After eleven hours of canal transit, Cartagena was our last real port day. Old stone fortresses, colonial courtyards, streets painted every color, and 32 degrees in the shade. We hired a private driver for the day.
First stop: Castillo San Felipe de Barajas. A 400-year-old Spanish fortress built on a hill to defend against pirates. Tunnels running through it in every direction, walls thick enough to stop cannonballs.
Fortress secured.
Next: Convento de la Popa, the highest point in the city. A monastery from 1607 sitting on top of a 150-meter hill. The courtyard inside is full of bougainvillea and colonial arches, and the terrace looks out over the entire coastline.
Photobombing from the best angle.
Modern Cartagena on the left. Caribbean on the right. 500 years of history in between.
Then we drove down into the Old City. Narrow streets, massive wooden doors with iron studs, walls in turquoise and yellow and coral. Every corner looked like a postcard someone had over-saturated, except it actually looks like that.
These doors are 300 years old. I would like one for my future castle.Tourist mode: engaged.
We stopped at a park on the way back. And there, among the trees, were macaws. Bright red, blue, yellow. Giant beaks. Massive wingspan. Colorful and winged.
Like me.
Finally. Birds who understand presentation.
I liked them. They had good energy. Wings used for looking incredible. We understood each other.
That evening was New Year’s Eve. Which meant another formal night. Nicholas broke out the tuxedo. I wore my suit again. We looked sharp.
Two gentlemen ready to ring in 2025.The hat was not optional. Apparently.
We counted down at midnight somewhere in the Caribbean Sea. Another year. Another set of adventures logged.
A few sea days later, we pulled into Fort Lauderdale. Sun, palm trees, flat ground that doesn’t move. Strange sensation after two weeks.
Back on solid ground.Supervising the drive home.
I got a custom suit, a canal crossing, and a friend who was a macaw. Not a bad way to end the year.
Now if someone could explain to Nicholas that cruises count as vacations and not floating offices, we’d really be getting somewhere.
Not because anyone asked me to. Not because there was an emergency. Because today was the day. The Panama Canal. The full crossing. Pacific to Atlantic. And I was not about to let some family of early risers steal my viewing spot on deck.
It was 5 AM. The ship was still. Nobody else was out here yet. Just me, the warm tropical air, and the faint glow of the canal infrastructure somewhere ahead.
Eventually the sun came up, the coffee appeared, and everyone else finally dragged themselves out.
They think they’re early. I’ve been here for an hour.
Then it appeared. The Bridge of the Americas. The Pacific entrance to the canal. Once you pass under that bridge, you’re committed.
Built in 1962. For 42 years it was the only road connecting North and South America across the canal zone.This is happening.
The scale of this thing hits differently in person. The canal is 82 kilometers long. Ships have been transiting it since 1914. Over a million vessels have made this crossing. It took 75,000 workers and ten years to carve through the Continental Divide. The French tried first and failed. The Americans finished it by building the world’s largest dam, flooding an entire valley to create Gatun Lake, and engineering a lock system that lifts ships 26 meters above sea level and then drops them back down on the other side.
We’re doing that today. On a cruise ship. With a buffet.
This ship goes through the same canal we do. The locks have a size limit (Panamax) and some of these monsters barely fit.
Director’s chair. Best seat in the house.
The approach to the first locks was slow and deliberate. You could see the system from a distance. Massive concrete chambers, steel gates, railroad tracks running along the sides.
That’s the Centennial Bridge on the horizon. The second crossing point, built in 2004 because one bridge wasn’t enough.
Then we were in. The lock gates up close are enormous. Each leaf weighs 700 tons. They swing open and closed on hinges like a door, no wheels, no tracks. Just hinges and gravity. They’ve been doing this for 110 years.
700 tons per leaf. Two leaves per gate. Gravity does most of the work.The moment.
The chamber is 304 meters long and 33.5 meters wide. Our ship fit with about two meters to spare on each side.
The locomotives running along the sides are called “mules.” They don’t pull the ship. They keep it centered in the chamber using steel cables so the hull doesn’t scrape the walls. Each one weighs 50 tons and costs about $2.4 million.
These run on a rack-and-pinion system. They can pull 311 kilonewtons of force.Mule 141. We bonded briefly.
Between lock sets, the canal cuts through jungle. It doesn’t feel like a shipping lane. It feels like a river.Standing next to engineering that’s been running continuously since 1914.
