Loading...
May 04, 2000 - Return to Panama, part 2AAA, • The Suffolk Times • May 4, 2900 Return to Panama, part 2 As you remember we're anticipating a trip that will take us through the Panama Canal and last week we took pages from my old log written while I was in the service telling about that memorable passage. This week we con- tinue on our journey through the canal. OUR CHIEF, WHO HAD been a com- mercial fisherman, a little fellow from along the coast of New Jersey, was always asking the locals about the pos- sibilities of fishing. Now when he asked he was told of the great silver beau- FOCUS ties up the old French Canal: tar- ON pon. The word NATURE itself implied sport and fight so the by Paul next morning with Stoutenburgh special permission from the "old man" we took off in the gig (motor launch). The chief, the motor mac and myself made up the party. Ziegler rigged his fishing pole while I was satisfied with a heavy tarred line secured to a gorgeous white feather. As we made our way up the canal with its crumbling banks and matted sides, birds of all kinds chatted about us. Some were solid colors, others spotted while still others appeared like the painting of a child. I remem- ber one solid white bird in particular. It must have been some sort of egret or heron, for its flight followed that pattern. As we came into a large lagoon at the end of the canal the water took on a light coffee color. Lines were let out and the motor cut down. Off to the left something broke the water. Now to the right, now dead ahead. All about us were great swirls. Occasionally a back could be seen, or were our eyes playing tricks on us? Gosh, they must be big. Now if only one would strike. But this was a day when they were just rolling. It was the art of picking bugs off the surface. It meant that trolling was practically worthless. We'd stick it out a little longer and so around and around we went. Out in the middle, close to shore, in the lagoon, close to that fallen tree; then zing! the line took up and started out. I clamped down to try to set the hook but too late. He'd seen his mis- take and thrown the hook. As he did this his head came out of the water, big and shiny, almost mocking me. So I had failed to hook the "king of kings." No matter, the thrill of hooking into that giant for those few seconds proved its worth. With this encour- agement we tried again but no go. We had had our chance and muffed it. Better luck next time, sailor. And so with the lines in and the motor in high- er gear we headed back. I said then and I say now, "If ever I stop in Panama again I'll not pass through without another try and your king of kings better watch out." One more big trip should be taken in before our trip up to California. That one was at Panama City. To get there from Colon you had to take the bus and what a bus it was. It was strictly for the locals so when we ap- plied for tickets we raised quite a row. "Americanos should ride first class by train." And so with our tickets bought we practically crawled to our seats. Our old country school bus back home would have put this contraption to shame. Hot, smelly and cramped, it provided our transportation just the same. How it would grunt and groan as it labored up the steep inclines and how it would take off like a runaway horse on the way down, swinging and swaying as everyone gripped the'seats and held their breath. I'm afraid my vigilance wore off as the trip progressed for I now became goggle -eyed at the passing scenes. Jungles as I've read and seen pictures of were everywhere. Giant trees stood guard all through the hills while smaller bushes fought for second place. The great leaves of the banana trees glistened in the sun, every once in a while showing their small clasps and castanets for home. In one section we'd gotten lost and wandered about the native section for hours. We felt mighty uneasy as heads popped out and chattered whisperingly at us. It showed we trusted no one we saw and kept to the middle of the road, such as it was. Naked children bawled from the windows while women bel- lowed back. The waterfront proved just as bad. Large, broken -down tenement houses were built over the water while underneath small boats were moored. Perhaps this scene would have looked a bit more pleasant if the tide had been in, but it was out and it looked most barren. Fishing boats lay on their sides, high and dry, while some vultures picked at the dead carcass of a dog lying there. Suffolk Times photo by Paul Stoutenburgh The tarpon is the largest member of the herring family. Occasionally it trav- els north along the Gulf Stream as far as Long Island. Once it leaves the warm water of the Gulf Stream it probably succumbs to the cold. Some of the best tarpon fishing in the world Is in the vicinity of Panama. dwarfed bunches of bananas. Now a native but would flash by with its naked children about. From here on we would get used to seeing deformed children, deformed in the respect that they looked as if they were pregnant but, of course, they weren't. It all boils down to malnutri- tion, the