New Caledonia - Noumea
15th and 16th November 2005
At sea. Eating and drinking and regulating our days by meal times, times to visit the bridge and see that the boys are doing OK – that sort of thing. Looking forward to Noumea.
17th November 2005.
We are getting slightly ahead of our schedule and our now likely to take our pilot around 0500. There is talk of a strike in the port, so no-one really knows what is going to happen. We rise early – not so difficult as the clocks keep going back an hour and we tend to wake early. As dawn breaks, we take the pilot and approach New Caledonia’s port and capital of Noumea.
The first thing you can see as you get nearer is smoke from the four chimneys of the nickel plant – the country’s largest industry. The mine is the world’s largest open mine and it produces staggering amounts of raw nickel, and exports unrefined and refined nickel. The smoke and fumes blanket the town, which must cause conflicts with the country’s second largest industry of tourism..
There seems to be no evidence of strike, and the docks are full of workers waiting to unload our containers and load others. Still no-one is sure how long we’ll be in port. A little frustrating as the original schedule suggests that we will have a day and a half here. If this is to be the case, we’ll rent a car and head off somewhere, find a B&B and return the next morning. But the best we’re told is to telephone the ship at 1800 and we’ll be given an updated time of departure.
Into town, money from the machine, check emails and wonder about the shape of the day. We quickly decide that Noumea is a small and fairly charmless town. I’m sure the inhabitants like it, but I wouldn’t cross the world for it. Lots of souvenir shops and hi-fi sales rooms. The central ‘parky-bit’ is laid out for a festival. Unusually, the stalls are not trying to sell anything, but are informative – scouts, holiday villages for the under-privileged, red cross first aid etc. Much nicer than the usual sort of thing. A quick visit to the tourist office informs us that there are no interesting [to us] busses as the longer distance ones are only one a day in each direction. With a possible departure tonight, we can’t take the risk. The town’s hop on – hop off tourist bus is only FCP1000 each but we find a cheap car hire place that’s only FCP 4000 for the day, so off we go in an air conditioned Renault.
Everything is angled towards the tourists, but its not oppressive. A cool drink at a thatched beach bar and a little more aimless driving to try and get a taste of the island. We’re having a good time, but become aware – as elsewhere in France – that around 1150 the traffic speeds up with workers going home for lunch, and those who can’t make it home are sitting under trees with their sandwiches. Clearly we need to act swiftly if we are not to miss our lunch. After recent routine this is unthinkable!
The map that came with the car is – of course – sketchy. Still, Liz does a grand job and suggests a road to turn off as it looks promising. Down we go, and whilst not exactly promising, we do find a rather abandoned looking hotel. Down the dusty drive and the hotel itself also looks abandoned. A couple of the beach-side chalets have washing outside. Hotel workers or long stay guests? Wandering through the abandoned and open to the breeze reception, we are greeted by a charming young woman who asks us if we want lunch. The whole place looks so seedy we think – without discussion – that we’ll have an aperitif and then go and find somewhere else.
As we sit on the terrace, we change our minds. Old moody French songs are playing, the wind sighs gently though lots of open windows, and a glance at the menu of the day board tempts us. So, Liz orders a Pastis, but as I’m driving, I’ll wait for the wine. Our charming waitress explains that the owner is unexpectedly absent and she’s not familiar with aperitifs. Liz explains that she wants it in a glass with ice and enough room to add water. Back comes a Ricard that would fell two of us.
The food is fabulous. Warm goat’s cheese salad, followed by fish and crème brǔlee. The setting is even better. Our waitress doesn’t know how to open a bottle of wine, so my experience comes in handy! This is real tropical paradise stuff. A little faded is now very desirable as we can imagine Bogart coming though the door – or should that be Alain Delon. The hotel has stern notices that the pool is only for guests at the hotel, and we discover that having eaten there, we count as guests. Whoopee as that means we’re staying and I can have a Calvados before driving many hours later. It will have to be many hours as the size of the drink makes ship cocktails seem mean, and British pub measures wouldn’t even wet glasses that size.
So out to the pool. But first into the sea. I’ve checked, its lukewarm, so in we go. It certainly is warm, but its full of stones and after swimming around for a while in fairly shallow water, the pool seems a better option. There’s coral in the sea and both of us get badly scratched by merely brushing against the wretched stuff. It wasn’t even the pretty coral. The pool is very desirable, and chatting to another user, it seems that many people come for the winter. July in France and December in New Caledonia. I can certainly see the attraction in that.
