Noumea Revisited

Our hotel is between the palms.

Travel dates 21st and 22nd August 2009
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After a pleasant night at the excellent Hotel Banu (review awaiting approval on Tripadvisor) we headed south to spend our final two New Caledonian nights in Noumea.

We took our time, just enjoying a relaxed drive.

The picture exemplifies the Grand Terre west coast north of Noumea outside the towns: few dwellings, open spaces, hills and mountains rising from the pasture but very few animals to be seen in those pastures.

Then we were back in "civilisation". After some of the hotels we stayed in during this trip we thought Le Pacifique was marvellous. Yes, I'm getting soft. The pool was the view from our window. Here are the intrepid wanderers, off to see Noumea.

Once we had settled in we wandered the city with no particular place to go. I pretended I knew where I was going, so I was headed for the docks to get to the market when we came across this hilltop Catholic shrine. At least I could see the docks from here. When we finally reached the docks, we could have been in the Mediterranean; extensive marinas and lots of expensive pleasure boats.

The views that the saint was surveying were superb; the shrine was still in use, the small grotto had several candles in it.

The shops were modern and well-stocked with items from all over the world but mainly New Zealand and France and, of course, China. The Kanak penchant for Rasta items was everywhere, with Bob Marley popular as a symbol. So was Che Guevara; see the white T-shirt. Two very different heroes. I respect Marley's music and Guevara's ideals. But I'm less impressed by Marley's penchant for pot and Guevara's bloody methods. I hope the Kanak youth are able to use some discrimination in following their heroes.

Down-town Noumea could have been any French town. This is a typical down-town street.

Next to the dock was Le Marche, the market, in full swing. Not an enormous market under cover, but a very wide range of fruits and vegetables, meats, fish and bakery goods and of course souvenirs and knick-knacks. Compared to many markets we have been to in our travels it was very civilised and orderly with no-one aggressively pushing their wares or harassing obvious tourists like ourselves. The souvenir prices for cowrie shells, carved totems and similar items were many times higher than those we passed on roadside "honour" stalls in the north.

As we left the market we heard a lot of noise and noticed a demonstration heading towards us on the highway beside the market. It was quite large with several thousand demonstrators but very orderly. There were three trucks with sound systems regularly spaced along the group of marchers with people making speeches from the trucks as they steadily rolled along. The majority of marchers were Kanak but there were a few Caldoche among them. Caldoche is the term used for the new Caledonians of French or European ancestry.

The demonstration went on for several hours, winding throught the streets north of the market in an older section of town, with the trucks stopping for the speakers to address the crowd at regular intervals. Between speeches music entertained the marchers. The procession was followed at a discreet distance by a fleet of police vehicles and several walking police, but they weren't over-bearing in their presence. I had no idea what it was about, so I looked it up since. The background story is here. It looks like they have a pretty good cause to complain to me.

That night we were on our way home from dinner when we saw this guy. New Caledonia was expensive, but haircuts must be really, really expensive.

The following day we had a little trouble getting out of the hotel car-park; as we reached the side street we found it barricaded with witches hats down the centre. It was a bit unclear which side of the road was available for us to drive on. Eventually a friendly guy saw our confusion and showed us the way. We had not realised that one of the biggest sporting events of the year, the local marathon, was taking place that morning. We had seen signs and bill-boards with pictures of athletes, but not realised their import. We tried not to run over any of the competitors.

Then we headed south, intending to head for the South-east tip of the island, but never quite made it. Instead we wandered some of the southern villages before heading home.

At one stage we stopped at an enormous supermarket several kilometres south of Noumea in a building like a giant warehouse. It was like a combination of a K-mart and supermarket in one space. Again, very French in style and layout. For example, the red meats were nearly all displayed in large cuts, such as a full rump (or flank) with a butcher standing by to slice it to your needs. There were very few of the plastic-packaged slices of meat we see in supermarkets at home. On the other hand, the cutting board the butcher was using looked rather unappetising as it was crawling with flies, which he casually brushed away as he tossed a lump of meat down for slicing.

The range of packaged fish was excellent; I would love to be able to buy a marlin/mahi mahi/tuna shashlik like this to throw on the barby at home.



This was the spot where I had my last New Caledonian (and quite pleasant) beer; life is tough. The final views are the trusty little chariot that took us around the island, the sunset from the hotel, and a glimpse of the lagoon as we departed.