lack of proper foods, etc. The large stomachs and skinny legs made an ugly sight. Panama City was a boom town of curio shops and bars. There were a few modern shops but these were greatly outnumbered. Most of our time here we spent in just seeing the town. We took in the cathedrals, water fountains, native quarters, etc. Shopping also took a bit of our time as I did want to send home something nice to the folks. Leather and silver goods were the most common. So it was pocketbooks, billfolds, perfume, Well, now the day was practical- ly spent so we took the last train back to Colon. Next morning was busy with the packing of foods aboard and refueling. Then it was off to L.A. I think everyone in the United States should go through the Panama Canal if only to realize what great engineers this country has. To see a ship, no matter what its size, being lifted from one level to another, to watch those great gates open and the ship sail forth to the next level, to see the great canyons cut through gaping mountains and to see the ranges that keep the ship exactly on course would make any person proud. And proud I felt as I stood at the wheel, the pilot saying, "A little to starboard. Steady. Keep those two ranges in line. That's good." So it went from one watch to the next, from one level to the next. We were crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Soon the great Pacific Ocean lay before us. The largest body of water in the world. So this foundation of blue was to be our riding place for the next 10 months. It was on this that we were to live or die. To show its greatness the noble Pacific had a school of porpois- es escort us and see us safely on our way. And on our way we did go, day after day ever north. The little countries of Central America passed by one by one until the great country of Mexico spread out before us. As the latitudes grew in number so did my interest in the northern stars grow. Stars that I had seen all my life took on new meaning. Now the great desolate perimeter of lower California was beside us, behind it the unexplored waters of the Gulf of California. What a paradise it would be to sail those waters! But not now. Our course was set for L.A. in the land of sunshine. But could there be any more sunshine than what was pouring down on us now? So now you've heard what it was like to pass through the great Panama Canal and out into the Pacific Ocean through the eyes of a young sailor. If we get down that way and find things have changed greatly over the years, you'll probably read about it right here in this column. • The, Suffolk Times•,M�ty 4,, 2000 Return to anama, part Suffolk Times photo by Maui 5toutenourgn The tarpon Is the largest member of the herring family. Occasionally it trav- els north along the Gulf Stream as far as Long Island. Once it leaves the warm water of the Gulf Stream it probably succumbs to the cold. Some of the best tarpon fishing in the world is in the vicinity of Panama. As you remember we're anticipating a trip that will take us through the Panama Canal and last week we took pages from my old log written while 1 was in the service telling about that memorable passage. This week we con- tinue on our journey through the canal. OUR CHIEF, WHO HAD been a com- mercial fisherman, a little fellow from along the coast of New Jersey, was always asking the locals about the pos- sibilities of fishing. Now when he asked he was told of the great silver beau- FOCUS ties up the old French Canal: tar- ON pon. The word NATURE itself implied sport b Paul and fight so the Y next morning with Stoutenburgh special permission from the "old man" we took off in the gig (motor launch). The chief, the motor mac and myself made up the party. Ziegler rigged his fishing pole while I was satisfied with a heavy tarred line secured to a gorgeous white feather. As we made our way up the canal with its crumbling banks and matted sides, birds of all kinds chatted about us. Some were solid colors, others spotted while still others appeared like the painting of a child. I remem- ber one solid white bird in particular. It must have been some sort of egret or heron, for its flight followed that pattern. As we came into a large lagoon at the end of the canal the water took on a light coffee color. Lines were let out and the motor cut down. Off to the lef something broke the water. Now to the right, now dead ahead. All about us were great swirls. Occasionally a back could be seen, or were our eyes playing tricks on us? Gosh, they must be big. Now if only one would strike. But this was a day when they were jus rolling. It was the art of picking bugs off the surface. It meant that trolling was practically worthless. We'd stick it out a little longer and so around and around we went. Out in the middle, close to shore, in the lagoon, close to that fallen tree; then zing! the line took up and started out. I clamped down to try to set the hook but too late. He'd seen his mis- take and thrown the hook. As he did this his head came out of the water, big and shiny, almost mocking me. So I had failed