Crossing Panama

Chapter 8: Crossing my mind.

A new job in California was one of the projects I worked on, I even contacted one law office not too far from where I went to college, I think my grandfather or great grandfather worked there many decades ago.

They immediately overnighted benefits info to me at home, then invited me to visit them for an interview next weekend. After I accepted their offer (and airfare) they called for my flight details to arrange a limo to meet me at the LAX baggage claim. My ticket was for a flight on Southwest to fly out in twelve days for my Saturday morning interview. The flight departed here at 5am and should be back on the ground in Florida by 7pm, they'd handle my transport there. For this flight I'd have to use the airport over in Tampa.

I seriously considered their offer but with over six million in the bank I was in no hurry and wanted to take some time off work, but I didn't know the best way to specify that during negotiations, what I needed was the advice of a professional, or a wise relative, but mine were already buried and gone. My dad was a lawyer too and so were his dad and his grandfather.

I considered telling them I had a boat to sail around North America, which would delay my arrival. I wasn't sure if that discussion during job and pay negotiations would work against me or not. I didn't know much about my great grandfather but he's buried in Los Angeles, he practiced law there in the early 1900s. It's possible he worked for them back then, but I'll let them bring it up.

Most of the people that were alive to shake my great grandfather's hand back then would be gone too or just over 100 years old.

I focused on work all week and didn't sleep on the boat but I did locate the 'dinghy of my dreams.' It was heavy duty black rubber (like they used for rafting on the Colorado River) and had a (very lightweight and small) three horsepower Honda outboard and a two gallon steel gas tank. The raft had a wood deck and transom that were stained and sealed, it was reinforced where the motor mounted and had straps to secure the gas tank, and loops for oars too. The little boat could carry three adults (four if they were smaller adults) and it actually looked pretty neat, which was why I 'accidentally' ordered one. The colors of the stained deck and transom, and the Honda outboard looked really neat together. I couldn't resist, I know that sounds pathetic, doesn't it? And when I say I 'accidentally' ordered it I meant I was probably legally (very) intoxicated when I clicked on: .

That rubber raft had cleats for hanging it from davits or towing it behind. Most boats at the marina stored theirs upside down, strapped to their cabin roof. I considered deflating and folding it and stuffing it in a stern tank designed for filling with water and ice for holding vast amounts of fresh fish. I thought the small Honda motor might fit in one of the fish tanks too, so it didn't disappear late at night. That dinghy cost me $1700 with delivery. The motor was supposed to be ready to run, just fill the tank, prime it and pull the starter cord. When it arrived the boxes sat in the hallway outside my door. I had to order the fuel tank separately because it was out of stock. I didn't realize it was going to be that heavy until I tried to move them into my apartment, so I cut down the boxes in the hallway and carried the pieces down the elevator to my car.

I also ordered another anchor and chain from a marine supply place down the street from the marina. He said two of them would hold a forty footer off the beach even in a decent surf and they came with a guarantee, so I bought two. Tim said people used them for tropical storms and described how they're used for boats left in the water during hurricanes. He said a big part of how people protected their boats was to keep them in place during the storm, using special storm anchors (and knowing how to place them).

With our Bristol sailboats when a strong storm approached we had to completely remove the canvas covers and tie down the tubular frames or they'd be destroyed. It was possible to collapse them and strap them against the windshield frame or all the way down on the back deck, but removing them never failed, but it was time consuming unless you had an able bodied assistant.

If you were very wealthy you could have them lift the entire boat out of the water, set it on a large-heavy timber frame, tightly wrapped it in shrink-wrap plastic and stored in one of their parking lots, that service cost about four thousand bucks and had to be ordered almost a week ahead of the storm.

At the north end of the harbor sat the really big yachts that were all over 140 feet long, when they big storms approached they had their crew take them out on the Gulf and come back after the storm had passed.

The week the dinghy arrived I discovered I had a pier storage box. Each slip had one, I saw them but assumed they were purchased. They were a large white fiberglass box with a locking hinged lid used for storage of outdoor items on the decks of party boats. It was like a super big trunk. I asked at the marina office if I had one and he looked up the number and got me the key, I'd been paying rent on it all along but never knew it! I decided to put my dinghy, motor, and air pump in the box instead of on the boat. Tim helped me carry it to the pier, they were too heavy for my bag lady cart.

The days sailed by and I flew back to Miami again to interview fifty more people at the same hotel meeting room then flew back home Thursday evening. Friday night I packed for my early morning flight to LAX to meet the driver from the law office for my interview. We video interviewed over Skype last month. The flight wasn't bad but it's the hours of lines and security theater bullshit before flying that ruined it for me. The flight from Tampa to LAX was five hours. I didn't mind flying but I hated airports and all the rude or intoxicated people.

I gotta say, if you can't make it to the airport sober then in my opinion you got no business flying or going out in public. I took a nap on the plane, about three hours.

The uniformed driver met me near the baggage claim holding a sign that said 'DARROW,' I pointed at it and told him 'That's me!' We walked to his limo and he drove me to the office.

My interview lasted ninety minutes and went very well. They were interested in my successes with class action suits but I couldn't offer much detail about my current project. I told them at this time I was the only attorney at the practice working the case along with two paralegals and one private investigator. When they asked what the potential settlement was I told them it could go as high as nine digits, and about thirty present and former cops would likely end up in federal prison.

