The alarm clocks went off at 4 am this morning as today’s itinerary is a 90 mile leg outside the reef in the open ocean.  Because we want to be able to see the reef and coral head hazards at our destination, we leave early in order to arrive when the sun is still high and gives good visibility into the water.

A morning like this morning offers one of the major pleasures of cruising.  Up on the flying bridge tropical breezes are soft on the skin.  A huge yellow full moon was just setting into the black predawn sea, and shortly thereafter a brilliant sunrise of pinks and golds lit up the dramatic clouds over Grande Terre’s rugged coastline and illuminated the spray of the surf breaking against the reef with an irridescent glow.

We laid over an extra day at our last anchorage near Voh, waiting out a weather system that promised 30 knot winds and an unpleasant upwind passage directly into the swells.  As it is, we’re slogging into steep short seas that break across the bow and pelt our bulletproof glass windows with spray.  Still we’re enjoying the rough ride in air conditioned comfort, coffee pot and fridge at hand.

Yesterday during our stopover Mike and I took an afternoon walk to stretch our legs but we underestimated the distance to our goal – a building with a white tower in the distance.  By the time we finally achieved it we had trudged nearly four miles including a few unintended detours.  Our reward, besides the bucolic scenery, was a decent little grocery store in town where we stocked up on a few necessities for our rapidly dwindling larder.  We also chugged down a liter of water and shared a chocolate croissant (a staple in all the markets here in New Cal) before hiking back another three miles.

Tomorrow we’re planning another scuba dive off the barrier reef.  Since La Dieppoise we have chalked up an additional six dives, mostly in the Loyalties.  The dives have been relatively unremarkable, taking into consideration that we have had so many opportunities for spectacular scuba diving over the past few years the bar has truly been raised for our expectations.  The one outstanding exception was Recif Shelter (Shelter Reef), a pinnacle rising up from the ocean floor some 2 1/2 miles offshore of Lifou.  We were fortunate to have calm seas and Rod was able to anchor AVATAR close to the pinnacle on the nearby sandy bottom and Mike and I initiated the dive from AVATAR‘s deck.  It was a beautiful spot absolutely teeming with enormous schools of fish, lush with coral, and sparkling with sunlight and clear blue water.

On my first photo dive this trip the underwater camera housing flooded but thanks to Mike quickly spotting the flashing leak alarm light I was extremely fortunate to salvage both camera and lens without damage!  After that no more untoward incidents.  Here’s the promised slideshow of my underwater photographs from the Loyalties.  They were posted accidentally a few slideshows ago, so my apologies if you’ve already seen them!

We plan to arrive back in the marina at Noumea on Sunday, giving us a day to regroup, pack, clean and organize before heading home.  Rod calculates we will have covered 1,000 nautical miles on our six-week circumnavigation of New Caledonia.  Most likely this is the last post of the cruise.  When I get home to high speed internet I’ll post a high quality slideshow of the images from this trip.

Au revoir

Carol

slideshow (requires Flash)

Happy Valentine’s Day to all you folks in the Northern Hemisphere.  For those is the Southern Hemisphere, sorry I’m a day late. The photo above is a naturally occurring mangrove swamp near Voh in New Caledonia, not too far from where we are cruising now.  I didn’t take the photo as AVATAR lacks the requisite helicopter, but it seemed an appropriate image for the day

We have concluded our whirlwind tour of the three main islands of the Loyalties – Maré, Lifou, and Ouvea – where we did a lot of scuba diving (next post); then sailed a few days ago across the approximately 80 miles of ocean separating the Loyalties from the northwest coast of Grande Terre (I just discovered that this is the official name for New Caledonia’s main island.  Also that it is the third largest island in the Pacific after New Zealand and Papua New Guinea).  The east coast of the big island is the wet side, with steep lush mountainsides, raging waterfalls, limestone spires near Hienghene, and an enormous river.  As we rounded the northern tip of New Caledonia the mountains became more barren and dry; not too different from some of the landscapes we see in the desert southwest and Mexico!