to hook the "king of kings." No matter, the thrill of hooking into that giant for those few seconds proved its worth. With this encour- agement we tried again but no go. We had had our chance and muffed it. Better luck next time, sailor. And so with the lines in and the motor in high- er gear we headed back. I said then and I say now, "If ever I stop in Panama again I'll not pass through without another try and your king of kings better watch out." One more big trip should be taken in before our trip up to California. That one'was at Panama City. To get there from Colon you had to take the bus and what a bus it was. It was strictly for. the locals so when we ap- plied for tickets we raised quite a row. `Americanos should ride first class by 'train.." And so with our tickets bought we practically crawled to our seats. Our old country school bus back home would have put this contraption to shame. Hot, smelly and cramped, it provided our transportation just the same. How it would grunt and groan as it labored up the steep inclines and how it would take off like a runaway horse on the way down, swinging and swaying as everyone gripped the seats and held their breath.. I'm afraid my vigilance wore off as the trip progressed for -1 now became goggle -eyed at the passing scenes. Jungles as I've read and seen pictures of were everywhere. Giant trees stood guard all through the hills while smaller bushes fought for second place. The great leaves of the banana trees glistened in the sun, every once in a while showing their small awarted bunches of bananas. Now a native but would flash by with its naked children about. From here on we would get used to seeing deformed children, deformed in the respect that they looked as if they were pregnant but, of course, they weren't. It all boils down to malnutri- tion, the lack of proper foods, etc. The large stomachs and skinny legs made an ugly sight. Panama City was a boom town of curio shops and bars. There were a few modern shops but these were greatly outnumbered. Most of our time here we spent in just seeing the town. We took in the cathedrals, water fountains, native quarters, etc. Shopping also took a bit of our time as I did want to send home something nice to the folks. Leather and silver goods were the most common. So it was pocketbooks, billfolds, perfume, and castanets for home. In one section we'd gotten lost and wandered about the native section for hours. We felt mighty uneasy as heads popped out and chattered whisperingly at us. It showed we trusted no one we saw and kept to the middle of the road, such as it was. Naked children bawled from the windows while women bel- lowed back. The waterfront proved just as bad. Large, broken -down tenement houses were built over the water while underneath small boats were moored. Perhaps this scene would have looked a bit more pleasant if the tide had been in, but it was out and it looked most barren. Fishing boats lay on ,their sides, high and dry, while some vultures picked at the dead carcass I a dog lying there. - Well, now the day was practical- ly spent so we took the last train back to Colon. ext morning was busy with the packing of foods aboard and refueling. Then it was off to L.A. I think everyone in the United States should go through the Panama Canal if only to realize what great engineers this country has. To see a ship, no matter what its size, being lifted from one level to another, to watch those great gates open and the ship sail forth to the next level, to see the great canyons cut through gaping mountains and to see the ranges that keep the ship exactly on course would make any person proud. And proud I felt as I stood at the wheel, the pilot saying, "A little to starboard. Steady. Keep those two ranges in line. That's good." So it went from one watch to the next, from one level to the next. We were crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Soon the great Pacific Ocean lay before us. The largest body of water in the world. So this foundation of blue was to be our riding place for the next 10 months. It was on this that we were to live or die. To show its greatness the noble Pacific had a school of porpois- es escort us and see us safely on our way. And on our way we did go, day after day ever north. The little countries of Central America passed by one by one until the great country of Mexico spread out before us. As the latitudes grew in number so did my interest in the northern stars grow. Stars that I had seen all my life took on new meaning. Now the great desolate perimeter of lower California was beside us, behind it the unexplored waters of the Gulf of California. What a paradise it would be to sail those waters! But not now. Our course was set for L.A. in the land of sunshine. But could there be any more sunshine than what was pouring down on us now? So now you've heard what it was like to pass through the great Panama Canal and out into the Pacific Ocean through the eyes of a young sailor if we get down that way and find things have changed greatly over the years, you'll probably read about