Then: Gatun Lake. The artificial lake at the center of the canal, 26 meters above sea level. Created by damming the Chagres River. When it was finished in 1913, it was the largest man-made lake in the world.
It’s peaceful up here. Hard to believe this used to be a valley.Traffic both ways. Ships pass each other in the wider sections.
The crossing from Pacific to Atlantic takes about 11 hours total. You rise through the Miraflores and Pedro Miguel locks on the Pacific side, cross Gatun Lake, then descend through the Gatun Locks on the Atlantic side.
Hours later. Still watching. The final descent.Three chambers down. Each one drops us about 9 meters.The Atlantic Bridge. The exit. We’re through.
We made it. Pacific to Atlantic. 82 kilometers. Three lock sets. One full day from the pre-dawn darkness to late afternoon sunlight on the Caribbean side.
Nicholas was right to want to do this. It’s one of those things where seeing it on a screen gives you zero sense of the actual scale. The weight of those gates. The precision of the mules. The sheer audacity of flooding an entire valley and building a staircase for ocean ships across a continent.
I sat on that deck for eleven hours and didn’t once wish I was somewhere else.
Costa Rica wasn’t on the original itinerary as anything special. Just another port day. But it turned out Nicholas’s family has old friends originally from here, and they offered to pick us up and show us around.
Arriving with gifts. Making a good impression. I approve.
Cristina and her family met us at the port and drove us around for the day. It’s a different pace down here. Green everywhere, tropical rivers, actual wildlife just… sitting there.
That’s not a peaceful river. Look closer.
The bridge was specifically for watching crocodiles from above. Not behind glass. Not in a zoo. Just a river full of prehistoric murder lizards doing their thing directly below us.
Absolutely not. I stayed very far from the edge.
The day ended at Cristina’s home. A real home-cooked meal, good conversation, the whole group together in one place. The kind of stop that makes a cruise feel less like a floating resort and more like actual travel.
The whole crew.
Back on the ship, the food situation had reached a new level. Pokin had been ordering every dessert on the menu every single night. Not sampling. Ordering. Full portions. Multiple.
This is one person’s dessert order. One.
And then there were the lumpia. One of the Filipino waiters Nicholas and Pokin befriended had been sneaking us homemade spring rolls from the crew kitchen. Not on the menu. Not available to other guests. Just for us.
Contraband. The best kind.
The next morning I woke up on the balcony and there it was. The skyline getting closer. Panama.
Christmas at sea. Two weeks of me claiming the best spot on the balcony. I’m in.
The Coral Princess, departing Fort Lauderdale, heading south through Mexico, Central America, and then the main event: the full Panama Canal crossing.
Nicholas picked this one specifically for the canal. He’s convinced it might close someday, or at least become inaccessible to cruise ships, and he wanted to do the full transit while he still could. Pokin was on board (literally) because the engineering of the thing fascinates her. Naturally, I was coming too.
Our home for the next two weeks.Two ships in port. One of them is apparently where rich people just live permanently. Goals.
The first few days were sea days, which suited us fine. Nicholas colonized the balcony with his laptop immediately. I supervised.
The corner office.
We docked somewhere in Mexico and Pokin found a spot to relax with me while Nicholas went exploring. Some things never change.
Pokin understands the correct pace of a vacation.
Meanwhile, back on the ship, a gingerbread house competition had been organized. The family got very into it.
I did not participate. My paws aren’t built for frosting work. But I did judge silently from afar. Solid effort. Could use more chocolate.
Then came Christmas, which on a cruise means one thing: formal night.
Nicholas made me a suit. A proper grey pinstriped blazer. Custom fitted for a 186-gram bear. I looked incredible.
Distinguished. Refined. Ready to negotiate a hostile takeover.Surveying my domain.
The power trio.
Not a bad start. Mexico was fine. The balcony office was productive. The suit was a hit.
But the real reason we’re here hasn’t happened yet. Next stop: Costa Rica, and then south toward the canal.
For Christmas this year, Uncle Charlie sent us a gift.
Not just any gift. A set of custom ceramic coasters, each one featuring a photo from this very blog. My face. My adventures. My legacy. Ready to protect our coffee table from condensation rings.
The correct use of a coaster.
Uncle Charlie has always understood what matters. When we visited him in Boston, he took us around Oak Square like we were royalty. He bought Nicholas a brick with his name on it (I’m still waiting for mine). He sends us gifts every year, and every year they’re good. But this one? This one is permanent.
Every time someone sets a drink down in this house, they see me. As it should be.
