Expanding the Panama Canal was almost as Herculean a task as building it in the first place. Some 11,000 workers moved 150 million cubic meters---6.4 million truckloads in all---of earth and rock. They poured 4.4 million cubic meters of concrete and reinforced it with 220,000 tons of steel.
Roughly 14,000 ships pass through the 50-mile Canal each year; the expansion will increase that by 4,750 vessels after the project wraps up later this month. It's taken nine years, and photographer Tom Fowlks has followed it from the start.
Fowlks, whose work has appeared in WIRED, first visited Panama in 2007 after an article about expansion piqued his curiosity, and started seriously shooting in 2012. He's taken more than 10,000 photos, visiting the country nine times to document the project from the camps, the dredging vessels, and even a tugboat. "It’s been a tough but rewarding adventure," Fowlks says. "I may have missed chapters, but I’ll be able to look back on this and to say I was there, for the better part of it."
His sweeping photographs take you right into the action. He puts you in muddy valleys overhung by cranes and in the vast concrete caverns where millions of gallons of water will fill and empty the new locks. You marvel at the enormity of the massive steel doors—each weighing three or four tons—that will let freighters as long as 1,200 feet pass through the canal.
WIRED talked to Fowlks about what it was like covering a project for nearly a decade, how he endured the sweltering heat, and about that crafty boat captain who tricked him.
What inspired you?
When you’re a little boy you play with Tonka trucks and stuff, and here I was as an adult wanting to see that on a real-life scale. It was all the biggest machines, all the biggest excavators and dump trucks and cranes. I was like, "God, I’d really love to be in the impact zone of all that machinery."
You first visited Panama in 2007 to see the original canal. What was that like?
It’s a little bit like pulling up to Old Faithful. You just can’t help but be drawn in to see what it looks like when a ship is coming through the locks. There’s not too many other things on that kind of scale. You can go see a huge dam, but there’s not a whole lot happening, whereas here, stuff is constantly happening.
You photographed the excavation of what would become the Cocoli locks in 2012. How was it?
It was March, during the dry season, when it’s particularly hot. I was required to wear long pants, a safety vest, heavy boots, a hard hat—all this stuff that you would never imagine wearing at the equator. Everything was happening really fast --- I only had an hour to go through these pre-designated points. It’s even hotter in the construction area—I suppose just because maybe there’s no vegetation, shade, or breeze. After an hour I looked like I had fallen into a swimming pool. I was soaking wet from head to toe. I wasn’t sure if my film and slides were ruined. The pictures came out fine, but I remember being extremely exhilarated and also anxious and a bit nervous, because it was the most chaotic environment I’d ever been in.
You made eight more trips to Panama. How did the project progress?
I kept in touch with my contact at the canal authority. It got to the point where I would say, "Hey, I’m coming down." And he would say, "Well, what do you want to do?" Whatever I said, he would make it happen. He would also offer suggestions.
What was the most interesting thing you shot?
There were two visits where I had access into the culverts, which are the channels where the water fills and drains when the locks are functioning. They’re the size of subway tunnels. You’re in there and it’s all cement and they’ve got a little bit of lighting because you need to be able to see where you’re walking. But you kind of feel like, "Wow, this is where millions and millions and millions of gallons of water are going to be flowing one way or another to fill those locks. And at this moment I’m just standing here."
You photographed from the Quibian 1 dredger three times.
The dredger was fascinating. It’s a supporting character in the daily operation of the canal, and yet, it would not be possible to operate without it. It was impressive to me that they would stop operations and bring the operating end, the ‘teeth,’ up so that I could see it first hand, spinning with chewed-up earth flying everywhere.
What was the funniest experience of the project?
A tugboat captain who tricked me. He got out of his seat and got me to sit down and was like, "Alright, now you’re driving the tugboat." I panicked. It’s a $60 million machine. And he’s like, "Don’t worry, just go straight."
How did you approach the project aesthetically?
The approach has been entirely reactionary. You don’t approach the canal or expansion on your terms. You are subject to the Canal’s terms. If it’s raining, you have to shoot. If it’s hot, you have to shoot. If you have one hour, you have to get the shot.
Any plans to photograph the rival canal Nicaragua’s trying to build?
No. I had a few people try to suggest that, and I'm like, "You’ve gotta be kidding me." This project has broken my back. I’ve not visited Nicaragua, and I’m sure it’s a lovely country, but I imagine that project would be more brutal than anything I’ve seen in Panama if they ever got it going.
