I am struck by the irony that, on the eve of, arguably, the most controversial presidential election in the history of the United States that is being closely followed all over the world, we are watching the results from our suite on Nautica, in the Gulf of the Suez Canal, one of the most volatile political regions in the world today.
Unlike the Panama Canal, which consists of a series of locks and levels, and a highly engineered method of transiting ships through it’s narrow cut in one of the most inhospitably, hot, humid, pestilence-ridden regions of the world, the Suez Canal is a lockless, wide, river-like ditch in the hot sands of the desolate Sinai Desert, connecting the Mediterranean Sea with the Red Sea. But even as early as the 13th century BC, there is evidence that ancient Egyptians created a trade route to the east in this desert, through an east-west canal joining the Nile River and the Red Sea, probably even traveled by Cleopatra herself. This lasted more than a thousand years until it went into disrepair and the desert reclaimed the ancient waterway.
In 1850, Napoleon Bonaparte came along, invaded and occupied Egypt, and as if it were a brand new idea, he contemplated construction of a canal. But it was abandoned when his French surveys erroneously concluded that the connecting seas were of different depths, making a lockless canal impossible. Shortly later, the enterprising French consul to Egypt, Ferdinand de Lesseps, pursued the idea again, and with Said Pasha, the Viceroy of Egypt, a company was created for the purpose of constructing a maritime canal open to ships of all nations, and was financed by the sale of stock. When the company ran into financial difficulties, Pasha purchased a large part of the company to keep it in operation. The project was further complicated with intervention from Napoleon and later the British, ultimately leaving Egypt, the very country who’s land was being carved for this waterway, without ownership and suffering heavy loss of life from the tens of thousands of Egyptian laborers who built the canal. Today, it has been the center of major political disputes, and closed twice during war times, but is finally owned by Egypt and allows transit to every flag of the world.
Shortly after its completion, the French sculptor, Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, was inspired to propose an enormous monument lighthouse, in the spirit of the Colossus of Rhodes, to be created for the northern entrance of the Suez Canal, featuring the form of an ancient Egyptian female peasant, robed and holding a torch aloft. His plan was rejected by the British and the Suez Canal Company, but later, his project became reality, and in 1886, it was delivered to New York Harbor as The Statue of Liberty. Now, on the starboard side of the Suez Canal’s northern entrance, stands the imposing Suez Canal Company Building, and opposite it on the port side are twin minarets of the mosque.
The east side of the canal is mainly mountainous desert sand with an occasional road cut through to the waterway, while the golden sand of the western bank is dotted with greenery and several cities, some even featuring beaches and resorts, against a distant mountainous backdrop. The canal looks mostly like a broad river and, traveling southward, it opens into the large Bitter Lakes, just before reaching the Red Sea. Throughout the transit, our ship was often passed by small, curious fishing boats and traditional square-sailed Egyptian felucca’s.
The Panama Canal adheres to a transit schedule, allowing for advance reservations to be made so that cruise ships can enjoy a daylight passage, but it seems the Suez Canal operates on a more erratic first-come, first-served basis as, when we approached the entrance, the sea filled up with vessels of all sizes floating about to funnel into the desert waterway. The canal itself, though broad and with a depth that allows ships of up to 53 foot draft, is not wide enough for two ships, so vessels must transit through in convoy or use several bypasses.
We were told our complete transit would take about 11 hours, beginning around 4:00 in the morning and continuing until the next afternoon. When I awoke at 3:40 a.m. and stepped out on the veranda just as we entered the canal, the stars in the dark, early morning sky were lightly veiled with tufts of smoky gray clouds on the horizon. The air was mildly cool with the raw scent of oil and sand, and along the western bank I could see a busy highway with the red taillights of semi-trailer trucks lined up at the toll gate to Port Said. Over the din of traffic, punctuated by truck horns echoing in the darkness, I could hear the eerie, mournful wailing of the daybreak call to prayer from the surrounding mosques, leaving me feeling estranged, foreign, and maybe a little vulnerable, on this historic political eve.