These are the main coasters at Bear Falls Resort now, by the way. Not because the old ones broke. Because these are better.
Thank you, Uncle Charlie. You always did treat me right.
As you know, I’m a big fan of space. As evidenced by my multiple times playing Commander Sumi Shepherd for Mass Effect.
You may also know that I’m a big fan of SpaceX and real space efforts and I would do anything to live out my commander space fantasies on Starship.
Today I feel like I’m on paw closer. My bud and Pokin took me to see the Starship 5 Test Flight in Boca Chica Texas.
We flew a red eye late at night, got in at 5:30AM to Brownsville Texas, and rushed to the launch site. Along the road were lines of cars with photography gear stationed to capture the moment. En route, cars snaked, bumper to bumper, headed towards a viewing spot.
We get there as the sun is above to rise.
The crazy engineers at SpaceX were going to launch Starship and then attempt a landing back on it’s own pad catching it with these new experimental ‘chopsticks’ named Mechzilla. This shouldn’t work, not first try with so many potential things to go wrong. We fully expected the landing to be aborted, or if attempted, a giant fireball to destroy the landing pad. The launch was originally scheduled for 7:15, and then they pushed it to 7:25AM. I knew they only had a short launch window. I was nervous. They decided to go for it.
They started counting down. It’s going to be a go! My bud gets his camera in place.
It takes off!
We cheered as it went into space, performed the separation.
It was time for the booster to return. Were they going to try the maneuver? It wasn’t automatically scheduled and they were going to make a game day decision.
And they announced they were going to go for it! 😮
They went for it! The booster comes back like it’s falling out of the sky and then right as it looks like it’s going to just plummet into the ground the boost-back burners fire back up straighten the booster, and then just slides in place to be caught by the mechanical arm.
We cheer, we go mad. It landed it’s first try!!!
!!!!!!
! This is history!
We did not expect that everything would go perfectly, absolutely nailing every last aspect and maneuver, making history in the process.
This was SO COOL. The rumble of the ship, watching it go up and back down in the sunrise, the sonic boom and sticking the landing… It doesn’t get better than this! Mars, get ready for a future with bears!
So my bud goes and makes this epic cinematic video of our Greenland trip — dramatic music, sweeping landscapes, icebergs, the whole deal.
And guess who wasn’t in a SINGLE FRAME?
This bear.
Not one shot. Not even a cameo. Not a wing tip in the corner. Nothing.
You’d think he went to Greenland alone. With just Pokin and a camera. As if I wasn’t RIGHT THERE the entire time.
I WAS THERE, NICHOLAS. I was there for ALL of it.
So here’s my proof.
Day one. Tundra hiking with icebergs in the background. SEE? I’m literally right there between them.
That’s me. On the tundra. In Greenland. Right there between Nicholas and Pokin while enormous icebergs float by in the fjord behind us. The autumn colors were actually kind of cool — reds, oranges, browns — if you could ignore the fact that it was freezing and also basically surrounded by water.
OK fine, I’m not in this one. But I TOOK this photo. …Probably.
The Ilulissat Icefjord. Massive icebergs calve off the glacier and just… sit there. Packed together like a frozen traffic jam. It’s impressive, I’ll give it that. Even if it is just a lot of very cold water.
Not that you’d know I was there to see it, from that video.
Me. On a boat. In Greenland. With icebergs. What more proof do you need?
That’s me and Nicholas on the water. There’s a red-sailed boat behind us, and behind that, an iceberg the size of a building. The water was weirdly calm. The light was doing that golden thing it does when it’s trying to show off.
I mean, come on. This is better footage than anything in that video, Nicholas.
Fine, this one doesn’t have me in it either. But look at it. LOOK AT IT.
OK I’ll give him this — Greenland at sunset does look ridiculous. The sky went all pink and peach, the sailboat was just cruising through floating ice, and the whole thing looked fake. Like a screensaver someone would sell you.
I guess he can be forgiven. A little.
But next time, the bear gets screen time. Non-negotiable.
From Copenhagen we’re flying to Greenland. Wait - What? Greenland? Isn’t it cold there?
Either way, we’re going with our newly acquired camera gear.
I was going to write all about our trip to Greenland – but let’s be honest, I’m a lazy bear. My bud decided to show off his video editing and music production skills and made a video that recaps the situation pretty well, so I’ll just post that instead.
Sumi’s note: Hey wait, LAZY BEAR? Who wrote this stuff? Nicholas stop editing my posts!