They were also pleased I was actually born in Los Angeles and a UCLA grad, with distinguished honors in my class. I'd listed autism (HFA) on my resume and one of them noticed the thing I did with my fingers and asked about it but I explained I was mostly unaware I was doing it, but it seemed to help during cross examination because some witnesses and opposing attorneys found it very distracting. They both laughed loudly because it worked on them too. I assured them I was quiet and work focused but not highly social. My IQ was 180 and my health was perfect. I told them I graduated with my JD from UCLA magna cum laude. He said they already looked me up and asked about my great grandfather, I told them he was buried a long time before I was born. I think their primary interest in me was that I had a nose for large and profitable class-action suits which was something they were eager to invest in.

On the way out the front door I saw a large black and white framed portrait of my great grandfather on the wall in their lobby.

Within 30 minutes of the end of my interview I was back at LAX standing in line at the TSA to catch my flight back to Tampa.

After I got back from LAX I found a catalog in my mailbox from the company I emailed last week that made custom bedding, from sheets to pillow cases, bed spreads, and blankets. I called them and was instructed to closely measure my mattress and shoot video while I measured it. Once they had the dimensions and the video they could machine make anything I wanted for that mattress, she said they did custom fits for yachts and RVs all the time. I added that to my list of crap to get done soon.

She asked me to shoot the video with the mattress on its frame, 'don't take the mattress outside to film the measurements.' Shoot the video with the mattress where it normally sat so they could see how it was used, where people slid off and how bedding was tucked-in. It was starting to sound like a two-person video production but I could possibly do it myself with the cell camera. Maybe I could get Tim to operate the camera while I worked the tape measure and narrated the video.

The harbor master also gave me the new keys to my cabin door, the guy finally replaced the lock with a better one that took the same size key as my apartment door.

Carlo and I texted about twice a day but we had a few days of radio silence, which always bothered me. I asked him about taking a longer trip but he never replied. He told me on days when he's had a rough time with rude customers or angry employees he didn't like to talk to people after work because he doubted he could hide his feelings.

Reading between the lines in his texts it sounded like the single biggest problem he dealt with on a daily basis was his father's worsening dementia and his disruptive behavior at the tire shop. It sounded like he was turning into a business liability and a significant problem for his employees. The way he explained it the only reason they took his father to the tire store was he couldn't be alone anymore because he'd wander off and get into trouble.

Monday, two weeks after Key West.

I was told about flying to Miami for two days this week, Wednesday and Thursday. I told them I would never spend the weekend there (waiting to see people on Monday morning) which upset the head dude. You're not supposed to tell the guy whose name was on the sign outside that you won't do something. Firing me would be risky for them, they knew about my autism and I've never been a behavior problem although I got criticized for being quiet and not going to NASCAR events with the rest of the 'team.' Sorry, but I found NASCAR about as interesting as the 'Arena Football League'. What's so appealing about watching rich people driving expensive cars around a track? I didn't get it. I suggested they give my NASCAR ticket to one of my paralegals.

I told them they needed to consolidate all my appointments into two days per week and I would fly down for those two days.

We're hoping to be done with interviews and have a preliminary hearing before a judge, discovery in January, and go to trial next summer. At some point I knew they'd tell me to rent an apartment and open an office there but I'd refuse. I was the only lawyer on this case, me and (now) two paralegals. I kept having mental images of myself typing a resignation letter and emailing it to the HR office and Fedexing all my notes to them on a DVD. I really wished I had someone to go to for advice.

Miami had turned into an every-other-week thing but I was sure it was soon going to be every week. That did not make me happy as the reality of this enormous case really hit home in my brain. Maybe I wasn't prepared for a class action this large. My employers saw a big money reward, I saw my life slipping by. Every possible person we added to the class raised the potential settlement by $500k at least. We wasted a lot of time on people that had no case against the cops. So sorry. I could go on.

The crap I've heard and been subjected to almost wasn't worth the money. And this entire case was all about money and greed and hatred of our fellow man. It's hard not to get angry or depressed listening to poor uneducated folks tell their horror stories and listen to the police lie. We had video of innocent unarmed women being beat for refusing to be a slave. We had video of over two hundred of those beatings. Some of them went to the hospital, usually with head injuries: broken nose, fractured jaw, fractured facial bones and teeth, concussion, bruising, and facial cuts: all supposedly related to slipping on a wet floor. The guards in those videos were the ones likely to spend time in federal prison. One of them already hung himself.

Friday.

My new bedding should be here next week, I ordered the softest cotton they had and extra strong elastic banding so the sheet wouldn't come off the corners during enthusiastic sex. They advertised Egyptian cotton but when I asked where it was grown she said it came from Mississippi. I thought to myself that its dishonest claims like those that made decent people like Carlo distrust lawyers and ads on TV and radio.

It took all of my self control to not mention sex on the phone when I ordered, I wrote myself a Post-It note and stuck it on the computer screen while I was ordering five sheet sets. Their catalog showed the computerized machines that cut the material but the sewing was hand guided on very old industrial sewing machines. But bedding coming off the mattress during sex was an annoyance I was hoping to be rid of by paying more for quality.