The weather has turned gray and rainy on us – with some distant lightning and thunder and drenching rain squalls.  Gives us a good opportunity for a bit of housecleaning and laundry!

Here’s a few landscapes from the last week.

Slideshow (requires Flash)

We have been spending the last couple of weeks exploring New Caledonia’s satellite islands. First we departed Noumea and sailed down New Cal’s west coast to Ile des Pins (Island of the Pines) just off the southernmost tip of the main island, and now we are cruising through the Loyalties, a string of islands some 80 miles offshore of New Cal’s east coast.  Tomorrow we will cross back to the mainland and sail around the top of the big island, ultimately circumnavigating all of New Caledonia.  A stretch of good weather has cut us a break, allowing us to venture farther afield.  Bob McDavitt, the marine weather guru from New Zealand, claims that the huge hurricane Vasi that hit Australia has sucked so much energy out of the southwest Pacific that no more cyclones will be able to form until March!

Besides the distinctively tall narrow pine trees for which Ile des Pins is named, the most dominant visual impact is the vast expanses of intensely turquoise water, intermingled with deeper aquamarines and the mossy greens that betray shallow submerged coral reefs.  On a sunny day the result is a blindingly beautiful expanse of intermingled colors.  Even the small low flying tradewind clouds overhead reflect the sea and take on its color, winging overhead like fat fluffy parakeets.

We spent several days in the main anchorage, Baie de Kuto, adjacent to a curving beach of fine packed sand that fronted a resort, a very small community, and the century old ruins of a prison complex.  Each morning a large ferry arrived from Noumea and departed again that same afternoon, and one day an Australian cruise ship and its multitudes of disembarking passengers spent the day.  For ourselves, we got on a brief fitness kick and burned quite a few miles hiking.  One afternoon Mike and I walked the coast highway from Kuto to the town of Port de Vao and back again, a total of 7 miles. Another morning all three of us hiked to the top of Pic N’ga, the highest point on the island, for the spectacular view.  The humidity here is about 85% and the temperatures in the high 80s, low 90s – we definitely suffer from the heat on these climbs as a result, but it’s preferable to the hard freeze in Tucson!

Here’s a photo of Mike celebrating his arrival at the summit.

The inviting sandy beach also offered a good opportunity to attempt water skiing again.  I have been making sporadic efforts to water ski for the past six years since we started cruising, never with any success. We put in a good effort here and I managed to get part way out of the water several times interspersed with three-point touchdowns before cartwheeling back into the shallow water.  Florida boy Mike was rusty but soon able to get up on the skis and serpentine back and forth across the wake of the dinghy.  Rod as always showed us up on his turn, using only one ski and carving back and forth across the wake generating rooster tails of spray!

It took a week for my arms and shoulders to recover from the effort – the happy ending is that a couple of islands later (Lifou) we found another inviting sandy shore and this time I actually made it to my feet and stayed up!  My first time water skiing since I was nine years old on vacation in the Florida Keys!  We are of the unanimous opinion that not too many old ladies in their sixties take up water skiing as a sport.

Slideshow (requires Flash)

The hiatus on the blog is because we are finally out cruising for real! The four cyclones that kept us close to port have all gone their separate ways. The monster category 5 Yasi is punishing Australia as I write but at least it is far away from here!

LE PHARE AMÉDÉE
So with a nice weather window we have been exploring the shores of New Caledonia. We visited a popular day destination for Noumeans – the beautiful Amédée lighthouse on Amédée Island that marks the entrance to the passage of Boulari, one of only 3 natural passages through the reef surrounding New Caledonia.

We arrived at the small island on a Sunday and it was packed with tourists who had arrived by tour boat, jet ski, or (like us) private yacht. The place was buzzing with activity, including a reggae band and 5-minute helicopter rides, so we stayed aboard AVATAR and waited until the end of the day when the hordes departed and then we had the place to ourselves. We walked the perimeter along the prescribed boardwalk through the nesting grounds of bridled terns. They raise just one chick per family in burrows in the sand. In the winter (it is summer here now, of course) they vacate their underground nests and hundreds of sea snakes move into the neighborhood in their stead! (Footnote: at Noumea’s informative public aquarium we learned that the venom of a sea snake is more toxic than a cobra’s and that they can open their mouth wide enough to bite a person anywhere on the body, not just an earlobe! Also that they can swim backwards. So hands off, but it remains true that they are mild mannered and non-aggressive).

