From 250 feet in the air, the Panama Canal appears as a thin green line carved through the verdant isthmus – a testament to human engineering that has shaped global commerce for over a century. Today, this crucial waterway faces unprecedented challenges: severe drought has forced authorities to restrict vessel traffic, while geopolitical tensions swirl around its operations and control. As shipping delays ripple through global supply chains, I find myself revisiting images captured on assignment that offer three distinct perspectives of this engineering marvel – aerial views of ships threading through the locks, underwater photographs from an archaeological expedition searching for the lost fleet of Captain Henry Morgan, and deck-level documentation while traversing the entire canal system aboard the expedition ship National Geographic Sea Lion.

The archaeological expedition, led by Texas State University’s Fritz Hanselmann and funded by Diageo’s Captain Morgan Rum, brought history and modern commerce together at the Caribbean entrance to one of the world’s most strategic waterways, and required both underwater and aerial perspectives to tell the story of the expedition. Later, multiple transits aboard the National Geographic Sea Lion gave me an intimate view of the lock systems in action, allowing me to document both the technical precision of the canal operations and the lush environment of the canal zone, including the vital work of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute.

The canal’s current water crisis, which has led to reduced transit slots and draft restrictions, brings new relevance to these photographs documenting its complex lock system. Having photographed from the heights that reveal the full scope of canal operations, the depths that hint at Panama‘s maritime history, and from the deck of a ship making the remarkable journey between two oceans, I’ve developed a unique appreciation for how this waterway has shaped global commerce – past and present.

The Engineering Marvel from Above: Aerial Perspectives of the Panama Canal

Long before drones made aerial photography commonplace, capturing the Panama Canal from above required a Cessna, careful planning, and strong coordination with canal authorities. Our flight path from Panama City’s airport was designed to document Fort San Lorenzo’s strategic position near the canal’s Caribbean entrance and its relationship to our underwater archaeological site, but it ended up revealing much more about this engineering wonder’s scale and complexity.

The journey began with views of the Miraflores Locks, where in 2012, massive excavation works marked the southern terminus of an ambitious canal expansion project – a modern echo of the original canal’s monumental construction. Following the waterway northward, we reached the Centennial Bridge, its striking white cable-stayed design spanning the canal like a modern sculpture against the tropical forest. As we continued north, the Culebra Cut (also known as the Gaillard Cut) came into view – a 9-mile artificial valley carved through the continental divide. From our altitude, the scale of this achievement became starkly apparent – what had once been solid mountain was transformed into a crucial shipping lane connecting two oceans. This stretch, which required the removal of hundreds of millions of cubic yards of earth and rock, stands as testament to both human determination and engineering ingenuity.

Continuing north, the vast expanse of Gatun Lake stretched below us, its artificial shores created when the Chagres River was dammed to form the canal’s central water system. The lake not only serves as the canal’s reservoir but also hosts the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, whose scientists study the unique ecosystem created by this massive engineering project. From the air, we could see the locks at Gatun, where a small vehicular bridge below one of the lock gates provided the only crossing point between the canal’s west and east banks in 2012. This crossing became intimately familiar during our archaeological expedition, as our team was based at Shelter Bay Marina on the western side of the canal, but needed to regularly resupply in the city of Colón to the east. What should have been a quick trip of just a few miles often turned into a full day’s journey, with traffic backing up for hours as vehicles could only cross between ship transits. It wasn’t until 2019 that the Atlantic Bridge would finally provide a permanent solution to this logistical challenge, but during our expedition, the rhythm of our research was dictated by the ebb and flow of ships through the locks.

Circling Fort San Lorenzo, the fortress’s strategic position came into sharp relief. From the air, the promontory appears like a giant thumb extending into the Caribbean, with the treacherous Lajas Reef lurking beneath the waves at its base. To the west, another massive construction site marked the northern end of the canal expansion project, where new locks would eventually double the canal’s capacity. It was near this historic-meets-modern junction that Morgan’s invasion force met disaster in 1671, when his flagship Satisfaction and four other vessels ran aground on these very reefs during his assault on the fort. Yet despite losing his ships, Morgan’s subsequent overland attack would prove successful, marking a pivotal moment in Caribbean history. After taking Fort San Lorenzo, Morgan’s forces would go on to capture the Spanish stronghold of Portobelo, its massive fortifications still standing today as testament to the strategic importance of Panama’s Caribbean coast.

The return flight to Panama City offered a comprehensive view of this massive infrastructure project. From above, you could truly grasp the scope of the expansion – parallel channels being carved alongside the original canal, new lock systems under construction at both ends, all while the existing canal continued its tireless operation. The past, present, and future of Panama’s maritime history merged into a single narrative of human ingenuity and ambition, from Spanish gold ships to modern container vessels, all seeking safe passage between the world’s two greatest oceans.

Diving into History: The Hunt for Henry Morgan

More than three centuries later, our archaeological team, led by Fritz Hanselmann, would make significant discoveries in these same waters. The recovery of one of Morgan’s cannons from the Satisfaction proved exciting, but it was the unexpected discovery of the Encarnación, a 17th-century Spanish vessel from the prestigious Tierra Firme fleet, that would prove most significant. Photographing these discoveries presented extreme challenges – the mouth of the Chagres River, vital to both colonial Spanish gold transport and the modern canal, pumps an endless stream of sediment into these waters. For 29 of my 30 days on assignment, visibility underwater was limited to just 2-3 feet in what can best be described as green pea soup. But on one remarkable day, the waters cleared enough to photograph the entire Encarnación wreck site, a rare glimpse into Panama’s maritime past lying in the shadow of its modern shipping present.