Up till now I'd been using the largest king size sheets I could find and tucking them in tightly under the mattress but by the time morning arrived the sheets often looked like someone had been wrestling alligators in bed.

Tim and I measured and video recorded all four beds then ordered sheets for every bed inside Susan. So that concluded the bedding issue as long as I never sailed where it got cold or spilled anything on the bed. I've had visions of sailing on the Pacific someday but most of the decent destinations were very far from L.A. The Caribbean would be easier and the Gulf too, but there's a lot of commercial shipping and bad storms on them. When was the last time you heard of a typhoon hitting California?

Tim told me my extra five feet of cabin space made a huge difference between our two Bristol sailboats. I admitted to him that sometimes I wished I had purchased a regular motorized ocean cruiser instead of a sail powered boat.

And speaking of commercial shipping near Tampa Bay I read an interesting article about a wood processing plant in Mississippi that took harvested trees by the thousands and converted them into wood pellets to send by the shipload to a nuclear power plant in the UK as their primary fuel for back-up and peak demand supply.

A pellet was about the same size as a pencil eraser. Who wouldda thought a nuke plant in the UK would be burning wood pellets made from junk trees in Alabama and Arkansas. They used wood scrap of every sort to make pellets by the train car load, all day and all night, all year long. If you tore down a house or an old barn in Arkansas they'd come get the wood for free now. And those states grew trees faster than Indiana grew corn. They received semi truck loads of trees and rail car loads too. If one area had tornado damage the trucks would arrive and haul the downed trees to this plant that converted all of it to wood pellets. Their production of pellets from certain hardwoods was used in expensive meat smokers in the States. Some of the pellet hauling ships accounted for traffic out on the Gulf, some of the distant lights we saw on the gulf late at night heading north or south.

They all sailed by thirty miles west of the entrance to Tampa Bay, I could probably see them go by at night from my apartment with the binoculars.

Ten days after ordering I got a notice (and tracking number) by email that a package from the bedding company was in the mail. I was excited about that.

With my trips to Miami now almost weekly I started keeping a time log. I was doing a study of each segment of the trip on a spreadsheet in my laptop computer. I should explain we usually flew on a smaller regional jet out of Saint Pete but sometimes they were unavailable so we had to use Tampa instead. Either way my employer paid 100% of the cost and tips too.

The log started after I was done packing or after I called for an airport van. The log looked like this but was the same process in both directions.

1. Call for transport. 6:30am

2. Wait for airport van in hotel lobby.

3. Ride in Blue Van, arrive at airport.7:45am

4. Walk across terminal then stand in line at TSA.

5. Walk to gate and wait for boarding.

6. Board and wait for takeoff. 11am

7. Taxi, takeoff, flight, landing, taxi to terminal, wait to de-plane.

8. Walk to baggage claim then request Blue Van to hotel.

9. Wait for Blue Van.1:45pm

10. Ride to hotel.2:30pm

11. Check-in and walk to room and set suitcase on rack. 2:45pm,

total time: 8:15. Because it happened in many places I think few people realized how time consuming flying had become.

I checked the distance and traffic from my condo to the hotel in Miami because it might be 2-4 hours faster to drive instead of flying. MapQuest said it would take four hours to drive the 265 miles. I felt I could reduce that time. Last two times I flew it was six hours thirty minutes door to door.

I gave some thought to leasing a nice motorcycle and a rain suit, I could rent work clothes from the laundry service that could ride in one of the luggage cases on the motorcycle. On the ride home I'd be parking the motorcycle in the basement garage at my condo before I'd even land in Tampa if the weather was decent. And I wouldn't be subjected to all the bullshit at the airport.

At the hotel there was a walled-in loading and freight area behind the hotel. I decided to ask the manager if I could park inside that area so it would be invisible from the street and monitored 24/7.

Saturday.

I invited Carlo over Saturday evening and pre-warned him my apartment was small but it had a great view from the balcony. My apartment was a studio condo, it's basically one large room (20x40). There was a small kitchen in the corner of the room with a refrigerator and a microwave above a two-burner induction stovetop but no oven. I had a sofa, coffee table, three arm chairs, and end tables. Behind the sofa was a folding canvas room divider, behind that was my bed and dresser, to the side of that were the sliding doors that went outside to my eight by four foot balcony with a steel railing and no privacy from the balcony next door (or the ones across the street). The sliding doors were reinforced with a steel tube that ran from floor to ceiling at the middle of the opening. I think it was there to keep the patio door frame from being blown in during a hurricane. Most of the stuff in my apartment was leased (furniture, lamps, accessories).

There were two doors, one to a nice walk-in closet (mine was mostly empty) and the other for the bathroom with stand-up shower, everything was tiled except the ceiling. From my balcony I could see all the way across Tampa Bay through the haze to Apollo Beach. Straight west I could see over thirty miles out onto the Gulf, my balcony was 200 feet above the street. This building had indoor parking, a pool, laundry room, and a small gym. The pool was outside but only got full sunshine in the morning.

This high rise building had withstood two Cat-3 hurricanes and three Cat-1 storms since it opened in 1981. I stayed for the last Cat-1 storm but doubted I would ever do that again. If nothing else it was six hours of incredibly loud roaring wind and feeling the structure tremble and sway. Even the toilet made a horrible sound as it sucked anything down the pipe that would fit.