it right here in this column. • The, Suffolk Times•,M�ty 4,, 2000 Return to anama, part Suffolk Times photo by Maui 5toutenourgn The tarpon Is the largest member of the herring family. Occasionally it trav- els north along the Gulf Stream as far as Long Island. Once it leaves the warm water of the Gulf Stream it probably succumbs to the cold. Some of the best tarpon fishing in the world is in the vicinity of Panama. As you remember we're anticipating a trip that will take us through the Panama Canal and last week we took pages from my old log written while 1 was in the service telling about that memorable passage. This week we con- tinue on our journey through the canal. OUR CHIEF, WHO HAD been a com- mercial fisherman, a little fellow from along the coast of New Jersey, was always asking the locals about the pos- sibilities of fishing. Now when he asked he was told of the great silver beau- FOCUS ties up the old French Canal: tar- ON pon. The word NATURE itself implied sport b Paul and fight so the Y next morning with Stoutenburgh special permission from the "old man" we took off in the gig (motor launch). The chief, the motor mac and myself made up the party. Ziegler rigged his fishing pole while I was satisfied with a heavy tarred line secured to a gorgeous white feather. As we made our way up the canal with its crumbling banks and matted sides, birds of all kinds chatted about us. Some were solid colors, others spotted while still others appeared like the painting of a child. I remem- ber one solid white bird in particular. It must have been some sort of egret or heron, for its flight followed that pattern. As we came into a large lagoon at the end of the canal the water took on a light coffee color. Lines were let out and the motor cut down. Off to the lef something broke the water. Now to the right, now dead ahead. All about us were great swirls. Occasionally a back could be seen, or were our eyes playing tricks on us? Gosh, they must be big. Now if only one would strike. But this was a day when they were jus rolling. It was the art of picking bugs off the surface. It meant that trolling was practically worthless. We'd stick it out a little longer and so around and around we went. Out in the middle, close to shore, in the lagoon, close to that fallen tree; then zing! the line took up and started out. I clamped down to try to set the hook but too late. He'd seen his mis- take and thrown the hook. As he did this his head came out of the water, big and shiny, almost mocking me. So I had failed to hook the "king of kings." No matter, the thrill of hooking into that giant for those few seconds proved its worth. With this encour- agement we tried again but no go. We had had our chance and muffed it. Better luck next time, sailor. And so with the lines in and the motor in high- er gear we headed back. I said then and I say now, "If ever I stop in Panama again I'll not pass through without another try and your king of kings better watch out." One more big trip should be taken in before our trip up to California. That one'was at Panama City. To get there from Colon you had to take the bus and what a bus it was. It was strictly for. the locals so when we ap- plied for tickets we raised quite a row. `Americanos should ride first class by 'train.." And so with our tickets bought we practically crawled to our seats. Our old country school bus back home would have put this contraption to shame. Hot, smelly and cramped, it provided our transportation just the same. How it would grunt and groan as it labored up the steep inclines and how it would take off like a runaway horse on the way down, swinging and swaying as everyone gripped the seats and held their breath.. I'm afraid my vigilance wore off as the trip progressed for -1 now became goggle -eyed at the passing scenes. Jungles as I've read and seen pictures of were everywhere. Giant trees stood guard all through the hills while smaller bushes fought for second place. The great leaves of the banana trees glistened in the sun, every once in a while showing their small awarted bunches of bananas. Now a native but would flash by with its naked children about. From here on we would get used to seeing deformed children, deformed in the respect that they looked as if they were pregnant but, of course, they weren't. It all boils down to malnutri- tion, the lack of proper foods, etc. The large stomachs and skinny legs made an ugly sight. Panama City was a boom town of curio shops and bars. There were a few modern shops but these were greatly outnumbered. Most of our time here we spent in just seeing the town. We took in the cathedrals, water fountains, native quarters, etc. Shopping also took a bit of our time as I did want to send home something nice to the folks. Leather and silver goods were the most common. So it was pocketbooks, billfolds, perfume, and castanets for home. In one section we'd gotten lost and wandered about the native section for hours. We felt mighty uneasy as heads popped out and chattered whisperingly at us. It showed we trusted no one we saw and kept to