Exploring Baie de Prony
Thursday, October 11th – Last night’s local forecast was for light winds. The First Mate does not consider the 18-knot winds that blew down on us all last night to be light winds. There is a time and place for everything. 18 knots on a brisk down wind sail is delightful. 18 knots at night at anchor near reefs is not.
The Baie de Prony is a huge bay with several lobes and an island for added interest. The bay is a local storm retreat when conditions get bad out in the lagoon. At the very end of the bay are several trails worthy of hiking or so our guide book says. A cascade and hot springs round out the activities. What more could we want? We are ready to explore!
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Leaving Ilôt Maître, we raise sail and are soon heading toward Canal du Woodin. We pass Ilôt Porc-Epic and are soon entering the canal.
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We only have 30nm to go, but it takes us all day to reach our destination. To The First Mate, it was a very long day. To The Captain, it was a glorious day as we sailed down the canal (“against current”, reminds The First Mate) tacking back and forth (“and back and forth ad infinitum”, adds The First Mate) to our destination.
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As Ilôt Casey is an underwater nature preserve, several mooring balls have been provided for boaters to use in an attempt to protect the delicate coral. There is one ball left, and we grab it. As The First Mate always does after being given the OK sign to turn off the engine and secure the helm, she sits back to survey her surroundings. While watching the swing of the boat as it settles into is mooring, her eye is caught by the vista in front of her. This is one of the prettiest spots we have been to here in New Caledonia, and New Caledonia does have a lot of pretty spots. The gently mounded island is covered with rich green foliage. Birds are singing out a wonderful evening chorus.
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Sheltered behind the island, it is peaceful and warm. Really warm! For the first time since setting sail here in New Caledonia, we are able to eat our evening meal on deck. Enjoying the twilit warmth, we sit on deck well into the evening savoring our wine.
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Friday, October 12th – So delightful is this place that The Captain decrees that we can spend a whole day here, but first we must get off this mooring ball! Low tide is approaching and without a breeze to hold us off, we have drifted way too close to that reef. When 11 feet shows up on the depth meter, it is time to leave. Obviously, nobody was thinking about a boat with a 9-foot draft when this ball was secured in this spot. Fortunately, a ball in the center of the bay has been vacated, and we quickly head over to it before someone else arrives to take it.
Several trails crisscross the island leading up and around its 3 peaks. We read, also, that there is a closed resort on the island that supposedly someone hopes to reopen one day soon. We tie our dinghy up to an old wharf and walk up towards the resort. It takes little imagination to see what this resort once was and a lot of imagination to see what it could be. This place is not just closed, it is abandoned, defunct, decaying and vandalized. Reopen? No. Raze it and start all over again.
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One thing, however, is still standing and even working. A solar telephone booth! Our arrival startles an Australian couple from one of the boats in the bay who were placing a phone call. They obviously were in the know on this phone.
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Turning left, we take the first trail we see and follow it upward. Views of the bay below us open up at various spots. Across the bay from our island is the main land of Grand Terre.
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All too quickly, we hike out of the cool shade. The First Mate remembers all too well how hot this red clay soil can be from their mountain hike on Ile de Pins.
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Three hills on this island, and each once is barren and exposed. We are reminded of our hike among the volcanoes of Isabella Island in the Galapagos. Desolate, barren, exposed and hot! Not much could or would grow in this soil as mineral rich as it is supposed to be, but we are at least pleased with the breeze we receive once we gain the pinnacle. The views aren’t bad either!
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Plant or animal, The First Mate is always awestruck at the will to fight for survival.
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What goes up, must come down. We wind our way down from each peak, returning for a little while into the shade and, to our delight, back down to the coolness of the water’s edge where we rest.
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From one peak, we look across at the vast complex that is one of the nickel mines and processing areas that the French have built. The First Mate is surprised at how huge it is, but then she really should not be. Her home in the San Juan Mountains is laced with mines, and many of them were just as expansive and just as destructive.