Carlo arrived tightly holding a hot pizza box on top of a cold twelve pack at 6:52pm. He wore nice shorts and a tight t-shirt that didn't hide much. We sat on the sofa and chairs and had a great supper and drank all the beers. I suspected his choice of shirts was deliberate.

When the pizza was half gone I went to the bathroom and when I came back I walked up to Carlo, he just smiled as I leaned over and pulled his shirt off, then took my place back on the sofa. He gestured to me to pull mine off too, so I did as ordered.

He looked around the room a little. "No TV?" He asked.

I pointed to a small red box on top of one of the kitchen cabinets, "That's a video projector, in the cabinet is a networked DVR so any video I can watch on my cell can be projected on the wall." I pointed at the bare white wall between the bathroom and closet doors. "It gives me a huge picture, but no I don't watch TV." I thought he'd ask why but he didn't. He should have asked.

The sun was about to set and it was slowly getting darker inside. I walked over to the balcony door and shut it and reached under the curtains and pulled down a heavy shade, all the way to the floor that turned the room nearly dark as night. I told him I wanted to show him something.

I grabbed the tiny remote control and turned on the projector and the stereo. Then I selected a short video to play while the projector got up to full brightness, which took a couple minutes. The first video was a 1945 Warner Brothers cartoon, Bugs Bunny in 'Baseball Bugs.' We both laughed the 1940s humor.

By the end of the cartoon baseball game against the Gas House Gorillas it was darker outside and inside, next I played the video I made of him showering in the moonlight on the back deck and played it to music, the video ran in slow motion. I used iMovie to edit it into a six minute video, all the best segments of his moonlight shower on the Gulf, my extreme close-ups of his body, and us making out at the big chrome wheel.

Most of it looked like it was in slow motion, I also added music, the song Through My Eyes, by Liquid Mind, because it was only 19 seconds longer than the video and had a similar pace.

He moved closer to me but I got up and carried the empty pizza box to the kitchen counter and brought two more beers. I'd had them in the freezer so they were almost too cold to hold.

When I edited the scenes together it looked like a three camera shot, and in slow motion it was very erotic. I enhanced some of the video to make his boy parts more visible to show their detail, and his limp dick hung in the moonlight, I made it look very large. Carlo whispered that he'd never been turned on by himself before.

"Holy cow, look at that thing. If I didn't know it was mine I'd want to spend some time with it. Too bad mine isn't that big." He offered.

"Hold on a second there partner, you've never been fucked by your dick. Let me say as someone that has a few times, it ain't no breakfast sausage! It's a lot bigger than you realize." I said disagreeing with him. Carlo looked in my eyes but never said anything more about it.

I reached over and moved his hand off his crotch and rubbed it firmly. We played the video twice and during it we kicked our legs up on the table and jerked off to the video. The close-up of his belly button made an image on the wall that was three feet across, that made him chuckle and grabbed my hand and used it to stroke his.

Since we were both intoxicated and horny we talked and grab-assed for a little longer. We got closer and made out for a while then I took his hand and lead him to my 'salon de sexe.'

We fucked for two hours non-stop that night. He acted very aggressive for the first half, which was mostly him in charge. I got two loads of Carlo semen that night. I think I gave him a faint hickey on his chest but I could apologize for it tomorrow if it was visible. I came on his chest, neck, and stomach. Afterward, we stood in my shower, slow dancing in a steamy embrace. We hand washed each other slowly over half an hour. The condo had a central hot water system so it never ran out, it came in handy that night.

As we were getting ready to go to sleep he told me some good news, "Oh hey that reminds me, I brought you something. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled post-it note that had a name, phone number, and email address. He said this guy made custom canvas covers for boats and RVs of all sizes, he could build you a new cover for the back deck, one with windows and buttons on the bottom or whatever you want." I thanked him and set it on my dresser.

Sunday.

Sunday morning we walked over to Waffle House for breakfast then he summoned a ride, even after I offered to drop him off anywhere he wanted. I still had no idea where he lived, other than somewhere north of here. He explained he lived at his parents place in the Village of Lake Tarpon about twelve miles north of here, it's a mobile home park for people over 55, he had to sneak in and out. Their tire store was on Highway 19 at Alderman Road, about five blocks from home. I told him not to worry I would never appear at either location. He looked in my eyes as if thinking to himself: Then why do you need to know where I live?

It sounded like anytime he appeared in the neighborhood eyes were watching and taking notes. His secrecy was born out of fear of his father and their unfortunate interdependence.

Now we both knew where each other lived, except I didn't know his address and he's been inside my home and on my boat. I promised him I would never cause a problem for him, but at breakfast he seemed upset and unusually quiet. That upset me because being blind to most people expressions I was worried I hurt his feelings by something blunt I said during normal guy talk.