the middle of the road, such as it was. Naked children bawled from the windows while women bel- lowed back. The waterfront proved just as bad. Large, broken -down tenement houses were built over the water while underneath small boats were moored. Perhaps this scene would have looked a bit more pleasant if the tide had been in, but it was out and it looked most barren. Fishing boats lay on ,their sides, high and dry, while some vultures picked at the dead carcass I a dog lying there. - Well, now the day was practical- ly spent so we took the last train back to Colon. ext morning was busy with the packing of foods aboard and refueling. Then it was off to L.A. I think everyone in the United States should go through the Panama Canal if only to realize what great engineers this country has. To see a ship, no matter what its size, being lifted from one level to another, to watch those great gates open and the ship sail forth to the next level, to see the great canyons cut through gaping mountains and to see the ranges that keep the ship exactly on course would make any person proud. And proud I felt as I stood at the wheel, the pilot saying, "A little to starboard. Steady. Keep those two ranges in line. That's good." So it went from one watch to the next, from one level to the next. We were crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Soon the great Pacific Ocean lay before us. The largest body of water in the world. So this foundation of blue was to be our riding place for the next 10 months. It was on this that we were to live or die. To show its greatness the noble Pacific had a school of porpois- es escort us and see us safely on our way. And on our way we did go, day after day ever north. The little countries of Central America passed by one by one until the great country of Mexico spread out before us. As the latitudes grew in number so did my interest in the northern stars grow. Stars that I had seen all my life took on new meaning. Now the great desolate perimeter of lower California was beside us, behind it the unexplored waters of the Gulf of California. What a paradise it would be to sail those waters! But not now. Our course was set for L.A. in the land of sunshine. But could there be any more sunshine than what was pouring down on us now? So now you've heard what it was like to pass through the great Panama Canal and out into the Pacific Ocean through the eyes of a young sailor if we get down that way and find things have changed greatly over the years, you'll probably read about it right here in this column. • The, Suffolk Times•,M�ty 4,, 2000 Return to anama, part Suffolk Times photo by Maui 5toutenourgn The tarpon Is the largest member of the herring family. Occasionally it trav- els north along the Gulf Stream as far as Long Island. Once it leaves the warm water of the Gulf Stream it probably succumbs to the cold. Some of the best tarpon fishing in the world is in the vicinity of Panama. As you remember we're anticipating a trip that will take us through the Panama Canal and last week we took pages from my old log written while 1 was in the service telling about that memorable passage. This week we con- tinue on our journey through the canal. OUR CHIEF, WHO HAD been a com- mercial fisherman, a little fellow from along the coast of New Jersey, was always asking the locals about the pos- sibilities of fishing. Now when he asked he was told of the great silver beau- FOCUS ties up the old French Canal: tar- ON pon. The word NATURE itself implied sport b Paul and fight so the Y next morning with Stoutenburgh special permission from the "old man" we took off in the gig (motor launch). The chief, the motor mac and myself made up the party. Ziegler rigged his fishing pole while I was satisfied with a heavy tarred line secured to a gorgeous white feather. As we made our way up the canal with its crumbling banks and matted sides, birds of all kinds chatted about us. Some were solid colors, others spotted while still others appeared like the painting of a child. I remem- ber one solid white bird in particular. It must have been some sort of egret or heron, for its flight followed that pattern. As we came into a large lagoon at the end of the canal the water took on a light coffee color. Lines were let out and the motor cut down. Off to the lef something broke the water. Now to the right, now dead ahead. All about us were great swirls. Occasionally a back could be seen, or were our eyes playing tricks on us? Gosh, they must be big. Now if only one would strike. But this was a day when they were jus rolling. It was the art of picking bugs off the surface. It meant that trolling was practically worthless. We'd stick it out a little longer and so around and around we went. Out in the middle, close to shore, in the lagoon, close to that fallen tree; then zing! the line took up and started out. I clamped down to try to set the hook but too late. He'd seen his mis- take and thrown the hook. As he did this his head came out of the water, big and shiny, almost mocking me. So I had failed to hook the "king of kings." No