The lighthouse caretaker gave us access to climb up the interior all the way to the observation deck at the top. I counted 231 steps but the guidebooks claim 247. I wonder if the missing 16 steps belong to one last flight to service the light itself or it I really counted that badly! My photo of the lighthouse lantern taken when it activated at dusk shows thick branches and twigs on the roof – part of an osprey’s nest, not sloppy maintenance!

We brought a bottle of wine along with us and toasted to fair weather from our spectacular vantage point overlooking the sea, the setting sun and AVATAR bobbing at anchor below. Then down again before it became too difficult to navigate the narrow spiraling staircase in the dark!

Le Phare Amédée, as it is named in French, at 56 meters tall is the second tallest lighthouse in the world. It was constructed of iron in Paris as a demonstration in 1862 and stood on display in the city as a popular landmark for a couple of years before it was dismantled and sent on its way via barge down the Seine to the port of Le Havre and then across the ocean to New Caledonia in sections, a cargo of some 1200 crates weighing a total of 388 tons. Parisians missed their icon so much the Eiffel Tower was constructed in it’s place! The lighthouse was reassembled in New Caledonia and first lit on the saint’s day of the empress Eugénie, wife of Napoléon III.

DIVE ADVENTURES
Next morning we took the dinghy to the outer reef and Mike and I did a warm-up scuba dive just to get back in practice. Next day we located another dive site, the sunken French WWII patrol boat La Dieppoise. It was deliberately scuttled here in 1988 to create an artificial reef and dive attraction. Usually the wreck is marked by buoys but there were none in sight, possibly because of the cyclone, so we had to locate it ourselves. Rod and Mike coordinated a search pattern using a combination of the depth sounder and the Furuno “searchlight” sonar to find an aberration that indicated the location of the ship. When they were confident the Dieppoise had been pinpointed we dropped anchor in the sandy bottom nearby. Then Mike and I launched our dive directly off AVATAR, taking the “giant step” right off the side into astonishingly neon blue water, then pulling ourselves hand over hand down the anchor chain until we reached bottom at 26 meters. There we found ourselves in the midst of a big school of barracuda and a shark on the outskirts. Using Mike’s dive computer compass we set off in the preplanned direction and sure enough, in 40 yards or so, the bow of the ship loomed up out of the blue gloom.

It was an excellent dive, the sunken ship a haven for fish. Clouds of tens of thousands of small fish fry swirled in the recesses and larger fish had staked out their territory in the prolific food chain. Corals and other marine growth had gained a foothold, but the structure of the ship was still intact. Mike and I cruised slowly down one side of the wreck and back again up the other, watching our depth and bottom time, then navigated by compass again back to the anchor chain. Later when I logged the two dives in my logbook I discovered La Dieppoise had the distinction of being the 100th dive of my second diving career!

The photo above is uncropped and unretouched – taken on one of my morning photokayak (new term) excursions. Anyone guess what it is? If you give up, click here for the answer:-)

Photokayaking usually takes place about 5:30 in the morning as it is just getting light. By 6:30 the magic has gone. Early on a good day the coming sunrise casts a soft pastel tint on the clouds and usually the wind has died down creating glassy reflective water. The birds are awake, chirping in the bush. Herons and ospreys are out foraging for breakfast. Gulls and terns fly overhead.

Except for the birds the only other sounds are the lap of water against the bottom of my inflatable kayak, the swoosh of the surf, and the occasional splash of fish feeding in the lagoon or a shower of minnows arcing out of the water. Actually there is quite a lot of noise, but it seems silent. No engines, no voices, nothing artificial except the click of my Nikon.

Occasionally the photo ops aren’t there and then I opt to stow the camera in my dry bag and start paddling for exercise. The other morning I paddled nearly 2 hours before breakfast, circling the perimeter of the bay where AVATAR was anchored. Just guessing maybe covered some 6 – 8 miles with only one timeout for a rainbow photo op!

