Sailing alone across the Pacific
Being an account of travels from Sydney to Dallas and then driving across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and California to Los Angeles and then by ship across the Pacific to Sydney
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Thursday
Noumea
New Caledonia
As we came towards Noumea at about 6am it looked
like the whole island was covered by rain but it must have been an optical
illusion because it was all dry and mostly clear sky by the time we docked at
730am.
New Caledonia (so named by Captain Cook because the
mountainous islands reminded him of Scotland) has a population of 250,000
(according to the guide on the one hour rapid tour of Noumea) and 60% of them
live in Noumea. New Caledonia is a department of France, so the residents
behave, justifiably, as though they are living in France. Although the local
currency is not the Euro; New Caledonia has its own currency; the CFP (central
pacific franc; about 100 francs to AUD1.00).
The ship docked at the cruise terminal which
occupies about the equivalent position to the overseas passenger terminal in
Sydney. The terminal is really just a large shelter and inside, waiting for the
passengers, are lots of locals wanting to sell us tickets for tours. There were
not, unlike Pago Pago, Suva and Vila any taxi drivers touting for business.
I went for a walk around the city for 90 minutes
and then came back to the ship. I didn’t get back on board as I was persuaded
to buy a ticket for a one hour tour that was leaving immediately. There were
only two other tourists and me in an eight seat mini bus. Philippe the driver had
obviously done this tour more times that he can remember and would say “on your
right” or “on your left” while himself looking in the opposite direction. We
stopped a couple of times to take photos but otherwise just drove around.
Mercifully neither of the stops was a shopping centre as apparently happened on
tours in other ports. So after an hour I had a fair idea of the layout of
Noumea.
After lunch I went for a walk and saw the locals
enjoying long lunches, with wine on every table, at restaurants around the
city; I didn’t see any native New Caledonians in the smarter restaurants, just
people of European appearance.
Place des Cocotiers is the park which forms the
central square of the city. This is a pleasant space with lots of shade trees
and places to sit comfortably out of the sun. Although at 9am when I first walked
through most of the seats were occupied by people who looked like they had
nothing better to do for the rest of the day and didn’t look like they wanted
to share their seat with anybody else. At lunch time when I walked through
again there were market stalls set up and I could have bought a whole wahoo
fish (about a meter long).
We have two days at sea before arriving in Sydney
on Sunday morning. Officials from the Australian Dept. of Immigration join the
ship here in Noumea and the checking of passenger’s passports takes place at a
leisurely pace all day on Friday. This arrangement, while saving time on
arrival in Sydney, must be a greatly sought after assignment for the
immigration officials. Fly up to Noumea, a couple of days on a ship and stamp 1400
passports.
Based on less than a day here, I quite like Noumea.
Perhaps because it is a place that has other things to do apart from cater to
the needs of the passengers on the ship. In the previous three ports of call it
seemed like if the ship hadn’t been in port then it wouldn’t have been worth it
for the locals to get out of bed that day. In Noumea the visit of the ship is
just another thing that is happening today. Although I certainly stand out as a
visitor, because I’m lighter skinned than the native population and not as
smartly dressed as the European population, I haven’t been subject today to the
constant questioning about my requirements regarding clothes that I’d never
wear, shops, transport, hair braiding (seriously, the last time I could have
been legitimately asked this question was 1974), massages, wooden curios of all
sizes and shapes, postcards of places I haven’t been to and tours to places I
don’t want to visit.
Unless something significant happens in the next
two days at sea (like the ship being torpedoed) this will be my final posting.
In the past five weeks I’ve added five new US states to my states-visited list
to bring the total to nine out of fifty (Hawaii, California, Nevada, Arizona,
New Mexico, Texas, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York); driven 4300kms
across western America, taken about 3000 photos, sailed across the Pacific
Ocean and been to a most wonderful wedding in Las Vegas.
The next time I set foot on solid ground will be in
Sydney. Thanks to all the people who asked if I needed a ride home from the
airport; an understandable error as it is very rare for someone to end a
holiday by arriving in Sydney (or anywhere) by sea.
Before I conclude I must mention a most special
group of people on the ship. Nothing deters them from their daily routine. The
lure of exotic ports meant nothing to them. The thought of walking on the deck
or floating in the pool never enters their head. The temptations of food and
beverages of all types are ignored and they take only enough sustenance to
maintain them at their daily activities. I am referring, of course, to the
bridge players who seem to live in the room on deck 5 filled with card tables.