matter, the thrill of hooking into that giant for those few seconds proved its worth. With this encour- agement we tried again but no go. We had had our chance and muffed it. Better luck next time, sailor. And so with the lines in and the motor in high- er gear we headed back. I said then and I say now, "If ever I stop in Panama again I'll not pass through without another try and your king of kings better watch out." One more big trip should be taken in before our trip up to California. That one'was at Panama City. To get there from Colon you had to take the bus and what a bus it was. It was strictly for. the locals so when we ap- plied for tickets we raised quite a row. `Americanos should ride first class by 'train.." And so with our tickets bought we practically crawled to our seats. Our old country school bus back home would have put this contraption to shame. Hot, smelly and cramped, it provided our transportation just the same. How it would grunt and groan as it labored up the steep inclines and how it would take off like a runaway horse on the way down, swinging and swaying as everyone gripped the seats and held their breath.. I'm afraid my vigilance wore off as the trip progressed for -1 now became goggle -eyed at the passing scenes. Jungles as I've read and seen pictures of were everywhere. Giant trees stood guard all through the hills while smaller bushes fought for second place. The great leaves of the banana trees glistened in the sun, every once in a while showing their small awarted bunches of bananas. Now a native but would flash by with its naked children about. From here on we would get used to seeing deformed children, deformed in the respect that they looked as if they were pregnant but, of course, they weren't. It all boils down to malnutri- tion, the lack of proper foods, etc. The large stomachs and skinny legs made an ugly sight. Panama City was a boom town of curio shops and bars. There were a few modern shops but these were greatly outnumbered. Most of our time here we spent in just seeing the town. We took in the cathedrals, water fountains, native quarters, etc. Shopping also took a bit of our time as I did want to send home something nice to the folks. Leather and silver goods were the most common. So it was pocketbooks, billfolds, perfume, and castanets for home. In one section we'd gotten lost and wandered about the native section for hours. We felt mighty uneasy as heads popped out and chattered whisperingly at us. It showed we trusted no one we saw and kept to the middle of the road, such as it was. Naked children bawled from the windows while women bel- lowed back. The waterfront proved just as bad. Large, broken -down tenement houses were built over the water while underneath small boats were moored. Perhaps this scene would have looked a bit more pleasant if the tide had been in, but it was out and it looked most barren. Fishing boats lay on ,their sides, high and dry, while some vultures picked at the dead carcass I a dog lying there. - Well, now the day was practical- ly spent so we took the last train back to Colon. ext morning was busy with the packing of foods aboard and refueling. Then it was off to L.A. I think everyone in the United States should go through the Panama Canal if only to realize what great engineers this country has. To see a ship, no matter what its size, being lifted from one level to another, to watch those great gates open and the ship sail forth to the next level, to see the great canyons cut through gaping mountains and to see the ranges that keep the ship exactly on course would make any person proud. And proud I felt as I stood at the wheel, the pilot saying, "A little to starboard. Steady. Keep those two ranges in line. That's good." So it went from one watch to the next, from one level to the next. We were crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Soon the great Pacific Ocean lay before us. The largest body of water in the world. So this foundation of blue was to be our riding place for the next 10 months. It was on this that we were to live or die. To show its greatness the noble Pacific had a school of porpois- es escort us and see us safely on our way. And on our way we did go, day after day ever north. The little countries of Central America passed by one by one until the great country of Mexico spread out before us. As the latitudes grew in number so did my interest in the northern stars grow. Stars that I had seen all my life took on new meaning. Now the great desolate perimeter of lower California was beside us, behind it the unexplored waters of the Gulf of California. What a paradise it would be to sail those waters! But not now. Our course was set for L.A. in the land of sunshine. But could there be any more sunshine than what was pouring down on us now? So now you've heard what it was like to pass through the great Panama Canal and out into the Pacific Ocean through the eyes of a young sailor if we get down that way and find things have changed greatly over the years, you'll probably read about it right here in this column.