I watched them drive away from the Waffle House parking lot. I walked home and rode the elevator up to the 20th floor where all the apartments were studio size. After looking over my lists of stuff I needed for the boat and home I decided to get into lawyer brain mode so I made some coffee and put my chair back outside on the balcony to spend the rest of the day reading and researching. I think the worst part of this case was knowing how far off my next bonus check was. Some of the partners thought my regular pay was enough, along with a great benefits package. Junior partners usually made a base salary around $200k a year but we also earned bonuses and sometimes cash bonuses they called gifts. At their Christmas party the head guy usually walked around handing out bank teller envelopes of cash (off the books). Last Christmas we all got $8k in unreported cash, fifties and hundreds.

The senior partners, the original investors in the practice stood to make millions if my case settled the way the actuaries calculated it would. That's one of the things I didn't like about the law business, it tended to attract people that were in it for the money and not justice. That was one of the reasons why I kept my office door shut during the day. I simply wanted to remain isolated from cash crazy people, I wasn't one of them. The ironic part was I was a better lawyer than most of them and probably had more in the bank too. I also closed my door because of the distracting noises.

One of my spies at work told me that those money obsessed coworkers of mine acted the same way at NASCAR events too. They all knew what the drivers earned, what their cars cost, their net worth, where they invested, what brands they owned, and who represented them in court.

For a while I sat on my balcony thinking about last night in bed with Carlo. I had my tongue on almost every square inch of his body (front side) from his balls to his ear lobes. It was rather odd sitting in a restaurant booth across from a young man that I tasted all over then hours later we were seated at a table, waiting for our breakfast and acting outwardly like nothing had happened. If I ever wrote a book about the best sex in my life, last night would easily be two chapters long. I've not seen him work as hard as he did last night, it was like he had lots of pent-up anger to work off.

Our time last night was sweaty, loud, a little rough, a little painful, and very intense. My dick swelled so tight it ached. My favorite position was with me on my back (knees up to my chest), and him fucking me on top so I could watch his muscles work, see the expressions on his face, and enjoy watching his wonderful body working hard by candle light. It would be really neat to have a tiny, ultra wide angle, low light camera to record him fucking me, as seen from my perspective.

As someone with autism I always quietly relied on people around me to see how to act in social situations, this morning he acted like last night never happened. After our food arrived he never noticed I carefully sculpted my hardboiled eggs into shapes like the head of his dick. He didn't notice me cut my pancake into the shape of his boner. And he never noticed when I used my fork to drag drops of coffee creamer across my plate so it looked like a shot of his semen coming out of the dick shaped pancake.

I sighed and went back to reading appellate decisions in Florida involving physical abuse by police and state employees.

The fact that he seemed disinterested in autism made me wonder if he didn't notice or maybe he didn't care or maybe he just didn't get it. Either way the potential for it to become a festering problem between us was very real, that scared me because I'm close to loving him and I've lost friends in the past over my behavior. Maybe he was distant at the restaurant because it was very distracting and loud: 50 people talking loudly, mouthy waitresses, dishes clanking, and delicious smells. I think it was knowing he had to go home to the shit show at his parent's house for the rest day that made him sad. He described home as arguing, yelling, confusion, and general disharmony.

His father had turned into a man-size toddler that had to be constantly watched. He was constantly trying to escape because he thought all the women in Florida craved his body so he was obligated to lower the front of his Depends and offer himself to every woman he saw.

Weeks went by, I exchanged dozens of texts with Carlo but he was busy with his life at the family business. During that time I received a (printed) detailed formal job offer from the practice in Marina Del Rey, it took a while but I was able to negotiate a much delayed start date, too bad I had nobody to celebrate with.

Employment contracts were common in the practice of law, I told them I was under contract and couldn't move for a while but they still accepted my terms.

Today was Friday August 31st, I stipulated that I couldn't show up in LA until late March, 2019, maybe a start date of 4/1/19.

Another complication was my lease at the marina expired on December 31st, my homeowners insurance ran out on January 10th, 2019, and my yacht club dues expired on New Year's Eve. I decided to stay here until early February and bank as much money as I could and get my boat ready for the big trip. I had to contact all those services to try to purchase another month or two of service.

My alternative to sailing to the west coast was to road transport Susan on a special truck. She would have the mast removed and everything that stuck up above the deck. They would brace it (internally) and set it on its side on a special flatbed semi. Then with four safety vehicles it would fit under the overpasses on I-10 as they drove it to California, set it back in the water and re-assembled it. The cost to haul it on land would be nearly $67,000. The actual cost to sail it to LA would be around $8,000 if I didn't include upgrades (many of those were done already).

I could afford the move but it would have lingering bad effects on Susan, her hull, and exterior surfaces. My options came down to selling or sailing.

There were also boat transport companies that could move her, but they cost half of what I paid for Susan and had a ten month waiting list. Those companies used special transport ships for hauling boats. Their ship partially (a semi-submersible) sunk then they sailed boats on the deck and delivered them anywhere in the world, but those services were primarily for the super wealthy.

I called the custom canvas guy that Carlo turned me onto and he said he would come see the boat and measure it and give me an estimate for an entirely new top with one-piece curtain sides. I texted him photos of the back end so I'd be sure he measured the right boat.

Like always I had to explain where the name Susan came from, but at least now I knew the entire story. All I didn't know was where she was buried. At one point I actually considered just removing that name and leaving the back end blank.

