Finally, Another Sailboat!

Wednesday, June 5th – Today we plan to go a short distance north to the little town of Poum which is touted as the place to stop for supplies on this northwestern end of Grand Terre. According to our Rocket Guide, it has a small convenience-style grocery store, a post office and even some medical. Best of all, it has a Wednesday fresh produce market. This is Wednesday, and not that we really need anything, it is always wise to top up on veggies and fruit whenever possible. It is another dismally grey day so a little excitement aboard Avante would do us good. Just as we are preparing to start the engine and lift the anchor, winds pick up and bring in rain. Yuck! Who wants to get started in this? The First Mate offers a boat-cooked breakfast, and The Captain readily agrees. By the time we are finished, the rain has gone, though the low grey ceiling still hovers above us.

1200 – Motoring into the anchorage below Poum, a loud siren suddenly starts blaring. Are they signaling our arrival? Invaders are we? We have no idea but, finally, decide it must be some kind of noon alert. A photo in our guide shows a substantial metal and concrete wharf where dinghies can be tied. Approaching the wharf in the dinghy, we get our first inkling that things may not be as advertised in Poum. The wharf is beyond use. Concrete is gone. Metal is twisted, broken and rusted through and through. Whenever was this section of the Rocket Guide written? At least 10 years ago, we believe. It is a good thing nothing much changes under water so that even old charts can be trusted as mostly accurate.

A medium-sized, decrepit-looking island freighter is pulled up with its ramp on the beach, for there is no way it could use the dock. A group of 10 or so men are lounging on shore. We exchange “Bonjour’s”. One young man even comes down to help with our dinghy. Though most Kanaks speak French to varying degrees, we have found that their accent is so different from our school-taught French that it is difficult for us to understand them, and many appear to have the same problem with us. The First Mate can’t help but smile when she imagines how completely off the mark our mangling of the language and the accent must be to them. Thus our attempts to converse do not get much further than our hellos and acknowledging that we are from the USA. That does get us wide grins so at least there are still places in this world where being from the good ole USA is a pleasant diversion.

With money, shopping bag and camera, we are off to find the convenience store and the outdoor market. Nothing is as our guide book said. Though it is Wednesday, there is no produce market. There is an area up from the beach with wooden structures that look like they were open-air market cubicles. All is overgrown and long unused. Allegedly, small cruise ships used to stop here. No cruise ship has been here in years. The gas station and the store are closed, each surrounded by a mesh fence. Perhaps the store opens sporadically when the supply truck comes in or perhaps not at all. Whatever has happened here? We can see people in their yards and hear the voices of children, but if it were not for that, it would feel like we were walking around a discarded film set. At one time, energy had been expended to landscape the front yards along the main road, but all is overgrown and weedy. What has happened to the place and the people?

We do not know for sure, but we assume the economic downturn of this town coincides with the decline in the mining industry here in New Caledonia. From roughly 1960 to 2010, mining in these mineral rich mountains, especially that of nickel, created an economic boom of sorts. There was work, and though low on the pay scale, the locals could have jobs. The French also put in the accompanying infrastructure of roads, schools, medical and necessary stores. We assume that life must have been pretty good for the surrounding area. A cruise ship does not make stops at run-down, poor areas if it can help it. 2008 signaled the start of the decline in the mining industry. World-wide demand had lessened. Many of the smaller mines closed, and the ones that remained open lost money. Adding to that was increasing agitation from Kanaks against the French occupation of their lands and the foreign owning and running of the mines. Vandalism was on the rise, especially of equipment around the mines. As the unemployment rate skyrocketed and the monies that had gone into supporting communities decreased, these communities suffered.

Traveling up the coast, we have stopped over night in several ore loading ports, and we have been amazed at the total lack of activity. We saw only one ore freighter anchored below a loading dock. None were seen out on the waters. Up in the mountains, we could see the high-beam security lights of the mines at night, but there was nothing else to show that the mines were up and working. It was obvious that the mining industry was in a wide slow-down, but walking through the diminished and diminishing area of Poum, the affect of that downturn hits us as a sobering fact. As with many rural areas, we also assume that many former residents have migrated to the city, Nouméa in this case, to find work when those local mine jobs ceased. The First Mate wanted to cry for the sadness of it all.

When we got back to our dinghy, we had to wait, as the boat ramp was in use. Several locals had just returned in their fishing boat and were putting it on a trailer to haul it out of the water. The small utility truck pulling the trailer, however, was unable to get enough traction in the sand to get up the boat ramp. Its wheels just spun and dug holes. Since there were now at least 25 men standing around observing this and the unloading of the island freighter, we expected that several men would jump in and help push. No way! They had a better solution. A second truck was called in, and the two trucks in tandem fishtailed their way up the boat ramp.

As we were launching our dinghy, the island freighter got underway and headed for Iles Belep with its exhaust putting out a stream of black smoke. These small ships are the supply lifeblood for the smaller islands.

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By the time we climbed back aboard Avante, it is too late to motor on to the next anchorage. If we push aside the sights on shore, it really is a pretty spot to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening.

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1500 – A sailboat sighting! This is the first sailboat we have seen since we left Nouméa 9 days ago, and it looks like it is heading our way. It is and anchors about 75 yards from us. With no flags or name visible on the boat, we have no idea from where they hail.

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In about an hour, a young couple motors over in their dinghy. Gwen and Martin on s/v No Soucy. Not only are they coming over to say hello, they have brought a container of fish steaks. They caught a Tazar or a Striped Spanish Mackerel on their way into the bay. Would we like some? You bet! Merci beaucoup!

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What a delightful young couple they turn out to be! They are French but have been living in Nouméa for a number of years. They both work in the telecommunications industry and are taking 2 years off to travel via their boat first to Vanuata and then onto Australia. Our talk ranges on, and the next thing we know, we are inviting them to stay for dinner here on Avante. We’ll sauté their freshly-caught fish and add in rice and salad and wine! The First Mate gave Martin free hand with the cooking of the fish. After sautéing the fish in butter, he simmered it in coconut milk before serving. It was absolutely perfectly delicious! On into the evening we talk until we suddenly realize it is 10:30, and all is well — well past normal cruiser bedtime that is!