3am it was gusting to 35-40 knots and we adjusted by shortening the roller headsail to less than double reefed (about the size of a beach towel) and flew across the famous Gulf of Tehuantepec. By sunrise on the final day of 2004 we were approaching the eastern shore with the winds clocking more around the stern of our vessel increasing our speed and comfort levels. We spent the rest of the day cruising Southeast along the final stretches of beach of southern Mexico.

We spent the next day cruising by much of the Guatemalan Coast, stopping only at sunset in the military/industrial port of Quetzal for fuel. Large cone volcanoes rose in the distance offering a surreal backdrop for this rather typical "uncruiser like" port. We fueled and headed out as early as possible, making our way to the waters off El Salvador. We continued Southeast along the coast, staying close in the daytime and heading a bit further offshore at night to ease any navigation anxiety. When we passed El Salvador we made a direct course to Costa Rica, staying 50 to 70 miles offshore of Honduras and Nicaragua. We did find ample wind, blowing offshore from the Gulf of Fonseca and the Gulf of Papagayo. The conditions were a bit rough at times with seas climbing over ten feet and winds in the 40 knot plus range for a day and a half. The Swan 43 handled the condtions beautifully, Robby was happy we were sailing and not motoring.

We made an overnight stop in Los Suenos, Costa Rica, finding a very luxurious marina resort. Ecotourism and sportfishing were the big draws for the yachts that filled their marina to capacity. We headed out the next morning making our way to a smaller yet wonderfully quaint coastal town of Quepos a daysail away. Although no marina facilities were there beyond an ancient wharf and floating dock, the ecclectic town with its mix of "ticas" (the local Costa Ricans) and the various other international residents made for a fun place to visit.

Our last stop before Panama was another great spot in Costa Rica, Gulfito. A small fishing village located about 15 miles up a bay and estuary, Gulfito sported a couple of small marinas with a yacht/fishing club, fuel dock, restaurant and a small village with a variety of local markets and restaurants with mostly local "ticas". We were met by very friendly and helpful folks during our time in Costa Rica, it was a shame we were on a time schedule to deliver "The Dream" to Panama.

Our final leg of the journey brought us around a large peninsula with a foreboding point with an interesting name, Punta Mala, Spanish for "bad point". Only after fighting wind, seas and a current against us running over 4 knots did I christen it with my own name for it: Punta Mala Cula, or "Bad Ass Point". In three watches, two hours each, we made just over 8 miles over ground, while covering nearly 20 miles through the water. As we were taken further offshore attempting to round this point we found that we were being pulled into the "shipping lanes", concentrating all those ships to and from the Pacific that are transiting the canal. We were really on top of our "watches" that last night of our nearly 40 days at sea. Throughout the next day we inched our way upwind attempting to make Balboa, at the entrance to the canal, before dark. Once again as the light dwindled we made our way past scores of vessels, mostly tankers and freighters at anchor awaiting their turns to transit to the Carribean. We were soon greeted by the owner, Peter Noakes, and his illustrious crew, all "Brits" a fun group of ecclectic sailors. They would be taking over for the transit in the canal and then further on to Jamaica.

Robby, Mike, Adrian and me were invited to come along as passengers to enjoy one of the worlds great boat rides, "The Canal".
It takes a couple of days to take measurements, inspect paperwork, get the permission to transit, be scheduled, list crew and linehandlers, all with the help of an agent. Ours was a perky young woman with unbridled energy by the name of Tina McBride, she got us extra fender/tires and long docklines and made sure everything ran as planned, including a taxi ride back to Balboa from Colon with one of her trusted drivers. He was good enough to wait for us even as we soaked up a few beers with dinner at the Panama Canal Yacht Club at 930 at night!

Our trip through the canal took a total of two days. This is necessary for slower yachts, cruising at less than 8 knots, as the distance from the MiraFlores Locks to the Gatun Locks is too great to cover in one day. We were offered moorage in Lake Gatun where we spent the night and waited most of the next day for scheduling out of the last three locks that would again bring us down to sea level. Having survived a couple of close calls in the large locks with even larger currents and surges, "The Dream" successfully completed her mission, and Captain Robby Buck had to find more paper and bindings for his resume.

The "Dream" and her new crew carried on sailing off to Jamaica, last heard, they made it, although they had large seas and high winds "on the nose" for six days enroute.

The “Dream” has been rechristened “Chastanet”, which was her original name after being launched. She is owned by an English family and cruises the coast of France in the spring, summer and fall.