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Down from our final peak and back to the shore, The First Mate is even able to talk The Captain into a bit of a rest. Take your shoes off, sit on a rock, dapple your feet in the water. Relax, Dear, we’re in no hurry!
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We
continue on a delightful trail through heavy woods that run along the
shore. Both of us are glad that we are finishing our hike in this cool
greenness rather than trudging down a hot, dry, red-soiled peak.
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An amazing tree with twisted grey trunk looms ahead of us. It’s huge, towering high above us. Thick roots form its trunk, many hydra-like thick branches reach out in all directions, and a burst of small bright green leaves crowns its efforts. What character! What strength! “It’s a survivor”, thinks The First Mate.
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Returning to the dock, we are accompanied by a dog that apparently belongs to a family camping on the island. He follows The Captain out onto the wharf, but his real interest is not in The Captain. It is in the fish he spies in the water. A moment of homesick longing hits us as images of our Jake scouting for fish are recalled. Just like Jake. Look at that intense focus!
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Back on the boat, we swim and shower off the deck washing away the heat and dust of our trek. Marvelous! Later, we eat on deck under the stars, occasionally following the lights of an infrequent car as it winds its way up and down the mountainous coastal road of Grand Terre across the bay. Dinner tonight is Duck à l’Orange. The duck is a bit tough, but the sauce is delicious. The First Mate thinks that she probably should have cooked it longer, but we are conserving propane. Why? Because we are not able to easily refill our propane tanks here in New Caledonia. They will only refill French tanks with French fixtures. We could buy a French tank full of propane, but the French tanks are too big to fit into our propane locker. Thus, the propane that remains in the tank we are now using and an untouched full tank in the locker are all we have until we reach Australia. The First Mate is not a microwave aficionado, but she is now learning it can do more than warm baby bottles and reheat leftovers.
Saturday, October 13th – A fly woke us this morning! Nasty, p-s-s-ing thing! As all positives must have at least one negative, the negative to this delightful spot is flies. They were not a bother when we first arrived, but that was getting on toward evening when these pests do go to sleep. We ignored them as best we could during the day attacking them with fly swatter and spray. We’ll live with them. They’ll go away as soon as it gets dark. Screens we have, but we were reluctant to deploy them. The pests do and did go to sleep at dark, but the early “bird” that woke us up at daylight was soon followed by the rest of his friends and family.
The morning is overcast and still. We drop off the mooring ball and peacefully sail to the northern end of Baie du Prony. Motoring slowly into the shallow bay at low tide, there are three other boats already anchored there. We pick a spot a little further out from the other boats and head for it. Suddenly, the water shallows, and The First Mate quickly reverses the engine, slowing the boat as we scrape into sand. A bit of a sand bar stuck out much further than we had expected. Obviously, the other boats here have shallower keels. We back up and motor out of there relieved to quickly be out in 30 feet of water. We note, however, that we do not have enough room to swing on the anchor there and will have to go much further out where we anchor in 60 feet. This is the end of the bay that is often used as a storm refuge. The thick mud bottom offers superb holding, and there is room for a number of boats. Other than that, it is uninspiring. The stillness and the grey, overcast day make it feel like a stagnant backwater. We are not here to admire the view we tell ourselves. We are here because a cascade and hot springs are up the river at the end of this bay.
The First Mate goes below to prepare lunch and is aghast at the number of flies. The stillness has brought out the army! What useful purpose Mother Nature saw in the creation of these pests is beyond comprehension! Nevertheless, we must deal with them. Reluctantly, we dig out the screens. This is done “reluctantly” because the screens on this boat are a pain in the neck. The port lights (windows) are made by Bowmar, a company located where, The First Mate is left to assume, they must not have flies, mosquitos or other such noisome entities. The screens are held in place with a simple screw and lever. However, it takes 2 people working in coordination to attach the screens. The screen must be held against the window frame from the inside of the boat while the lever and screw that hold it in place must be adjusted from the outside of the boat. Quick! Move away! Don’t touch it. Don’t jar it. This is a precarious installation subject to self destruct at any second. What brilliant engineer designed this system?