I bought a used book on Amazon about sailing across Panama, one of those 'For Idiots' books. The problem was it cited costs and procedures from 2008. One of the things I learned from the book was there were towns along the canal, places I could refill provisions, fuel, charge batteries, fill up the water tank, and maybe get some sleep if I couldn't make it across non-stop. That book was written before construction started on the new Panama Canal. The single biggest problem with Susan was she was not designed to sail that far on battery or diesel engine power.

After the electrical repairs were done I had no idea how far she could sail on battery power that was a priority task for me to accomplish as soon as I could. My plan was to sail west on the Gulf on battery power (sails down), when the prop stopped spinning due to low voltage I'd raise the sails and head for home. I knew the canal was about 52 miles long with one place (12 miles across the lake) I could possibly raise one sail, so I might only need battery power for 40 miles. Gatun Lake would be the only place I might be able to raise the main sail, assuming the wind always came from a good direction. The rest of the canal was narrow waterway where sails were not allowed and possibly dangerous to use.

Ten minutes later I was online looking at the nautical map company web site again and ordered their two map series on the Panama Canal and around Columbia, Panama, Costa Rica and their islands.

A week later in my email I found the estimate for the new cover for my boat. He said it would take a week to make and install. They'd measure and make then deliver and install then remove and make adjustments, mark spots to install buttons and finish the bottom of the side panels. The sides would roll up and stay with velcro straps (no more zippers). He said it would look very similar to the existing top, except with three rolled-up side panels and they would use the existing aluminum tubular frame.

We discussed windows and ports for ropes or cables, etc. I made a down payment of two thousand, final payment due upon completion which would be a few thousand more. We agreed on materials and colors and I gave him permission to get started. I had to email the harbor master to tell him their crew would be on Susan a few times.

The estimate said the primary difference between the new cover and the old one was the new side panels would roll-up but not be removable. He said the cover would last longer without zippers. He said the velcro strips were sewn in place and could be replaced when they eventually wore out.

Once they started they removed the old cover, he said it looked to be around ten years old and due for replacement. It took them four hours to accurately measure for a new cover on the existing support poles. He said his company could replace them if they were damaged.

The guy texted me a photo of Susan with the old cover completely removed, I'd never seen the back deck wide open like that in full sunshine. They took the old cover with them to the shop. He said they used it for measurements but after completion we could donate it to be used for a children's theater group, the canvas was used for making stage backgrounds.

Seven days later the new canvas was installed with the sidewalls rolled up and velcro'd in place. That weekend I spent with Susan and took photos of it and sent one to Carlo, thanked him for telling me about that company. The canvas shop was a family operation; husband, wife, and 22 year old daughter. After the job was done he emailed me an estimate for re-covering all my back deck cushions should I decide to do that this year.

Most of the canvas roof was seven feet above the deck, lower in the front. The new side panels had heavy clear plastic windows that went down to one foot above the railing. That would provide good visibility and offer more privacy for late night boner parties on the back deck when the sides were down.

I worked four hours on Saturday (6-10), it was my turn to answer the 800 number but the only calls that came in were from criminals trying to convince me sell my house or buy an extended warranty for my car.

They had the phone system set to forward incoming calls to my phone for those hours, then it automatically stopped.

At 10am I took Susan out for the much needed battery test. Using the floating ball tester I checked every cell on every deep cycle battery, all six of them were fully charged. I put Susan into charge by sun mode and sailed her out, with sails stowed and covered, across the bay and out onto the ocean. It was a very high tide so I sailed on the north side of Passage Key because I didn't have anyone to stand on the bow with the horn so we didn't run over any drunks or dogs swimming across the passage. I could tell the tide was way up because Passage Key was a fraction the normal size.

We sailed west with my GPS counting the miles. I needed to see exactly how far we could go on battery power at six miles an hour, about 55% throttle on the DC motor. After we cleared the pass I went below and propped up the captain's bunk so I had easy access to check the batteries. It had two wood rods on hinges underneath it to hold it up like the lid of a piano.

The engineer said I'd need two more batteries added (8 total) to cross Panama on battery power at 6mph, this trip was a test of his calculations. I wasn't sure if he included the power supplied by the new solar panels and the repaired wind generator or not. All combined they made about 10 amps in direct sunlight and a 12mph wind. But 10 amps at 13.8 volts DC into a ten horse power DC motor driving a two foot wide propeller probably didn't add much oomph.

I stood at the helm in my shorts and polo shirt after we cleared the bay and stared out on the Gulf, it was nothing but blue sky, ocean, and a few clouds ahead of us. I wished Carlo was here to add something nice to look at with his big boy butt. I closed my eyes and imagined he was here walking around in his sunglasses with no clothes on. Thinking about him left me longing and slightly erect.

Sailing west I wondered how long it took the canal locks to raise a boat 90 feet to lake level, My guess was it would take over an hour on each end of the canal, just to move up and down. That put the time to cross the canal, non-stop, 6mph, around eleven hours.

The book said it took ten hours but I think that was timed from first gate to last gate but not including the bays and waterways, that's why I added another hour or two.

Once I arrived and dropped anchor in Colon then went ashore and paid to cross I might sit there for a week waiting to cross with a group of smaller boats. After leaving the last lock I'd have to sail about five miles further to the Naos Island Marina on the Pacific side and rent a slip for a night or two, then go somewhere for supplies (ice, water, fresh food) while Susan sat plugged-in and charging. I might end up staying two nights if it took that long to fully charge the batteries. Because after leaving Naos Island its three days to the next large port up in Costa Rica.