Happily our work-everywhere phone has decided to work here, so we phone the boat and discover that departure is 1200 tomorrow. Liz goes to see if we can rent a room. Sadly, its fully booked – as are all the hotels nearby.
We could chase around and find somewhere no doubt, but we already have a comfortable room and board and unless we think we’ll find somewhere better, we might as well go back. Taking a very roundabout route to see a little more of the island. Huge green mountains, windy roads and then suddenly a small French housing estate in the middle of nowhere. These Territoires Outre Mer are sometimes very peculiar. Tropical island with French policemen. A bit like the Spanish bobbies in Gibraltar. Notices in phone booths in French, and local dialling to France on the other side of the world.
Return the car, and walk back through the exhibition again. Past the cable laying ship that’s here, and in though the dock gates for a cold supper.
18th November 2005
It’s a good job we didn’t stay away as the boat is now scheduled to leave at 1100 and we have to be back at 1000 – or earlier to be safe. Just time to go to the craft workshops oddly located at the dock gates. Sadly, despite signs promising them to be open, they’re closed. We don’t much fancy the computer exhibition, and so take a decent cup of coffee [the coffee on the boat is not to my taste] and back on board.
It’s at times like this you can see why we need a pilot. Leaving to the south west means we have to pass through the reefs. New Caledonia is in the largest lagoon in the world, we are informed by our 1st Officer, whose wife and family live here. I suppose he should know. Anyway, we have to pass though areas that look very treacherous with only tiny buoys to mark the channel.
Leaving early means that we’re likely to arrive in Sydney early which is causing one of our fellow passengers, Heide, some concern. She’s getting off in Sydney and has made pick up arrangements according to the existing schedule. It may affect us also, as we have booked our accommodation in Melbourne according to the same schedule. Well, we will or we won’t. We’ve become quite laid back about it.
The Utrillo cinema club watches Once Upon a Time in the West. I think it must have been the director’s cut as it was nearly three hours long. Very pretty, but too long for the plot, and for our bedtime.
Off to sea again.
At sea. Eating and drinking and regulating our days by meal times, times to visit the bridge and see that the boys are doing OK – that sort of thing. Looking forward to Noumea.
17th November 2005.
We are getting slightly ahead of our schedule and our now likely to take our pilot around 0500. There is talk of a strike in the port, so no-one really knows what is going to happen. We rise early – not so difficult as the clocks keep going back an hour and we tend to wake early. As dawn breaks, we take the pilot and approach New Caledonia’s port and capital of Noumea.
The first thing you can see as you get nearer is smoke from the four chimneys of the nickel plant – the country’s largest industry. The mine is the world’s largest open mine and it produces staggering amounts of raw nickel, and exports unrefined and refined nickel. The smoke and fumes blanket the town, which must cause conflicts with the country’s second largest industry of tourism..
There seems to be no evidence of strike, and the docks are full of workers waiting to unload our containers and load others. Still no-one is sure how long we’ll be in port. A little frustrating as the original schedule suggests that we will have a day and a half here. If this is to be the case, we’ll rent a car and head off somewhere, find a B&B and return the next morning. But the best we’re told is to telephone the ship at 1800 and we’ll be given an updated time of departure.
Into town, money from the machine, check emails and wonder about the shape of the day. We quickly decide that Noumea is a small and fairly charmless town. I’m sure the inhabitants like it, but I wouldn’t cross the world for it. Lots of souvenir shops and hi-fi sales rooms. The central ‘parky-bit’ is laid out for a festival. Unusually, the stalls are not trying to sell anything, but are informative – scouts, holiday villages for the under-privileged, red cross first aid etc. Much nicer than the usual sort of thing. A quick visit to the tourist office informs us that there are no interesting [to us] busses as the longer distance ones are only one a day in each direction. With a possible departure tonight, we can’t take the risk. The town’s hop on – hop off tourist bus is only FCP1000 each but we find a cheap car hire place that’s only FCP 4000 for the day, so off we go in an air conditioned Renault.