Departure was little annoying. There are so many good things about New Caledonia, but the understanding of many people within the local tourist industry of the needs of tourists is not one of them. I've tried not to concentrate on the negatives in these blog reports, although you will find some negatives in the hotel reviews, but some of the annoyances will have surfaced. At the airport they included the duty-free shop where I wanted to get rid of the last of my Pacific Francs. The clerk was happy to accept part cash, part card, but the remainder after cash was less than XPF1000 which is a little over AU$14. She refused to accept less than 1000 for the card. Nowhere else had we come across this minimum, but I had to buy extra to meet the requirement. Trivial, but annoying.

Earlier, Air Calin opened check-in late; no big deal but there was already a long queue waiting at the right time. However, they were good compared to the girl handling the departure passport check. She left a long queue waiting outside her closed door for another hour until less than an hour before departure time. We presumed she enjoyed a leisurely afternoon siesta. No-one let the waiting queue, for the only departing plane, know what was happening or when the door would open. Again trivial but annoying. Little annoyances add up over a week and they were just a few examples of many which displayed the local attitude to tourists.

It's a lovely island, like two nations - Noumea and the rest - in one locality and the people we met who weren't in the tourism industry, and some who were, were also lovely. But I probably won't be back even though it's only two hours away. Despite that, I'm glad I went.

Cheers, Alan

Poindimié and Nickel Mines to La Foa

Travel dates 19th and 2oth August 2009
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We left around 9 am after a leisurely breakfast, cooked on my trusty little skillet. The dawn view was glorious, interrupted by a couple of inquisitive deer. We decided to make it a short day's drive, intending to have a relaxing afternoon at the next town. The scenery was similar to the day before with the road separating the steep hills from the beautiful beaches with occasional small coastal plains. The small Melanesian "Tribu" villages were more frequent and so were the pedestrians, with always a smile and a small wave acknowledging us as we passed.

A pleasant observation was the care taken in caring for the departed in New Caledonia. The grounds were always well looked after and it seemed that every grave had fresh floral tributes. These were typical of every cemetery we passed.



One of the little things we noticed was the minimal use of motor vehicles in the Province Nord. There seemed to be few cars used by the villagers and even fewer motorbikes. I rarely saw a truck on the roads, which surprised me because I expected to see goods delivery trucks and mining trucks. Maybe we just picked a quiet week. I doubt that I saw half a dozen trucks on the road in the entire trip outside Noumea.

This flower intrigued me; I have no idea what it is, it just looked interesting. Again, that feeling of Bali Hai was in the back of my mind as I wandered down this coast and stopped to look at some of these beaches and scenes. I almost expected to hear Mitzi Gaynor and Rossano Brazzi bursting into song beside us. It really is a beautiful and almost unspoiled coast. Until you get to the mines.

We spent the night in Poindimié at La Tapendouri Hotel; not our best decision. My review is on Tripadvisor. The town was interesting; another small town with very limited tourist facilities. We had lunch at Le Rasta. The food was very ordinary, overcooked chicken and chips, but the surrounds were fascinating at first. Very Caribbean and Marley, with appropriate T-shirts and souvenir goods. They became less fascinating when three dogs, including one that looked extremely unwell, decided to join us at the table. They were friendly but very inquisitive and appeared very unhygienic. The staff didn't seem to care; possibly they owned the dogs. We had finished, so we left. We tried them again for dinner, as there were limited alternative choices, but the dogs beat us to the table so we made other arrangements.

Next morning we continued south. These "honour" sales tables appear regularly beside the road all the way down the east coast, mainly near tribu villages. Sometimes they sold fruit or vegetables, often growing in pots, but more often they sold carved small totems or shells, usually cowries of various shapes. The prices were occasionally marked on them and the customer is trusted to leave the right cash.

Creeks and rivers, some quite large, regularly crossed our path. Very often the river and the local town shared their name; this was the entry to Ponérihouen.



We stopped at the only proper cafe I can recall in Province Nord for a pleasant and surprisingly cheap coffee. The guy using the computer appeared to be getting wi-fi - but I couldn't detect it. Wrong spot in the room?



I took the second picture because of an unusual spindly pine tree that appeared regularly along the road. Very high, very slender, usually alone but occasionally in small groups as a copse.

After Houailou (no, don't ask me to pronounce it) we started to see more signs of mining until we were eventually driving through the middle of the Poro Mine. The road was sealed and good but became steep and winding. The mine was enormous but there was very little activity. Possibly this one is played out; there is a much bigger and newer mine at Goro further south. There seemed to be no effort made at rehabilitation of the resulting lunar landscape.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. To get an idea of the scale, look for the car near the top right in the fourth picture.





