May, 2006

Although Mary was not able to spend any time at the computer during the passage due to queasiness, Paul was able to stay in touch via email with family and friends.

Here is an excerpt of one of his personal accounts during the passage:

“It's midnight Friday, Day 5 of our crossing. The winds have been strong, 15 to 20 knots, forward of the beam all day. The seas are confused and the ride is fast, averaging 7 knots, and lumpy. Unfortunately for Mary she has been feeling poorly all day but keeps a brave face and never complains. Even I have felt queasy occasionally today. I don 't know if it's due to a lack of sleep or the jerky motion of the boat - probably a little of both. It seems that there are sea legs for milder conditions and sea legs for not so mild conditions. She's sleeping now, despite the jerky motion of the boat and the slamming, cracking sounds of the confused seas on the underside of the hull. We, except for the "kid", are all wearing earplugs when trying to sleep. Actually falling asleep is very, very hard to do because of the motion and noise. Not for Sean. He seems to be able to sleep or stay awake whenever he wants. He's the only person I have ever seen go to his cabin after a late night watch and begin to read a book.

At dinner time we made a decision to slow the boat down so that we can arrive in Noumea at dawn on Sunday morning. We put in a double reef. That turned out to be a good decision because after dinner the wind built to 30 knots and our boat speed was hitting 9 knots. Too fast to make a daylight passage through the barrier reef that surrounds New Caledonia.

We had another "FISH ON" today, our 5th in three days. My brothers can laugh at me because it was my turn to land this one and I botched it just as the fish, another Mahi Mahi, was along side the boat. As Bill says, "Fish come and fish go." We are 3 for 5 hits, which isn't too bad considering the conditions we are working under.

My boat maintenance project for the day was to complete an oil change and general inspection on the starboard engine. We did a lot of motoring on day two and three, as a result this engine reached its 100 hour service requirement. The engines are running smoothly and we don't hesitate to use them when the winds are light or adverse. I do a daily inspection of the rig and our sailing gear. All seems to be going well except the main sail rubs too much on the shrouds. We have to sheet the main in further than I would like. For a future project I will install some good baggy-wrinkle at strategic locations on the shrouds.

We have now left the Tasman Sea behind us and are in the Coral Sea, not that one can see any difference.”

End of Paul’s personal account.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Mary awoke at 0530h and joined Paul on deck for the end of his watch – and had her first view of New Caledonia (mountains in the distance). By the time we were approaching the Boulari Pass (one of the openings in the reef that surrounds New Caledonia that we chose to go through), Bill and Sean were up and joined us in the cockpit. You could feel the excitement start to build in everyone as we knew that we were nearing the end of the long passage.

We still had about a 90-minute passage into Noumea, the capital of New Caledonia. As soon as we got through the reef the water was noticeably calmer and when we got closer to Noumea Mary went into the galley and started to prepare for our champagne breakfast to celebrate our arrival.

At 1000h on Sunday, May 14, 2006, we tied up at the Visitors’ Pontoon (also the quarantine dock) in Noumea, New Caledonia – exactly 6 days and 850 miles after we left Australia.

We knew (from a radio conversation with Tom and Vivian from Imajica) that the Quarantine officials would be confiscating our fresh eggs when we arrived so we wanted to have our breakfast of bacon, eggs, and home fries as soon as possible after docking the boat. Indeed, we had just finished breakfast and the champagne when the Quarantine officer arrived at the boat. She confiscated the fresh fruits and vegetables that we had aboard, as well as our honey, garlic, onions, and potatoes. We were surprised, but pleased, that she did not take any cheeses or spices and that she was not concerned about the meat and fish that was in the freezer.

Shortly after the visit from the Quarantine Officer, an official from Immigration came aboard and collected our immigration cards and checked our passports. We were told that Canadians can stay only 30 days in New Caledonia and if we want to stay longer we would have to visit the Bureau d’Etranger.

Lastly, we were told by the Marina staff that, if Customs did not show up by 1330h, we were officially considered to be cleared into the country. At 1330h, after not seeing anyone from Customs, we took down the yellow Quarantine flag and raised our New Caledonia courtesy flag (the French flag) and started to settle into land life again.

First order of business was to wash the salt off of the boat – everything was crusted in salt. We learned that the first night at the marina is free for overseas vessels and we decided to treat ourselves to one week at the marina. This would give us time to wash the inside and the outside of the boat, reprovision the boat, and complete a mountain of clothes washing. Unfortunately, we learned that there is no laundramat available in Noumea and everyone handwashes their clothes. This took about three days as Mary had three sets of sheets and several towels and boat rags to wash. All clothes that we wore on the passage were salt-crusted.