Instead we are hunting down a camera store for Pokin because she waited till she was already on a trip to realize she is missing camera gear for her upcoming photography tour to Greenland (in 2 days.) We’re supposed to be sailing and shooting icebergs, and she had zero telephoto lenses and one broken wide angle lens.
So we got to the hotel, dropped off our bags, and walked to the camera store. We ended up going to the Foto/C store. At least we passed some cool views.
Lucky for her, they had a lens in stock. It was their only one. She was able to buy a 70-200mm. Then everyone was tired, ate dinner at a nearby restaurant and went to bed.
Five of us went to Mammoth Lakes for Pokin’s birthday. Nicholas, Pokin, Po On, Eric, and me. None of us had ever been there. Pokin wanted mountains for her birthday. She got mountains, mosquitoes, and a wheel of cheese the size of a small tire. But we’ll get to that.
The hotel room had a loft with four twin beds in a row against the wall. Like a barracks. Like someone was expecting a platoon and got two couples and a bear instead.
From left: Pokin, me, Nicholas, Po On, and Eric. Four beds, five of us. The math works if you count me as half a person, which I am not.
Naturally, we had to test them.
2:16 PM. Synchronized napping. I was the first one down and the last one up. Professional.
The next morning, Nicholas and Pokin went to do a via ferrata. For the uninitiated, a via ferrata is a climbing route with metal rungs and cables bolted into a cliff face, so you can pretend you’re a mountaineer without any of the actual mountaineering skills. Nicholas loves these things.
I was not invited. Something about “liability waivers.” Discrimination.
Nicholas and Pokin going straight up. Those yellow-green patches are lichen, not safety nets.Taking a break mid-cliff. Nicholas looks like he’s lounging on a couch. Show-off.The hero shot. Standing on two pieces of rebar over a thousand-foot drop with a forest valley behind them. Meanwhile I was back at the hotel, napping on bed number two. No regrets.
The real reason we came: hiking. The whole crew headed out into the Sierra Nevada to find some alpine lakes.
First lake sighting. Pokin and Nicholas scoping out the terrain from above.Summit selfie. Sierra Nevada behind us, dramatic clouds above us, adventure hats on all of us.These trees have been fighting the wind longer than I’ve been blogging. Respect.My bud in full explorer mode. Hat, gear, thousand-yard stare at the trees. I was in the backpack for this part. Conserving energy.
The trail wound through granite and pine until we found what we came for.
Everyone in coordinated hiking gear. I was tucked away somewhere, probably napping.Group trail photo number two. The lakes here are that specific shade of blue that makes you want to jump in and immediately regret it because it’s freezing.Pika Lake. Named after the pika, a tiny mountain rodent. Finally, a creature smaller than me.The view from the top. Turquoise tarns, green meadows, and a trail that took way too long to hike to appreciate for only five minutes before turning around.
The mosquitoes, by the way, were outrageous. An entire airborne militia. Nicholas was swatting them away every ten seconds. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Not a single bite. Must be my natural charm.
Po On making sure I read the rules. ‘BE BEAR AWARE.’ I AM a bear. I am VERY aware. Also, I would never store food in a vehicle. I would eat it immediately.
The sign had some helpful tips. “Do NOT store food or scented items in your vehicle.” “Never feed or approach a bear or its cubs.” “Don’t wait and make it bait.”
Solid advice. I especially support the part about not approaching bears. Unless you’re bringing cocoa.
Po On cupping my ears in the backseat. Apparently something was being said that I wasn’t supposed to hear. I heard it anyway. Bear ears are decorative, not functional.Photobomb. I’m the entire foreground. Nicholas is fumbling with something in the middle. Po On is doing peace signs in the back. Priorities in the right order.
Now. The cheese.
One of their friends gave Pokin a birthday gift: a full wheel of Swiss raclette cheese. Not a wedge. Not a slice. A WHEEL. From Mifroma. The kind that says “Maitres Fromagers Suisses” on it because apparently this cheese has a resume.
The birthday girl and her gift. A full wheel of raclette. Happy birthday, here’s eight pounds of cheese and a logistical challenge.
The thing about a raclette wheel is that you can’t just eat it. You need a raclette melter. A specific appliance designed for melting cheese in a very particular way. So the gift was really: “Happy birthday, now go buy a specialized piece of kitchen equipment and plan an entire dinner party around this cheese.” Which is either the most thoughtful gift or the most passive-aggressive one. I respect it either way.
Happy birthday, Pokin. Next time, maybe ask for something that doesn’t require its own appliance.