There were small cairns of rocks at several points on the road verges, then we noticed this collection which appears to be a shrine of some sort. I don't know their meaning and I could not find it on the net; if anyone knows I would appreciate the information.



Although we saw very few cars or trucks while circling Grand Terre we saw several abandoned vehicles in roadside ditches. Some were damaged, but some were not. Maybe it was too expensive to tow them away instead of leaving them when they become uneconomically repairable. This one was a bit extreme as there had obviously been a recent crash and the vehicle had burnt out on the road before it was pushed to the side and abandoned.

After leaving the Poro mine well behind us we encountered this conveyor as we left the East Coast to head towards the West. It went for many kilometres and eventually climbed the side of a mountain and disappeared over the top, connecting another inland mine to the coast.




En-route to La Foa in the heart of the mountains we paused here to look at this magnificent flowering Poinciana Tree (I'm open to correction, I think that's what it was - looked good anyway) and noticed a waterfall in the far distance in a valley.



We stayed the night in La Foa, which is a pleasant town about an hour north of La Tontouta airport. La Foa's main claim to fame was as the headquarters for the US forces on New Caledonia in WWII. It is claimed that over a million US servicemen passed through New Caledonia at that time. The Hotel Banu was used as a headquarters and the walls were covered with photos from that era and later photos of senior French visitors. The ceiling was almost as interesting, with a collection of over 4700 caps from past travellers. We stayed in a pleasant bungalow for two in the grounds and had a good dinner at the Vietnamese restaurant opposite the hotel.



The child-care centre was on the road behind the hotel. Coming from a country that seems to get more politically correct and over-sensitive every year, I smiled at the title.

Tomorrow, back to Noumea.

Cheers, Alan

To Hienghène via Poum

View Across Hienghène Harbour

Travel date 18th August 2009
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We left Koumac about 10 am and headed north. My plan was to cut straight across the top of the Island and omit the 100km diversion to Poum, heading for Hienghène via Ouegoa and Pouèbo. I thought the extra distance would make it too long a day’s driving.

I neglected to take account of the rather sparse use of road signs in the far North, so it wasn’t until I saw a sign indicating we were passing Malabou Beach Resort that I realised we had missed the turnoff to Ouegoa about 40km back. Not a great distance from here Cook, the Great Navigator, discovered and named New Caledonia. Obviously, I am not a descendant. It appears we were fated to see Poum, the most northern town on Grand Terre, so I drove on.

It was a small, pleasant beach-side village. This marker was next to the Mairie by the beach. We saw very few people, apart from the only inebriated person I saw on the whole trip, happily meandering all over the road as he walked away from town about a kilometre south. We missed him, both coming and going. He seemed very happy but I doubt he was aware we were passing.

The Melanesian Village also appeared deserted, but I’m sure there were people there. I was interested in visiting the village but there seemed to be no-one to ask. Many kilometres later I realised I should have asked at the Mairie.

We headed back towards the turn-off we had missed, over 50km back, after debating whether to try the alternative dirt road. We decided it wasn’t worth the risk and eventually discovered the correct turnoff at Chagrin; well named in the circumstances.

Again we had the road to ourselves en-route to Ouegoa, rarely seeing another vehicle or a person. There were occasional farm-houses, usually set well back from the road. The country gradually changed, becoming hilly and more rugged as we skirted the Northern tip of the central mountains. I had expected to see a larger town at Ouegoa but it was really just another small hamlet. We stopped at the general store for a quick look around and to look at the food on sale at the snack bar. We didn’t find it appetizing (we had had our fill of burgers by now) so we wandered on until we found this lovely little spot not far east of town.

Well, it was lovely until you noticed the rubbish; it was obviously a popular spot for the locals for picnics but no-one bothered to clean up after them. But we ignored that and enjoyed the solitude and the babbling brook.

Lunch was delicious; a length of crisp on the outside, soft on the inside French baguette with cheese, ham and onions. The French-influenced cooks of New Caledonia may not yet have learned how to make good Pizza, but they can certainly bake a baguette. This was the third time I had eaten that lunch but the first time I tested afterwards. My diabetic friends will understand why the resulting 9 mmol/l (160mg/dl) made it the last time I ate that for lunch.