Everything is angled towards the tourists, but its not oppressive. A cool drink at a thatched beach bar and a little more aimless driving to try and get a taste of the island. We’re having a good time, but become aware – as elsewhere in France – that around 1150 the traffic speeds up with workers going home for lunch, and those who can’t make it home are sitting under trees with their sandwiches. Clearly we need to act swiftly if we are not to miss our lunch. After recent routine this is unthinkable!
The map that came with the car is – of course – sketchy. Still, Liz does a grand job and suggests a road to turn off as it looks promising. Down we go, and whilst not exactly promising, we do find a rather abandoned looking hotel. Down the dusty drive and the hotel itself also looks abandoned. A couple of the beach-side chalets have washing outside. Hotel workers or long stay guests? Wandering through the abandoned and open to the breeze reception, we are greeted by a charming young woman who asks us if we want lunch. The whole place looks so seedy we think – without discussion – that we’ll have an aperitif and then go and find somewhere else.
As we sit on the terrace, we change our minds. Old moody French songs are playing, the wind sighs gently though lots of open windows, and a glance at the menu of the day board tempts us. So, Liz orders a Pastis, but as I’m driving, I’ll wait for the wine. Our charming waitress explains that the owner is unexpectedly absent and she’s not familiar with aperitifs. Liz explains that she wants it in a glass with ice and enough room to add water. Back comes a Ricard that would fell two of us.
The food is fabulous. Warm goat’s cheese salad, followed by fish and crème brǔlee. The setting is even better. Our waitress doesn’t know how to open a bottle of wine, so my experience comes in handy! This is real tropical paradise stuff. A little faded is now very desirable as we can imagine Bogart coming though the door – or should that be Alain Delon. The hotel has stern notices that the pool is only for guests at the hotel, and we discover that having eaten there, we count as guests. Whoopee as that means we’re staying and I can have a Calvados before driving many hours later. It will have to be many hours as the size of the drink makes ship cocktails seem mean, and British pub measures wouldn’t even wet glasses that size.
So out to the pool. But first into the sea. I’ve checked, its lukewarm, so in we go. It certainly is warm, but its full of stones and after swimming around for a while in fairly shallow water, the pool seems a better option. There’s coral in the sea and both of us get badly scratched by merely brushing against the wretched stuff. It wasn’t even the pretty coral. The pool is very desirable, and chatting to another user, it seems that many people come for the winter. July in France and December in New Caledonia. I can certainly see the attraction in that.
Happily our work-everywhere phone has decided to work here, so we phone the boat and discover that departure is 1200 tomorrow. Liz goes to see if we can rent a room. Sadly, its fully booked – as are all the hotels nearby.
We could chase around and find somewhere no doubt, but we already have a comfortable room and board and unless we think we’ll find somewhere better, we might as well go back. Taking a very roundabout route to see a little more of the island. Huge green mountains, windy roads and then suddenly a small French housing estate in the middle of nowhere. These Territoires Outre Mer are sometimes very peculiar. Tropical island with French policemen. A bit like the Spanish bobbies in Gibraltar. Notices in phone booths in French, and local dialling to France on the other side of the world.
Return the car, and walk back through the exhibition again. Past the cable laying ship that’s here, and in though the dock gates for a cold supper.
18th November 2005
It’s a good job we didn’t stay away as the boat is now scheduled to leave at 1100 and we have to be back at 1000 – or earlier to be safe. Just time to go to the craft workshops oddly located at the dock gates. Sadly, despite signs promising them to be open, they’re closed. We don’t much fancy the computer exhibition, and so take a decent cup of coffee [the coffee on the boat is not to my taste] and back on board.
It’s at times like this you can see why we need a pilot. Leaving to the south west means we have to pass through the reefs. New Caledonia is in the largest lagoon in the world, we are informed by our 1st Officer, whose wife and family live here. I suppose he should know. Anyway, we have to pass though areas that look very treacherous with only tiny buoys to mark the channel.
Leaving early means that we’re likely to arrive in Sydney early which is causing one of our fellow passengers, Heide, some concern. She’s getting off in Sydney and has made pick up arrangements according to the existing schedule. It may affect us also, as we have booked our accommodation in Melbourne according to the same schedule. Well, we will or we won’t. We’ve become quite laid back about it.
The Utrillo cinema club watches Once Upon a Time in the West. I think it must have been the director’s cut as it was nearly three hours long. Very pretty, but too long for the plot, and for our bedtime.
Off to sea again.
posted by Liz and Kit at 5:25 PM
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