The visitors’ dock at the marina was a very interesting place – boats from all over the world (three boats from Canada when we were there). During that first day (we all stayed up instead of sleeping), we were visited by several people from other boats, all who welcomed us to New Caledonia and who gave us very good information about available amenities and local customs. We very quickly learned to say Bonjour instead of hello. We dragged out our long ago learned high school French and managed to make ourselves understood for the most part.

Bill treated us to a wonderful seafood dinner at a lovely restaurant that first evening. Over the next few days, Bill and Sean took in the sights while we worked on the boat, and they flew back to Brisbane on Wednesday, May 17. We remarked on how well we all got along on this trip, and indeed, we never felt like we were living on top of each other. The boat is very comfortable with four people on passage and having crew certainly helps with the watch system.

We spent the first week in New Caledonia dealing with bureaucracy. We are having difficulty obtaining an extension to the 30-day visa for Canadians. We first visited the Bureau d”Etranger with our French boat neighbour and we were told “no – no extensions”. Then our boat neighbour suggested that we write a letter in French explaining why we want to stay, which we did with help of Jacques. We returned to the bureau just this past Tuesday and were again told “no”, however, our letter was passed on up the chain of command. We will return next Tuesday for the final word. We suspect that we will be heading to Vanuatu much sooner than planned.

The people of New Caledonia are very friendly. Of the estimated 200,000 people in New Caledonia, 34% are European, 45% are Melanesian, 9% are Wallisian, and the rest (12%) are principally Tahitian, Indonesian, Vietnamese, and West Indians. Paul tries to speak French much more readily than Mary and, in fact, he charms everyone. As soon as he tries to speak French, there will be a big grin from the person and they try and help. We have had a great time making ourselves understood.

Here is another excerpt from Paul’s personal account of “Life in Noumea, New Caledonia – A Different Time Zone”

“Being in a different time zone with only my feet to get me around is very healthy.

We had been told that most businesses close for the lunch hour, but then again not all, so don’t expect them to be open. I had to pay a visit to the New Zealand Consulate - a short 20-minute walk through the centre of Noumea. I made sure that I would be there well before noon. When I arrived, the doors were locked. The sign said closed from 11:00 – 1:30. My teacher friends would enjoy having that kind of a lunch break! I did return to the consulate later that afternoon. Make that a total of one hour and 20 minutes of brisk walking. Great exercise and, by taking a different route each time, a great way to see and enjoy more of the city.

On another occasion I had to find the local Fed Ex depot. This would be much less walking with a 10-minute dinghy ride across the bay and a very short walk. The locals are exceptionally helpful when asking for directions. In this case I understood that I was to walk around the building and up the hill. When I did so, I discovered that I was standing at the gates of New Caledonia’s prison. Looking around, I couldn’t see anything that looked like it might house the Fed Ex office. So, I just stepped up to the prison gatekeeper and in my very broken French asked for directions. With a smile he pointed me across the street where the entrance to Fed Ex was hidden by some landscaping. Unfortunately, the doors were locked. It was a little after 1:00 in the afternoon. There was no sign on the door saying what their hours of business are. On my way back to the dinghy, the French shopkeeper who first gave me directions asked if I had found the place. When I told him it was closed, he immediately got on the phone and got their hours of operation for me. It seems that their lunch hour is from 12:00 till 2:00 in the afternoon. Teachers - How would you like that?

Here’s a story about asking for directions. I was looking for “le bureau etranger”. I think that means the office for strangers. It’s actually the place to go if you want to get the length of stay extended. That’s another story in itself. So, on the first visit to this office, I’m standing on a street corner with trusty map in hand but this particular corner has no street signs. It’s a busy place, and there are many people in all shades of colour coming and going. I pick out two young men across the road who are standing on the corner having a conversation in French. I ask in my broken French “qest’ce que le nom de la rue ici” (It’s really bad, I know). The two discuss this for a moment because they aren’t sure, but I do get an answer from the younger of the two, in French followed by, “And by the way, I’m Canadian.” Spoken to me in very Canadian English. The young man was indeed from Vancouver recently arrived, visiting family and friends in Noumea. It’s a small world.