Now, consider this additional fact: One cannot close the windows with the screens in place. Can that be believed? If it starts to rain, one person must go outside to release the lever, while the other person removes the screen from the inside before it falls and dents cabinet or floor or knocks over something. We can then close the window. We have the most backward, inconvenient screens ever devised! The First Mate remembers way back when we first bought the boat. Though The Captain was totally uninterested at that time (or anytime) in screens, she was. She unearthed them to figure out how they worked. Appalled at what she discovered, she told The Captain. “You have to be doing it wrong,” he stated and dropped what he was doing to show her how to install the screen. — Once in a while, she is right.
Screens in place, both The Captain and First Mate launch an all out assault on the pests with fly swatter and spray before The First Mate will agree to pull out the preparations for their mid-day repast.
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Lunch concluded, we dinghy up the river to the little dock that leads to the hot springs. It’s low tide, and it takes some tricky navigation to get ourselves up the river without grounding on rocks or sand. Try as we might, the last bit is done by foot. The Dingbat floats daintily behind us as we plod ahead through red foot-sucking mud.
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We follow a walk up to the hot springs which has been fortified and built something like a spa. We are impressed, but to our disappointment, there is nothing hot about this hot springs. The water is tepid, not even close to bathtub temperature. The Captain came here for a dip in the hot springs so in he goes. The First Mate thinks, “why bother?” and The Captain soon confirms her opinion.
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Next stop: the cascades. We continue up past the hot springs following a trail. At one point, we are gingerly edging around slimy sticky red mud, but we get to the cascades. They, too, are neat, but nothing much to write home about — so we wouldn’t. Just note: we were there!
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We return to the dinghy and motor back down the river. The overcast skies finally give way to their promised rain. Back on Avante, we consider returning to our mooring ball at Ilôt Casey, but the rain squashes that idea. Instead we hunker down in the boat. Screens were hastily removed with the rain, and the flies soon return. They don’t seem to like being out in this weather any more than we do.
The First Mate is on a mission to use as many of her canned meat products as she can. Conflicting information on Australian customs says all canned meat products may be confiscated. Tonight, she is experimenting with the canned beef that she had been given by the one sailor on his way to Australia. The canned beef turns out to be to be a stringy, fatty mess that probably contains parts of the poor cow she doesn’t want to hear about. Sauté it with onions and eggplant. Throw in a can of tomato sauce and a can of mushrooms. Add in some seasoning to taste and Voilá! Dinner! It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, though the best part was the salad of fresh tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella and basal.
Sunday, October 14th – A yucky day. What more can be said? We motor south to the mouth of Baie du Prony to position ourselves closer to Ilôt Maître where we plan to spend a last night prior to our return into Nouméa to prepare for our departure to Australia. Overcast blankets us all day with occasional drizzles. Another day to hunker down. The First Mate continues work on the almost done Fiji blog. By evening, a light rain is falling
Monday, October 15th – Another miserable day! We wake up to soaking rain and fog. Plans derailed. Who wants to head out in this? We decide to delay a day. It’s a Bacon and Eggs Morning! As a special treat for The Captain in return for a day spent at anchor, The First Mate always makes his favorite breakfast. The Captain gets his breakfast with rashers even! Rashers are much preferred to bacon. We wonder why this cut has never caught on in the States.
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day gets no better. In fact it gets worse. Rain continues,
temperatures drop and stormy winds blow in at up to 22 knots in the
afternoon. The only up note to this totally miserable day is that all
Fiji blogs are now finished, proof-read and edited by The Captain, and
ready to launch into the ethernet. We spend another uneasy night
buffeted by high winds.