Shortly after lunch the road changed and started climbing steeply, then changed to gravel as we encountered a long stretch of road-works. The view as we crested the final rise was quite spectacular; this is the section of the shallow lagoon that Cook passed through as he discovered this island in 1774, just north of Balade. The water changed colour quite distinctly showing the different depths.

His ship, the Resolution, must have had quite a shallow draught to be able to navigate these waters. To be honest, he didn’t show a lot of imagination with names for islands; he also named the New Hebrides, New Britain and New Ireland on that voyage. Of course, he also named Australia originally as New South Wales.

We slowly wandered on past coastal tribal villages, seeing more people and noticing a significant change in crops. The hills dropped steeply to the water, with only short and limited stretches of coastal plain. The crops were more coastal and tropical: bananas, coconuts, paw-paws, manioc and taro (fibrous tubers for starch). There were no defined or fenced fields but many small plantations of banana or coconuts along the road verge; or paw-paw and other crops set a short way back. There were many coconuts lying scattered on the ground but I got the impression they were not free to be collected but owned by the local tribes, so we didn’t pick them up. We started to pass more locals who invariably smiled and raised a hand in greeting as we passed. The men wore simple western clothes: shorts with T-shirts or similar, although younger men often added Rastafarian headgear or dreadlocks. The women, young or old, all wore variants on a shapeless but colourful shift, muu-muu style.

Within a short time it was like driving through a set for “South Pacific”. I'm sure I saw Bloody Mary several times, but Liat only rarely. I didn't see any Marines, but there were certainly lots in the area in WWII as we discovered later at La Foa.

We continued down the coast, past the Catholic Mission where some earlier missionaries became dinner, and the township of Pouèbo. We stopped often just to pause and look at some of the spectacular beaches and occasional small waterfalls. We noticed a cloud of smoke in the distance, gradually getting bigger until we saw this fire roaring up the hillside near Tao, about 20km north of Hienghène. It was out of control, but nobody seemed remotely interested in it.

There were villagers working in a tiny banana plantation only a short distance down the road, but they were ignoring the blaze. They know their own land so maybe they were right to do so; but it’s hard to watch an uncontrolled bushfire through Australian eyes.

Along the way we paused often. There were regular pleasant road-side parks where we could stop to look at the scenery or take a picture of the coast. Shortly after the fire we stopped for a brief picnic to look at this waterfall, which eventually descends to the creek. It’s hard to give the scale from the photo. The small coloured dots at the bottom left of the falls are people.

One of the things I had learned on Grand Terre roads was to watch the road like a hawk, for pot-holes, road-works, coconuts, children and other interesting obstacles. Which was just as well when we came around a corner after descending a hill and suddenly found that the road disappeared straight into the water. I’ve often been on ferries in Australia, but we usually get a little more warning. I was fine but my lady’s tan went a little pale for a while.

The ferry crossed a beautiful stretch of water propelled by one of these engines on each side; one for each direction. It was free and provided a leisurely and scenic break in the journey.

We spent a fruitless hour in Hienghène attempting to find reasonably priced acceptable accommodation; the gites mentioned in my six-year-old Lonely Planet guide appeared to have closed. We asked at the very modern and very new information centre and were directed by the girl there to the gite across the road. The hostess showed me a grotty room, with a couple of tired single beds and facilities shared between four other rooms for XPF4000; I didn’t bother showing it to my wife. Back at the information centre the girl was adamant that was the only accommodation in town. Maybe she was family.

As we headed out of town we stopped at the lookout on the southern headland of the harbor.

It is one of the few spots I have been in the world that could rival the scenic coastal beauty of my favourite spots on the east coast of Australia. Yes, I know I'm biased. It was getting late in the day, so the light was fading but it was still spectacular. To the west is a beautiful harbor, to the north the opposing headland and to the east some islands straight out of a Hollywood movie. We were back on the set of South Pacific looking at Bali Hai.

One odd thing occurred to me as I looked west. Despite the marina we saw back at Koumac, we had seen almost no boats at work or play in New Caledonia. This harbor was deserted, and the only boat we had seen in the water since Koumac, despite driving along at least a hundred kilometres of coastline, was a man in a dinghy near the shore at Poum. It seemed strange for an island nation. A harbour like this in Australia would have been crowded with craft of all types.

After fruitlessly searching further south for a gite we eventually gave in and opened the wallet and stayed at the Koulnoue Resort, about 15 minutes drive south of Hienghène. I have given my report on Tripadvisor. It is also in a gorgeous location, the views are from our room in the evening and the morning.