Something else crossed my mind, when I left Cozumel there's no plug-in power all the way to Naos Island, so when I arrived in Colon to wait to cross Panama I couldn't use DC power or the engine because I may need every ounce of energy just to cross. I'm going to need disposable tank butane or propane lanterns and flashlights for lighting while I wait to cross, it's possible I could wait there for a week with no shore power or water. I made a mental note to add disposable tank fuel and a lantern to my list of supplies, and enough not only for Panama but the rest of the trip in case the DC supply failed at sea for some unknown reason.

Running a gas powered lantern added a small element of risk for fire and extra heat inside the cabin. It'll be hot and humid in Panama, its only eight degrees north of the equator.

I also considered Malaria and biting insects and wondered if they flew out over the bay for someone to bite.

I could flush the toilet with a bucket of sea water, but I bet in a sheltered bay with dozens of boats at anchor that the water wouldn't be very clean. How was I going to bathe or clean myself at anchor in Limon Bay?

At 5:03pm the boat shuddered oddly, the DC motor beeped loudly and stopped turning. I went below and checked the battery meter, it showed we were out of power and the motor had to shut off to protect itself from low voltage. I checked one battery cell and noticed all six batteries were hot and showed all four balls sunk, all the batteries were dead. Double checking I saw the switch was up for solar charge. Back on deck I ran up front and raised the main sail then slowly turned us around.

After aiming us back towards land I opened the floor hatch to check for smoke or bad smells below deck, but all I smelled was the normal scent of a hot electric motor. It always smelled like that after long periods of use.

We made our way back towards the skyway bridge at 5mph. The GPS said we sailed 45.6 miles at 5-6mph on battery power. Now I had to sail home but hopefully we'd get enough of a wind charge on the way that I could motor across the harbor on battery power. I was thirty miles west of the Skyway bridge, it was too far away to see at this distance.

I sailed through the alternate passage at 10:15pm but stayed on sail power until I was less than one mile from the harbor. I started the motor and lowered the sail and motored home powered by the diesel engine and generator. Back at home I emailed the electrical guy to schedule an appointment for the last two batteries to be installed and asked if they could do it where I parked in the harbor (because their shop was practically next door to the harbor). I also asked if the battery charger was big enough after adding two more deep cycle batteries.

That evening I emailed Carlo and told him about my test run and plans but I never heard back.

'Panama Canal for Idiots'

That night I went to bed with the Panama Canal for Idiots book again to finish the last four chapters. The book said you were not required to cross within any specific timeframe but if you stayed more than a few days they'd come looking. The book said some of the canal area businesses were run by organized crime but if you stayed on your boat and sailed across non-stop the chances of something bad happening to you were almost non-existent. It also said there was a minimum speed limit of 10mph but Susan (and most sailboats) wouldn't go that fast on battery power. The more I read it sounded like that speed mostly applied to commercial ships. They ran sailboats across in large groups and different rules applied on sailboat days.

The book said the canal normally ran one direction at a time. But on small craft day they ran two directions simultaneously. The small boats had to wait in groups on either end until there were enough waiting to stop the big ships and let the smaller ones cross, usually once or twice a week. I think smaller meant under 200 feet long and 20 feet wide. Susan was 12 feet wide and 56 feet long overall (40 along the water line).

The (2009) book had a great basic description of the Canal Zone with an easy to understand summary. Here's what it said:

The canal had cities on either end. On the Pacific end sat Panama City, a large city that looked a lot like Hong Kong, it looked very modern and beautiful (from a distance). On the Atlantic side was Colon (sitting beside Limon Bay). It looked like a small port city from the era of steam power, with narrow brick streets. Near the middle was Gamboa, a small town that looked like it was stuck in the 1910s. The other two towns on Gatun Lake were now under sixty feet of water after construction of the dams that raised the lake to 90ft ASL one hundred years ago.

They strongly suggested no swimming in Gatun Lake, there were creatures in there you didn't want to mess around with and the problem of cargo ships discharging un-treated toilet waste into the lake.

Between the dams the lake was surrounded by dense jungle where it rained heavily 270 days a year. It was a great place to catch Malaria and Dengue so stay on board your boat and don't stop moving. Stay within the marked route across the lake.

In the middle of the country was the (American) man-made lake called Gatun. It sat about 90 feet above the ocean. Each canal end had three locks, each lock lifted boats about thirty feet.

On the east (north) side sat the Gatun Locks, they were about ten miles in from the sea. There was a long man-made canal from the sea to the locks. After the Gatun locks you crossed Gatun Lake. After the lake you entered the man-made Chagres River and passed the town of Gamboa. The Chagres River took you through the Culebra Cut to the Pedro Miguel Locks.

On the west (south) side the locks were divided into two areas. At the end of the Chagres River were the two Pedro Miguel locks. Then you crossed a small lake to the single Mira Flores lock. After the last lock you sailed across a busy waterway for five miles which widened out onto Panama Bay, continuing 100 more miles south and you were on the Pacific Ocean.

Roughly speaking, it was 52 miles across including the Limon Bay area.