Then there is the story of how challenging it can be to buy propane, GAZ as it is called here. Fortunately the marina has a heavy trolley on two pneumatic wheels that can be used to walk 5 minutes to the nearest petrol station where propane bottles are sold and exchanged. A local yachtie has loaned me their bottle and hose. My intention is to exchange it for a full one, decant the contents into my bottle (that is done by joining the two bottles with a hose, lifting the full bottle up side down over the empty bottle and allowing the liquid gas to flow, albeit slowly down into the empty bottle below) then return the empty bottle to the local Yachtie. Sounds like a good plan. I’ve read all about this in cruising articles. It should work. So, I trundle this cart over curbs and across VERY busy streets to get to the Mobil petrol station. The time of travel is doubled because of the challenges presented with moving this trolley over hill and valley (French for curb and gutter). When I approach the petrol station, the attendant who sees me coming starts to wave me away. I don’t understand why. I think that I have received bad information and that this station does not do bottle exchanges, though I can clearly see gas bottles inside a metal cage. He tells me to go to the Shell station down the road. I sigh! That’s a 10-minute walk without the trolley; double that with the trolley. Off I went expecting to have more success at the Shell station. Once again, as I approach the station the attendant sees me coming and starts to wave me away. I try my best broken French to understand why. He doesn’t want to try to speak French to me. He insists on finding someone who speaks broken English and all I get out of this transaction is “come back tomorrow.” Off I went like a sad little kid trailing his wagon behind him. In total, I pulled that cart around town for over an hour with nothing to show for it, but a lot of experience and French culture enjoyed. The next morning, the yachtie that loaned me the tank walked up to the Mobil station with me. GAZ was immediately available. We think the problem on the previous day was simply that both service stations were sold out.

Now begins the task of decanting the gas from the full French bottle to my half empty Canadian bottle. It may be of interest for you to note that the Australian and New Zealand bottle fittings are the same as the old style fitting that we have always used in Canada. I have been told by other yachties that it is only here in New Caledonia that I will find this different fitting. As the French say, “viva la difference”. My first attempt to decant, transfer the gas from the new bottle to my bottle using the hose provided by the Yachtie friend, is not successful, in fact the level on my bottle actually went down a bit. With the help and opinion of the other yachties standing around watching, I had to manufacture a hose to link the two bottles without a regulator in between. This requires a trip to purchase a fitting for the end of my propane hose that would match their GAZ bottle (different from ours of course). After all, this is “France”. This fitting would be purchased at a “quincaillerie” (hardware store). (My apologies to all of you who speak French – I am not sure of the correct spelling for my French words). Mom and Dad, Lucia and Ivana, you would be so proud of how my French vocabulary is developing. I try to learn a new word every day. Yesterday’s new word was “tranche” because we wanted our bacon cut in slices. But I digress. It’s easy to digress in these little vignettes, because that is exactly what happens. What we set out to do, rarely gets accomplished without many little digressions. I manage to return from the hardware store after another 40 minute walk with the required fitting that I am able to attach to my hose that one that my brothers made up for me in anticipation for this task. Once again the bottles get connected and the full one gets raised upside down over my half empty one. Within 90 seconds, the level on my bottle dropped from half a tank to a quarter before I had enough sense to turn off the valves. This is not the way it was supposed to work. What was wrong with this process? I should point out that the reason why I know the level of my bottle is going down is because my bottle is made of translucent fibreglass. Very unusual, I know. More discussion on the dock happens with anyone who cares to express an opinion. Someone finally points out that the GAZ bottles here are filled with butane and butane has a different boiling point than the propane in my bottle. Therefore, when the two bottles were linked, the propane in my bottle boiled off and into the butane bottle. None of us knows for sure that this is the reason but it sounds possible, so I completely give up on the transfer process. I paid the yachtie friend for the bottle that he loaned me and we now have a French bottle aboard containing a lovely propane/butane mixture that I have been able to plumb directly to our Bar-B-Q by cutting my old Bar-B-Q hose and attaching the fitting that I purchased at the “quincaillerie”. End of story. And people ask me, “Paul, what do you do all day?”

End of Paul’s personal account.

We left the marina on Monday, May 22, and anchored in a bay just outside of the marina harbour. We so enjoyed swinging at anchor again. There, we continued to go into town by dinghy when necessary, and we reconnected with Tom and Vivian from Imajica. They had left the marina several days earlier and went up the coast for a few days.



MAY 25 , 2006