Every morning at 9am the room is packed to overflowing for the bridge lessons
(given by Jacqui; I’ve seen her and you wouldn’t want to say “four no trumps”
to her unless you really meant it) and then for what is described as
“unsupervised play”; as though they had been learning mountaineering and were
being allowed out by themselves on the north face of the Eiger. Port visits
were ignored and those that did go ashore blamed this lapse in continuous play on
unbearable threats made by their spouses. A couple of days ago I came across an
old gent on deck 4 looking a bit lost. He told me that he was trying to find
his wife. He said “she’s a bridge player” as though he was telling me that he’d
married insanity and wanted it to be crystal clear that any loss of marbles
wasn’t on his side of the family. I guided him to the bridge room on level 5
and, I’m ashamed to say, left to him alone to interrupt his wife and face her
fury when he inevitably distracted her at a critical point in the game.
While their behavior appears unusual, especially
given the opportunities surrounding them, they are spending their holiday doing
exactly what they want to do and I suppose that’s what a holiday should be.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Wednesday
Easo
Lifou Island
New Caledonia
Lifou Island is part of New Caledonia and about
150km North East of Noumea. Easo is a very small village on the North West
coast of Lifou.
The ship anchored at 7am about 1km offshore and the
passengers went ashore in four of the life boats. This procedure had the added
pleasure of allowing me to watch the boofheads who didn’t read the instructions
distributed last night on going ashore or listen to the instructions given this
morning being asked to go and get the identification required to go ashore and
a boat ticket (the ticketing system lasted until lunchtime, after that it was
just turn up on A deck, which is a crew deck below deck 1).
I decided to go ashore as soon as possible, which
was about 8.15am, because it was very windy and I thought that it might get so
windy that they would stop passengers from going ashore. We landed at a jetty on
a beach that was about 500m long. It is the only beach on this side of the
island as far as I can see; and that’s probably about 10km from the top deck of
the ship.
I walked up to the church on the promontory that we
could see clearly from the ship. The path wasn’t too steep but if it was
pouring rain and just a bit windier than it was today then you’d be giving
serious consideration to having a lie in on Sunday morning instead of going to
this church. The statue on the roof of the church was blown into the sea during
a cyclone some years ago and the locals thought it was lost forever. However,
scuba divers visiting the island found the statue and using large air lift bags
raised the statue to the surface and somehow got it ashore, up the hill and
back on to the roof.
I then walked to a small bay across the promontory rom
where I had come ashore (the promontory being only 500m wide at that point).
This bay had only a tiny beach that was difficult to get down to but the whole
bay was filled with coral sitting in water that was as clear as gin. Steps down
on to the beach and into the water are being constructed but are currently
roped off with a ‘do not enter’ sign; this was ignored by all visitors.
As I was one of the first people to see the sights
and to be heading back to the beach while vast shoals of later arrivals were
heading ashore meant that everyone who came toward me asked me how far it was
to the church, was the climb difficult, was it open (no), what else there was
to see (the bay with the coral) and so on. I felt like a one man Easo tourist
office. Speaking of which there were locals fulfilling this function sitting at
a table just near the beach that my interrogators would have walked past on
leaving the boat. As today I was in a rare amiable mood I patiently gave the
required details to all and sundry.
The locals were offering for sale much the same
merchandise that I’d seen for sale at the last three ports, except this all had
“greetings from Lifou” on it. There was also food for sale. Being part of New
Caledonia and therefore part of France, the food included baguettes and quiche.
I put some money into the local economy by buying a can of that famous French
beverage Cola de Coca.
Back to the ship for lunch and a change of camera.
I went back to the island on boat number 10, which is my assigned life boat. I
was happy to see that it is sea-worthy. I wasn’t so happy to see that the rated
capacity is 150 persons when used as a lifeboat. Today it was a squeeze to seat
60 people so I don’t see how 150 would fit unless their bodies are going to be
stacked like firewood.
Once ashore I walked back to the coral bay and took
some photos using a polarizing filter on the lens which cuts out reflections
from the water and also darkens the sky.
On my first visit ashore I went for a swim and the
water was surprisingly “refreshing”; other passengers said it was cold. The
beach was sand but once in the water it was mostly broken coral underfoot.
At 5pm the ship lifted its anchor and we started
towards Noumea.
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