On this visit to New Caledonia, we are determined to go out to the small grouping of islands known as the Loyalties which lie approximately 150 nm east of Nouméa. Needless to say, it is a long trip, made more painful by the fact that we had already sailed not far south of the Loyalty Islands on our way into New Caledonia. We could not legally stop there then because we had not cleared customs. For that, we had to continue on to Nouméa, the only port of entry in New Caledonia. Thus, we must retrace a familiar, but not very interesting path, back along the south coast of Grand Terre. From there, we will sail to a lovely island called the Ile des Pins where we will spend several days, before looking for a good weather window to continue the last 100 nm to the Loyalties.
Ile des Pins – C’est si bonne!
Thursday, October 13th – After a final stop at the marina office to pay our bill and check our email, at 0940, the lines are dropped, and we motor out to the fuel dock. A boat is already on the fuel dock, and with room for only one boat near the pump, we slow down to wait.
When the boat moves on out, we move on in to top up all our tanks and auxiliary containers.
An attendant comes forward to turn on the pumps. Fueling has begun. The attendant notices our flag. “American?” he asks. “Oui,” we acknowledge. He lights up with a radiant smile, a thumbs up and then starts asking questions. We have no idea what he is saying. Kanaks learn their tribal language as toddlers. 
The accent he puts onto his school-taught French is beyond our ears. Finally,he resorts to one word. What is it? Rumpf? Bump? No, it’s Trump! This man wants to know what we think of the man running for President of the United States. We shake our heads showing a strong negative and give an emphatic thumbs down. He smiles and then turns very serious. “Rachis,” he solemnly states. What? “Rachis. Rumpf rachis.” Racist? “Oui, Rumpf rachis!” Here in little New Caledonia not exactly in the main stream of current affairs, a poor, under-educated local offers a crucial critique of one of the candidates running for the presidency of the United States. We are surprised by this man’s interest, but upon further thought, we are not. The negativity and shocking opinions being expressed in this campaign are causing great concern abroad. We have seen it personally in the countries we have visited since the beginning of the year. Not a one of our New Zealand or Australian cruising friends have a good thing to say about candidate Trump. Initial humor turned to incredulous shock and deepened into growing concern. It was the same with people we met in Fiji, and now here is the same negativity voiced by a simple fuel attendant on the small island of Grand Terre, New Caledonia. Well, dear concerned man, a racist isn’t our only fear. As I write this, we are two weeks from election day. Hopefully, it will all end there with Rachis Rumpf getting so soundly beaten he can’t do more than sputter.
Lines let loose, we slowly motor out Port Moselle’s narrow opening. A sign tells us that we are leaving Port Moselle. “Thank you for your visit, good winds and see you again soon!” Yes, we’ll be back.
We slowly motor through the harbor and line up to sail roughly down the middle of Petite Passe marked by red and green poles. Well beyond Petite Passe and the shallow area off the point, we turn south to begin our journey.
In the distance, the resort area of Anse Vata can be seen with its many high-rise buildings. A tourist sailing boat is in the bay.
The resort island of Ilôt Maître can be seen on our right. Its picturesque bungalows span outover the water. What happy memories we have of anchoring off this island! Cruiser-friendly, they had a well-kept barbecue and picnic area, and for the price of a beer or glass of wine, we could connect to the internet while sitting in the breezy lounge area. Will we be revisiting this time? We think so, but not for a while.
1050 – Cruising by Ile aux Canards, we swing east and have just enough wind angle to raise the jib and motorsail in a brisk SE wind.
1210 – Upon approaching Ilôt Porc-Épic and turning SE into the wind, the jib must be furled. Unfortunately, it will stay that way for the rest of the day. The SE winds at 15 to 22 knots keep blowing straight down on us.
1420 – We turn east and enter Canal Woodin. At the other end of Canal Wooden is the Baie du Prony where we plan to anchor for the night, but it does not take long for The Captain to change his mind. Not only are we fighting the wind, but we now have 2 knots of current flowing against us. With the engine running at normal cruise power, we are not making more than 3.5 knots. It will be a long slog to get to Baie du Prony. Forget it! There is a good bay just ahead that offers a safe haven for the night.