Inside the Locks: A Photographer’s Journey

Years after my aerial documentation of the canal, I found myself experiencing this engineering marvel from an entirely different perspective – at water level aboard the National Geographic Sea Lion. While aerial views had revealed the canal’s grand scale, this expedition offered an intimate look at the precision choreography that makes the canal function.

From the ship’s deck, the true mastery of the canal zone workers became apparent. These skilled professionals guide vessels through locks with clearances often measuring less than a foot on either side. The operation’s unsung heroes are the ‘mules’ – not the four-legged variety, but gleaming silver electric locomotives that run along the lock walls. These mechanical mules, as they’re known locally, work in perfect synchronization to keep massive ships perfectly centered as they’re raised and lowered through the lock system.

The expedition also provided opportunities to explore beyond the mechanical aspects of the canal zone. At the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, the canal’s role in creating unique ecosystems became clear. The flooding of the Chagres River Valley to create Gatun Lake had transformed hilltops into islands, creating natural laboratories for studying evolution and adaptation. Among the most memorable moments was witnessing the intricate society of leaf-cutter ants at work – watching as one determined ant transported a brilliant pink and purple flower twice its size back to its colony. This seemingly simple act illustrated the complex relationships that exist in the canal zone, where the flower would become part of the sophisticated fungus farming system that sustains the entire ant colony.

These different scales of observation – from massive ships being guided through locks with millimeter precision, to tiny ants engineering their own agricultural systems – highlighted how the Panama Canal zone is much more than just a shipping channel. It’s a place where human engineering and natural systems have created something entirely new, a unique environment where global commerce and tropical ecosystems coexist in delicate balance.

A Photographer’s Guide to the Canal Zone

After experiencing the Panama Canal from the air, underwater, and at ship level, I’ve discovered that each perspective reveals different facets of this engineering marvel. While my aerial work and archaeological documentation each captured unique elements, I found that sailing through the canal itself offered the most complete photographic opportunities.

During my transits aboard the National Geographic Sea Lion, I discovered that time-lapse photography was my most effective storytelling tool for documenting the lock process. What I witnessed took hours to unfold, but through time-lapse, I could capture both the methodical precision and the grand scale of these operations in a compelling way.

When I moved back to still photography, for storytelling I found myself constantly switching between my wide-angle 16-35mm lens and my telephoto 100-400mm. The wide-angle became my go-to for establishing shots – I could capture our vessel in context with the massive lock structures, show the mechanical mules in action. When I switched to my telephoto, the story became one of compressing the perspective to emphasize the true scale of ships moving through the locks.

On land, particularly during my visits to the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, I found myself reaching for different tools. My macro lens became essential for documenting the incredible biodiversity, from those industrious leaf-cutter ants to the delicate rainforest flowers. The telephoto proved invaluable for capturing the howler and spider monkeys moving through the canopy, something I never could have captured with a shorter lens.

Through these different focal lengths and techniques, I found myself piecing together a visual narrative that spanned from the microscopic to the monumental. The canal zone’s story isn’t just about massive ships and locks – it’s about the intersection of industrial might and natural wonder, of global commerce and local ecosystems. Each lens choice became a way to reveal another layer of this complex story, from the determined march of a leaf-cutter ant to the graceful passage of a container ship through the locks. 

Today, as the Panama Canal faces unprecedented challenges, I find myself reflecting on the multiple perspectives I’ve been privileged to document. From the air, the canal appears as a testament to human ambition, carving a path between oceans. At water level, aboard the National Geographic Sea Lion, it reveals itself as a precision instrument, where every inch matters and every drop of water counts. And underwater, in the green pea soup near the canal’s entrance, the remains of Henry Morgan’s fleet remind us that this strategic crossing has long been a nexus of power and control.

Conclusion

The canal’s current challenges are as complex as its history. Water shortages have forced restrictions on ship traffic and draft depth, while increasing global trade demands push the system to its limits. Meanwhile, debates over Chinese influence at the canal’s terminal ports and calls for changes in canal control echo historical struggles over this crucial waterway. Just as Henry Morgan’s privateers once sought to wrest control from Spanish authorities, modern powers continue to recognize the canal’s strategic significance in global trade and security.

My images from these various assignments now take on new meaning. The aerial photographs of Gatun Lake, once simply showing the canal’s central reservoir, now document a water system increasingly stressed by changing climate patterns. The lock photographs demonstrate the engineering marvel that has served global commerce for over a century – a system now being tested by larger ships and greater demands. The photographs of leaf-cutter ants and howler monkeys remind me that the canal zone is not just an engineering achievement or geopolitical chess piece, but a unique ecosystem where human ingenuity and natural processes have found an intricate balance.

Perhaps most striking is how the past and present continually interweave here. The Chagres River, once the route for Spanish gold and the target of privateers, now serves as the lifeblood of global commerce. Fort San Lorenzo still stands watch near the canal’s Atlantic entrance, though today it guards camera-wielding tourists rather than gold-laden galleons. As the canal faces modern challenges – from climate change to international politics – these layers of history remind us that this crucial waterway has always been at the intersection of commerce, power, and adaptation – a legacy that continues into an uncertain future.