On the Fringes of Civilization

Tuesday, June 18th – Today marks a full 3 weeks that we have been on the move, and amazingly, for The First Mate at least, yesterday was only our third day of rest. It’s not that we are on a tight schedule. In fact, we started out with over 7 weeks of meandering allowable before needing to return to Nouméa to prepare for our July 23rd flight home to the States. Lack of time, therefore, is the last thing on our minds. The main reason we have not stopped and tarried is that, though our anchorages have often been pretty, none have been so impressive that we felt we would be missing something if we did not stay another night or two. Some have offered a hike across, around or up the island, but once you have done that, do you want to do it again? Not really. The cooler weather and equally cool water temperature have not been tempting us to stay to swim or snorkel, and with two deadly shark attacks, one in Nouméa harbour and one out at the Belep Islands, during the first week of our arrival in New Caledonia, an extreme damper has been put on any immediate interest in water activities. Such caution is a given for The First Mate, but when The Captain is also exercising that caution, the situation merits attention.

Even though we have plenty of time, she knows, too, that we still are very much aware of the nearly 1,000 nautical miles we intend to traverse. Who knows what might cause a delay: the weather, a problem with the boat, one of us not feeling well? Thus, with that in mind, unless there was something noteworthy to encourage stopping or we simply wanted a day of rest, we have just kept moving on to the next anchorage.

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0845 – As we get underway, the sun is at a good angle for us to clearly see the ore loading dock at the far end of the bay. It looks like it has not been used in years. We had heard that this bay was a big mining operation, but there is very little evidence of it. There are scars on the hillsides surrounding the bay, but after looking at them with binoculars, we both conclude that most of what we are seeing is the result of natural earth slides rather than mining roads

It’s an easy day with only 17 nm to travel under sunny skies with calm wind and glassy seas. Our next anchorage is Baie de Pain, which is an uninhabited circular bay enclosed by a reef with a nice deep passage in the center. The recommended anchorage in this bay is in a deep hole in the northwest corner. It is not often that we end up traversing a broad shallower section in order to get to a deeper anchoring area, but that is what we cautiously find ourselves doing here.

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The wide sweeping circle of bay around us is thickly covered in heavy vegetation which rises up quickly from the shoreline. We can see small strips of beach here and there, but mostly it is mangroves right at the water’s edge. The coral that we skirted to safely anchor may have been an obstacle to getting in, but from the deck of Avante, dark coral patches show up all across the bay. Vast coral beds follow the shoreline, and we are amazed at how far they extend out from shore. Sadly, for The First Mate, who so enjoys setting foot on land wherever we are, that possibility appears remote unless we want to risk cutting feet on sharp coral or scraping the bottom of our relatively new dinghy.

That modern mining enterprise may be visible away in the distance, but here in our little bay, it is a different world. We are alone again. Other than the whooshing, rumbling sound of the surf out on the reef, there’s a primal stillness to the area. Along that impregnable shoreline as far as we can see, there is no sign of human habitation now or ever.

No immediate sign of human habitation is true, but we are suddenly startled to see a solitary man on the reef behind Avante. Wherever did he come from? Maybe there’s a trail over the heights to the other side of our bay. Head down, he is slowly walking along the edge of the low-tide exposed reef intently gazing at the water. He has a long slender pole held flexed in his hand. The occasional glint of metal shows us that there is a sharp point attached to the end of the pole. Every once in a while, he pauses, holds very still and then throws that spear into the water. Time and time again this happens, but those fish must be terribly quick, for none are seen wiggling at the end of his spear. Over the years we have spent out here on these Pacific islands, we have rarely seen this ancient way of fishing employed. Sitting on our modern boat in this wild, isolated bay untouched by what one might call civilization, watching this man, spear in hand, intently concentrated on his search for food was like an eerie step back in time.

Looking across the bow of Avante to the distant reef ahead, The First Mate swears that what we were assuming was a rock column is moving. Grabbing the binoculars, she exclaims that there’s a person out on the reef. She cannot tell if it is male or female, but, for sure, it is standing upright and walking. Scanning across the reef, she finds 3 more people out there. Wherever did they come from? We surmise that the exposed reef must connect with a settlement around the bend which we cannot see.

Just as surprisingly and silently as these distant people materialized with the lowering tide, they disappeared with the rising tide. What struck us was the several hours that they all spent out there on the reef. Gathering whatever food they were in search of takes time and patience, something that most of us today would have a hard time doing. We would “throw in the bucket”, ditch the spear and, empty-handed, dash to the nearest grocery store, but that is not an option out here. Return home empty-handed out here, and the family goes hungry tonight.

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Wednesday, June 19th – In the morning, the freighter can be seen at anchor with its cranes ready, but we see no activity immediately around it. There are a few large trucks slowly crisscrossing the mountain above the dock, but there is no activity at the loading dock.

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There is more activity out and around the bay today than we saw yesterday. There definitely is a settlement or small village somewhere around the next bay. Several boats have headed out to the outer reef to fish. We see 3 couples in their small boats slowly motor in toward a beach area, cut their engines and then step cautiously out into the water to drag their boats closer to shore. They obviously, through trial and error, have found a safe way to shore. We watch them then disappear into the vegetation. Along the fringes of these small beaches and set back from the high tide mark, we know they have plots of various root vegetables like taro, cassava and varieties of sweet potatoes or yams. Since it is technically winter here, we speculate whether they are harvesting or tending their crops.

One couple motors over to a narrow beach not far from Avante. Though definitely not hailing distance from us, with our binoculars, we can follow their activity. The man has a spear and proceeds to scout for fish along the shore as the man we saw yesterday had done. The woman first walks along the edge of the exposed reef, head bent, searching for whatever it is that’s edible and then stooping down to pick up her find. Though we never saw a fish caught, the bag the man is carrying seems to be filling. The woman’s sack is, too.

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In the early afternoon, the two of them disappear into the shade again. A billow of smoke is seen coming up from the woods. The concept of subsistence living on these Pacific Islands for us has been one of fishing from the sea, harvesting what naturally grows in the area or what can be planted and maybe a hog or two corralled and fed cracked coconuts. Watching this couple at work, the men fishing out on the reefs and the women who again showed up on the reef searching for food, the never-ending, time consuming chore of putting food in one’s stomach and those of one’s family really hit home.

With that huge mining operation across the bay offering its reminder of civilization and these people so primitively foraging for food almost under its nose, the contrast was striking, even subduing. If it were not for the clothes they wore and their access to boats with outboards, it was truly a vision backwards through the ages. The First Mate was in awe of these people. How she wished she had the communication skills to talk with them! She so wanted to head ashore, but any clumsy attempt to get our relatively new dinghy to the beach was not worth the risk of scraping up its bottom. More than that, though, they showed no interest in us, and we felt that watching them from Avante, perhaps, was about as much intrusion into their lives as was acceptable. She did not want to push our presence upon them and felt honored, if one can say that, to be allowed to watch. Still, she so wishes she knew what they were finding!

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