1510 – We are anchored in Baie Ire just off Canal Woodin. It’s a delightful spot, very pretty, and very quiet. There are no other boats to be seen, and the shore is wild and free of habitation. The red earth of the many slides in the hills is a vibrant contrast to the lush greenness of the vegetation. Looking around us with contentment, we are pleased that adverse wind and tide drove us to find this place.
Friday, October 14th – With over 40 nm of water ahead of us to reach Ile des Pins, we are up and motoring out by 0705. What a difference a day makes! Wind is light and current is with us. Instead of slogging along at 3.5 knots, we are racing through Canal Woodin at 8.5 knots. Go, Avante, even if you are under motor! The SE wind continues light all day. Gentle winds were not on the weather grid for today, but if one has to be heading into the prevailing wind, which we are, light is far better than heavy.
1230 – After motoring into the light wind for hours, we pass a pretty sand encircled island with the dramatic name of Ilôt Infernal. The First Mate checks her French dictionary just to make sure. Infernal: Hellish, diabolical, devilish. Poor thing. Gazing at the white foam coming off the reefs that ring the island, she sees quite clearly how and why some sorry soul, ship-wrecked on this speck of an island, might have named it thus.
With its relatively high elevation, we have been able to see Ile des Pins on the horizon for the last few hours. We are heading directly toward our intended anchorage, Baie de Kuto, but there is a whitish smudge in line 
with the bay. What is it? Binoculars out. It’s a BUFF (big ugly fat f ___er) as it is scathingly called by us cruisers. As many times as The First Mate has seen these “floating cities”, she continues to be astounded by their sheer size. This one is so obscenely huge that it appears to swamp the bay. Its presence, however, does not surprise us, for Ile des Pines is a popular stop on the mega-cruise ship itinerary. We know that the arrival of its 100’s of visitors offers this little island far more income than the purchases of a few yachties.
1325 – We are anchored in Baie de Kuto. With all the tourists on shore, there is no way we are going to join the crowds. There are a number of cruising sailboats anchored around us, and it is quite pleasant sitting out on deck, enjoying our lunch and an arrival beer. In the distance, we see the white sand beach that follows the curve of the bay. The slender Column Pines for which the island is named and Pic N’ga, the highest point on the island, draw our attention.
Saturday, October 15th – One of the reasons we like Ile des Pins is that there are many 
things to do on this island. For starters, there is the boulangerie and a magasin a short walk down the road from the beach. A freshly baked baguette is on our wish list, and one never knows what the magasin, not much bigger than a small convenience store, will have. In the early morning hours, another cruise ship has dropped anchor, but very few, if any, of its passengers will hike out the road we are taking. On shore, we walk up the soft sand of the beach to the road and turn left. Walking in and out of the dabbled shade of the palm trees along the side of the road is a delight.
By 0900, we are at the boulangerie which is tucked back off the street. Unfortunately, The First Mate does not see any baguettes. The cylindrical woven basket that holds them is empty. While The Captain silently grumbles to no one in particular that we should have started out earlier, The First Mate, reconciling herself to their loss, buys 2 plastic-wrapped baguettes. “Anything is better than nothing,” she thinks. They later turn out to be yummy ham, cheese and hard-boiled egg sandwiches on delicious French bread and will be much appreciated the next day — though The Captain does not know that as he hands over an outrageous amount of money for what he thinks are 2 plain baguettes.
We head to the magazin where, to our delight, a straw cylindrical basket holds 2 baguettes. With calm demeanor so as not to appear pushy or anything, The First Mate scarfs them up. Voilà, Mon Capitaine, you have bread today — and for tomorrow since that being Sunday, no baking will be done, and nothing will be open.
On the way out of the store, The First Mate notices that the straw cylindrical basket had been replenished. Relieved that she really had not grabbed the last 2 baguettes on the whole island, she smiles happily to herself and inhales the aroma of fresh bread. Back now to the boat for breakfast. We have eggs from the market in Nouméa, bacon flown in from New Zealand, baguettes from Ile des Pins served with butter from France and Kumar’s honey from Fiji. While she makes breakfast, he makes them another round of cappuccinos — from Italy, of course. What a cosmopolitan repast!