Published in the Ocean Watch column,
Honolulu Star-Advertiser © Susan Scott

May 19, 2014

Noumea, New Caledonia » After writing last week about our cushy cruise from Fiji to New Caledonia on our 37-foot ketch, Honu, the Pacific Ocean rose up to remind us who’s boss.

Craig and I could see trouble ahead, solid black clouds that grew taller and wider with each sunny downwind mile we sailed. We’ve sailed through such weather fronts time and again, but even so, it’s sobering business heading straight into such a menacing wall.

Honu’s jib during a similar storm in 2006.

We shortened the sails, battened the hatches and zipped on our foul-weather gear just as 30 mph wind, accompanied by driving rain and rising seas, struck us head on, pushing us so far off course we considered making landfall in Vanu­atu rather than New Caledonia.

Honu beat through angry waves that struck the bow, washed over the deck and sprayed us with salt water. It was a long day and longer night, each of us hyper-alert to the boat’s sounds because a new screech, groan or bang requires immediate investigation.

We took two-hour watches that felt like four. What a relief to go below deck and lie in the downwind bunk.

At 5 a.m. I woke with a start. “What’s happening?” I said, poking my head into the cockpit.

Craig in foul weather gear, 2014. @©2014 Susan Scott Craig in foul weather gear, 2014.
©2014 Susan Scott

“It’s amazing,” Craig said. “We passed through the front like a doorway, and in minutes the wind clocked around to the quarter (the rear of the boat). It’s still blowing hard, but we’re back on course and going downwind.”

Ah, the glory of following seas. On sailboats, direction is everything.

Dawn brightened our day even more, and by midmorning the adverse tide slackened, letting the blustery southeast trades push Honu into Havana Pass. We dropped anchor in a harbor just inside New Caledonia’s barrier reef, thanking Honu for seeing us safely through another storm.

Honu is now moored in Noumea, the capital of New Caledonia, nicknamed Paris of the Pacific. It’s an apt name, the city offering fine French food, superb museums and one-of-a kind shops. Combined with the consistent friendliness we’ve experienced in all these South Pacific nations, Noumea is a great place to stop.

Snake skipperSusan with New Caledonia in the background, 2014.
©2014 Susan Scott

Captain Cook was the first westerner to come across this island group in 1774, naming it New Caledonia because its hills reminded him of Scotland. (Caledonia was the Roman name for Scotland.) In 1853 the French claimed New Caledonia, using it as a penal colony. The island group became a household name during World War II when the U.S., New Zealand and Australia used it as a military base.

The main island in the cluster, Grand Terre, is the largest by far, about 250 miles long, 31 miles wide. Its barrier reef, along with those edging many small islands and atolls, make New Caledonia a premier snorkeling, diving and sailing area.

We are waiting out strong wind and rain in Nou­mea’s comfy Port Moselle. But the sea snakes, sea turtles, anemones, clown fish and even a dugong (they tell me) that reside right here in the harbor tell me what I already knew: New Caledonia is my kind of heaven.

As soon as the Pacific Ocean gets off its bossy high horse, Honu will be out there exploring.

New CaledoniaNew Caledonia from Honu in 2006

2020-07-14T23:17:19+00:00