The next day was Maryanne’s Birthday. It was raining buckets. I decided we would make it a cuddly day of leisure. Maryanne, of course, got to do whatever she wanted and, equally importantly, didn’t have to lift a finger to do anything she didn’t. I figured sailing in the rain would be on that (didn't want to) list, so we didn’t even try. Since we were at anchor in navigable waters, we could be considered underway, but not making way for reasons of safety. The main thing is that we could no longer go ashore or have direct contact with anyone ashore, even though we were within the boundaries of the country. That’s good, because when we did finally pull up anchor early the next morning, we knew that we would be bouncing back and forth between the islands of Vanuatu for a while.
Our trip started with twenty minutes of glorious sailing. After that, it rained like the day before. I was so wet, I insisted Maryanne stay inside in the dry while I tacked us back and forth across the route we had sailed on the way in.
The forecast was for big headwinds for the passage. Our visas had run out and could only be renewed in Port Vila, so we had to go. There was a really good window the week before, but we just weren’t ready to leave then, so we decided to suck up the headwinds. My strategy was to stay in islands of the Vanuatu group, using them as a breakwater of sorts until we had made our way far enough south to get to New Caledonia on one tack.
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Passage: sunsets, dolphins and some rain
It worked for the most part, but it was painfully slow. As we retraced our route north, it took us twenty-four hours of wet sailing in blasting winds to cover the same distance we had gone effortlessly in the multi-colored shadow of our spinnaker.
After two more days, we finally made it as far as Efate and Port Vila. The wind shifted ever so slightly and we were off to cross the open sea to the Loyalty Islands. We hedged a little windward of our destination, which allowed us to gradually turn away from the wind as we went. By the time we passed Mare Island in the wee hours of Day Seven, we were on a comfortable broad reach with the wind finally coming from behind.
Twelve hours later, we reached the Havannah Channel, the notorious entrance to the lagoon surrounding Basse Terre, the main island of New Caledonia. We had been warned about the currents there and had slowed to arrive near slack water.
We were half an hour early. We got a slightly lumpy ride and were briefly slowed to a crawl in the dying eddies, but we got in without trouble. We had just enough light to make it to Boise Bay, where we dropped anchor off of a pretty little resort for the night. The authorities require arriving vessels to check in at the capital city of Noumea. It’s a long way, though, and they are good enough to not insist that anyone navigate the lagoon in the dark, so they are cool about a ‘rest stop’ on the way in, provided no one goes ashore.
It’s still a long way from Boise to Noumea, so we were out at the first hint of daylight. We had a marvelous sail that nearly made up for the bashing we had taken on the crossing. The water was so flat, we couldn’t even feel the boat move. The spinnaker pulled us mightily and the wind was even kind enough to bend with us as we curved around the south side of the island, so we didn’t have to gybe. We even had the current helping us.
We got to Noumea hours before we had planned. We called Port Moselle, which is notorious for never having any space. They didn’t sound hopeful, but we continued on anyway, just in case. Just as we were coming abeam the marina, they called us with a berth assignment. Woo, hoo! It was still warm from the boat that had just left, passing us on the way out.
We were here! The Marina handled Customs for us and sent Biosecurity to the boat right after. Once they were done, we were told we could lower our “Q” flag and go ashore. All that remained for us to do was to walk to Immigration in the morning to do their bit. Then we can start with chores and fun.
Arriving in New Caledonia
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