The slideshow below is a collection of recent results from my morning excursions. If I can get the Internet to cooperate I will eventually post a link to the high resolution slideshow here as well.

So we decide it’s a good night to take ourselves out to dinner – relieving Rod of cooking duty and Carol of the dish washing regime.

Step One – AM: Move yacht some 10-20 miles to anchor in vicinity of resort.

Step Two – Early PM: Dinghy into shore early to make reservations for dinner at targeted resort. Return to yacht and entertain ourselves for the rest of the afternoon. Starving by 5 PM.

Step Three – 6:45 PM: No one in New Caledonia eats before 7 PM. About 15 minutes before scheduled reservations at 7 PM (we will turn out to be the first arrivals) we shower and dress aboard yacht in preparation for dinner. In my case simple knit pullover dress, carved native necklace, waterproof plastic sandals (Crocs) and a foul weather jacket. Pouring down rain 10 minutes before scheduled departure.

Rain stops. Makes no difference. Either way pile into wet dinghy and race across bay from AVATAR to resort on far shore. Land dinghy on sandy beach, leap from dinghy into shallow surf and all three of us barely manage to wrestle heavy dinghy to high ground and tie off to a fallen tree log. This is the reason for wearing plastic (waterproof) Croc sandals! Knit dress hiked up to above knees.

Trudge across resort grounds to restaurant, pausing to slosh feet and Croc sandals in freshwater stream to eliminate sand between toes.

Enjoy a lovely gourmet meal, menu in French so guessing somewhat as to our choices. Two bottles of French wine, stimulating conversation, elegant environment, slapping at mosquitoes that hopefully are not carrying malaria.

Pay the bill and hike in the dark back to beach where dinghy is tethered. Wrestle dinghy back into water, again sloshing around in shallow surf wearing waterproof Crocs, knit dress hiked up above knees.

Fire up outboard motor and aim military grade spotlight into water off bow, watching out for shallow water and coral reef hazards because low tide. Frighten fish with powerful spotlight – they leap out of the water criss-crossing in front of us.

Race across bay clutching painter and handgrips on dinghy pontoons to avoid sudden ejection into water while continuously scanning water just ahead with said military grade spotlight. Arrive at AVATAR where we clamber onto swim step and rinse legs, feet and shoes with hand held freshwater shower.

Crash into our welcoming beds – this is a typical scenario for dining out while cruising. Written while still under the influence!

Cheers!

The internet has failed us as we cruise farther afield.  This morning (Saturday) in hopes of a dinner out we have relocated to a bay with a resort on the shore.  With civilization our cell service seems to have marginally improved, offering a window of opportunity to catch up on the posting.

Wednesday was our first big hike after training on the sidewalks of Noumea.  Our destination was a lighthouse on Cap Ndoua.  From AVATAR we traveled by dinghy to the starting point and located a track, although at first the path was streaming with runoff from the previous bad weather.  Eventually it connected to a washed out dirt road that accessed the lighthouse on the summit, making navigation simple.   Unfortunately one of the curses of starting at sea level when hiking rugged country is that the uphill part always comes first!

The landscape here is dramatic; volcanic in origin with raw red soil and pumice, exposed and eroded, ground cover clinging as best it can.  There are carnivorous plants here, their tummies filled with insects and lids to prevent escapees!

Overall we hiked some 2.5 miles gaining only net 644 feet in elevation (as recorded by the GPS app in my iPhone) which was a disappointment statistically speaking!  With the steep uphill climb and the spectacular scenery, it felt like a much more heroic accomplishment.

Not the least of the challenge was returning to the boat, our hiking boots caked with red clay and our pants streaked red as well from ground contact in the slippery parts.  The tenacious pigment stains hands and feet orange and paints the deck with rusty streaks.  Before we ever set foot aboard AVATAR we beached the dinghy and jumped in for a swim, fully clothed, in an effort to scrub ourselves clean and enjoy a refreshing cool down at the same time.