Tuesday, October 16th – Yet another miserable day dawns, but in the day’s defense, one must remember that not all days of Pacific Island cruising are under bright blue, sunny skies, and not all trade winds blow a balmy 15 knots. The Captain goes forward to pull up the anchor knowing that after all this time down there in this red mud, he is going to be faced with a gooey caked-on mess. It takes quite a while to wash off all that mud. We needed a firehose instead of the minuscule stream of water pumped out of the washdown hose!
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In a cold rain and in 18 to 22-knot winds, we endure a downwind sail up the Canal du Woodin to Nouméa. Within range of Port Moselle, we call for a berth. There are 2 marinas in Port Moselle, but only one takes visiting boats and only on one dock. They are fully booked. We are number 5 on the waiting list with no hope of an opening today. With the rain and the winds, we suspect that those in the marina are choosing to stay put until the marina office gives them their “little pink slip” telling them that their 3-day maximum stay is up. Will we even be able to get in tomorrow?
We detour to Ilôt Maître where we grab a mooring ball. By now, The Captain has seen enough heavy boats on these mooring balls to feel confident in their ability to hold Avante. We just have to grab one that is on the outer fringe and far enough away from the reef not to have to worry during low tide.
Moored
to a ball in 20-knot winds or at anchor in 20-knot winds — that seems
to be the story of our cruising out here in New Caledonia. We have
spent more nights at anchor exposed to high winds than either of us can
remember. Beautiful, idealic Pacific islands may abound here, but these
islands are all so low that they are little more than bumps in the way
to these high-powered winds. Their landmass does block the ocean
swells, however, and that’s appreciated.
Wednesday, October 17th – Blue sky! Sun! 20+ knot winds! Not everything can change. A call to Port Moselle Marina puts us on stand-by. We wait. They have a slip for us! We’re on our way. We make the short sail across to Port Moselle in those 20+ knot winds with only the jib flying. Radioing in to the marina, we receive our berth number. It’s an outer berth which is good, but as we enter the harbor, it becomes readily apparent that winds have slackened only minimally and will be blowing Avante sideways as we approach the dock. The First Mate, at the helm, is most anxious. As our berth comes in sight, we see that it is a double berth already shared by a wide catamaran that is taking up more than its half of the berth. From The First Mate’s perspective, it is barely wide enough for us, just barely. She is not happy and tells The Captain so. He tells her to go ahead and try. We can always abort landing. “In these winds?” she thinks, but dutifully she rounds the corner, lines up attempting to factor in the sideways push of the wind. She cannot do it and knows she could never do it. In frustration, she gives the helm to The Captain. She’ll handle the lines. Attendants from the marina are there to give us a hand. Captain at the helm, he backs Avante up and then motors in to turn and line up with the berth also factoring in the sideways push of the 20-knot wind. Our berth is just too narrow and will not allow him to crab into wind. He concedes that the only way to get Avante into this berth with these winds would be to come in like a jet landing on a carrier, grab the wire and stop. Obviously, we do not want to come into the berth that quickly hoping that the attendants get the line secured before our bow impacts the dock. By now, other people from nearby boats have come over to lend a hand, but we tell the attendants to call the marina to request another berth if there is one. We are given the end tie on the same pier. The Captain motors around and lines up. He has to comes in fast and line up with dock as if we were going to ram it knowing that the winds will push our bow off quickly. He gets us on the dock perfectly. The First Mate throws the lines expertly, but even with 4 quick hands to grab and tie off the lines, Avante still starts to get blown off the pier. It’s a struggle to pull her in and secure her! Once done, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Tension over.
Back in Nouméa, our mission is to stock up, fuel up and get ourselves and Avante ready for the passage to Australia. The last thing to be done before leaving will be to check out of New Caledonia with customs and immigration. Once that is done, with the right weather window, we will head off. Our final days in New Caledonia are here, and under returned blue skies, we both hit the ground running.