Panama City was not at the west end of the canal but it was close. They didn't want Panama City to be near the canal in case the gates failed and Gatun Lake emptied down the canal. Colon was at the end of the canal because it was there before the canal was built. Colon was there because before the canal they used to unload ships in the harbor and transport their cargo across Panama by train then re-load them on the other side onto ships to continue on their way. Mexico did the same thing, and still did. They competed with Panama by shipping cargo across the Isthmus of Mexico cheaper than you could cross the canal. They shipped across the narrow point by train from the commercial port at Coatzacoalcos, straight south to the deep water port at Salina Cruz.

Both ends of the Panama Canal were protected bays where all boats dropped anchor to wait for their turn to cross. Crossing was very expensive, canal fees funded the operation of the country of Panama. Even for a small sailboat it cost thousands of dollars to cross in a group of small boats. Despite that the USA no longer owned the canal you could see the country of Panama was basically a suburb of Washington, DC, and was closely watched by the CIA for anything that might compete with their money making enterprises.

Panama built new locks for Post-Panamax size cargo and military ships, they opened in 2019. But the old locks were still busy 24/7. The new locks were built close to the originals and used the same waterway but it was dredged deeper and wider.

The book said eventually Panama may have to curtail canal traffic due to insufficient water in the lake. The more they cut down trees in the mountains the less rain fell during the dry season, or so it appeared. Panama had another serious interest in Gatun Lake because it was the fresh water supply for Panama City, back when the canal first opened it was the largest man-made lake on Earth.

Gatun was the name of a small town by the locks but nobody knows where the name came from, and some scientists believe the natural bowl where the lake sits was formed by a meteor impact.

There were constant rumors of China digging a canal across Nicaragua. There was already a river that went most of the way across that country but the narrow mountain range along the west coast was the primary barrier. With a Kayak you could probably paddle across with only a short segment to portage. I would expect that if China ever dug a canal it would be ocean level like Suez.

My plan was to sail across Panama non-stop, then tie up at Naos Island Marina to re-charge, re-fill, and re-supply. The next deep water port heading up the west coast was Quepos, Costa Rica. When you left Panama you had to be ready to sail for three+ days non-stop to Quepos for fresh supplies and rest. From what the Idiot's book said sailors were less likely to disappear if they avoided stopping along the west coast of Central America, but larger Mexican ports were usually safer. The book's author said never purchase a prostitute or drugs anywhere along the west coast or badness would descend from above and end your voyage and your life. He said, "Do not fuck around in Central America unless you got someone beside you with a finger on the trigger of a loaded Tommy gun." I closed the book and looked at the author's name and thanked him for the advice.

The weirdest thing about the canal was our brains told us it ran east-west but it actually sat north-south. And because of a large peninsula on the Pacific side of Panama once you cleared the last locks heading south (Mira Flores) you still had about one hundred more miles to sail south before you could begin your turn to the northwest to sail up the west coast of Central America. Because of the peninsula Panama was actually 150 miles wide for some ships.

The book also said the problem with raising sails on Gatun Lake was being in the middle of a 'rain forest' the lake was home to frequent and intense thunderstorms. Some of those created dangerous conditions for sailboats and their crews. I'd be crossing during the dry season.

A summary of my trip looked like this: The trip was broken up into five segments: (estimated sailing 200 miles per day)

1. Florida to Cozumel, 500 miles. 3-days non-stop.

2. Cozumel to Colon. 1,100 miles. 5-6 days with possible stops.

3. Panama. 160 miles. 2-3 days with a mandatory 24-48 hour stop.

4. Panama to Acapulco. 1,700 miles. 9+ days with stops.

5. Acapulco to Los Angeles. 1,700 miles. 9+ days with stops.

Factoring in days in port for unexpected repairs or bad weather, the trip could be done in just under two months. Considering some segments had to be sailed non-stop it made sense to bring someone along to co-pilot. The canal required every boat to have two deckhands on board to handle ropes inside the locks. They also had very specific requirements for ropes.

Sailing from Panama to Los Angeles was similar to driving from Florida to Los Angeles and back to Florida. Even with the costs of sailing that far, sailing was still cheaper than loading the boat on a truck and hauling it to the west coast. I considered selling the boat but then I really would be homeless, and this boat spoke to me, my soul felt connected to it, like she was built for me. I felt more confident and at peace living on her than any place I've lived since I was a little child.

Knowing the trip would take up to two months I could now start making a list of supplies. My first list included: bottled water, emergency rations, canned food, spares for everything, and new fishing gear too. I'd need a ton of alkaline batteries for the GPS and the VHF marine radio, and this trip would mandate the purchase and installation of marine radar too. I'd also needed a way to hold the ship's course when I napped at sea, Tim suggested the rubber strap I'd already used to hold the wheel while I left the helm. He told me that some handheld GPS units allowed you to program a route and they'd alarm if you drifted off course, I immediately searched for one like that.

I also started making a list of gear for the voyage. I'd be sailing into the tropics outside of hurricane season but rain and storms around Central America would be guaranteed. I wrote an email to my old friend, the guy who ran my sailor's license classes at the university to see if he wanted to meet for lunch and a long talk about my proposed trip. Of course he said yes.

Contact the author: borischenaz gmail