Journal Entry - June 5, 2008 - Koumac Arrival

Author: Scott

The morning of our arrival day at New Caledonia started on a calm sea. A ribbon of yellow cracked the black sky revealing a complete absence of clouds. It was definitely going to be a beautiful day at sea. As I sat at the wheel, the pink, orange, and golden light of dawn washed across Starship, almost in a forgiving tribute to her success through the mayhem of the past five days of foul weather. Our poor battered boat felt like she was leaping through the small swells towards the safety and serenity of the New Caledonia's reef protected lagoons.

The final day of one of our most challenging passages turned out to be perfect beam reach ocean sailing, with 12 knot winds and gentle seas. We were able to motor sail at a brisk 6 knots in order to arrive exactly on time for our possible rendezvous outside the Koumac passage. All of our communication with the Koumac Marina and New Caledonia authorities had taken place through Nathaniel, an acquaintance of Bruce and who works as a marine biologist in New Caledonia. We had requested a pilot boat to bring us through the reef passage at 09:00 but had no confirmation.

Upon our arrival to the pass there was no one to meet us. We tried to raise the marina on the radio with no success. We did receive a radio response from Radio Noumea but they were unaware of any plans to provide a pilot through the reef. However, they did contact the marina for us. Here we sat after twelve days at sea (four unplanned) and there was no one at the front door to welcome us. Prior to leaving I had gone over the charts with Bruce and had learned that the chart data was very accurate. Pam and I have transited many passes in the South Pacific and the Koumac Pass appeared to be reasonably accessible, especially with the calm sea state. So, with Pam on the bow and headsets on for communication, I piloted the boat straight through the center of the pass and into one of the largest and bluest lagoons we have seen on the voyage. One minute we were in pulsating gray ocean water and the next we were in flat calm turquoise lagoon water. New Caledonia we have arrived!

We motored through the gentle lagoon water following the dots of our GPS route to the Koumac (Pandop) Marina. We were a little surprised to still see no hint of a welcoming vessel. We tried again to raise someone on the radio with no success. We also realized that there was no way we could navigate into this small marina without assistance. We couldn't even find the entrance to the marina. We could see a rock wall, but from our vantage point and with our poor vision, the entrance was lost to mysterious depth perception. So we continued to hover in the lagoon while we started to formulate a plan.

Our plan would be to anchor the boat in the lagoon, launch the dinghy and venture into the marina and announce our arrival and request a guide boat. However, after about five laps in front of the marina we received a call over the radio. "Australian vessel this is Cracked. The marina has asked us to call you to let you know that they will send out a boat in ten minutes to guide you in" We thanked the yacht Cracked and after learning that we would have a starboard tie, prepared our fenders and dock lines. Cracked had also mentioned it was a small marina and something about turning around, and this left me a little unsettled.

About a half hour later a grey launch came zooming out to meet us. There was no verbal communication, perhaps because the driver did not speak English. He just drove in front of Starship in a gesture indicating that we should follow. Just as I was wondering if this guy knew we were visually impaired, my question was answered as he started giving Pam hand signals for directions. All I could do was keep his boat in front of us, figuring I would squish the bugger on the rock wall rapidly approaching if there was not a passage to turn into. It turns out that there was a cleverly disguised entrance to the marina. Just as we approached the rock wall our friend veered to starboard making the first of two hairpin turns that were required to enter the marina. There is nothing quite as exhilarating as following a little motorboat through a rock strewn maze after five days of bad weather at sea. We almost made one wrong turn, but compensated by backing up and then continuing on. When we finally emerged inside the protected marina, we realized our parking spot was on the port side of the boat where a couple of people were frantically waving to us. "Wait just a doggone second, we prepared for a starboard tie up", then I remembered that we were expected to turn Starship around in this micro marina. Flashbacks of sailing class darted into my mind as the next rock wall challenge approached. I jammed the boat into reverse, threw the wheel to Starboard, punched the transmission back into forward for a burst, and spun the bow around 180 degrees. I felt like Godzilla disco dancing in a china shop. I eased Starship forward and the manic people on the dock took our lines, ending our first and absolutely unforgettable passage of the cruising season Starship bobbed in her berth looking like Rocky after fifteen rounds, but damn it she was still standing proud.

On the dock was the wife of the couple who run the marina and Karen and Robert from the Australian yacht "Cracked" who thankfully contacted us on the radio. We learned that the owners of the marina speak about as much English as we speak French, but Karen and Robert gave us the skinny. We learned that the marina handled the immigration formalities through Noumea, and that Customs and Quarantine would come visit us at some unspecified time.

As Karen and Robert continued to fill us in, I was keenly aware of my first step off of Starship onto the dock. I was relieved, dazed, and thankful to still be stepping off the boat after the wave strike and my precarious proximity to the open sea. This was such a difficult passage and yet I could already feel the drama ebbing with the wonder of arriving in a strange new land. A land where they speak FRENCH - yikes!

Now you would think that the rest of the day would be spent sleeping, but not on this boat pal! We set to work rinsing our baby, frantically reclaiming our home from the deluge of salt water. While cleaning we were visited by Customs and later Quarantine. The Quarantine lady definitely did not have her heart in the process. She asked us questions like "Do you have meat/", we replied yes and that it was vacuum sealed and then she just moved on… She asked about eggs and Pam showed her one of three dozen we had on board. She said we could crack them into a dish, but she would have to take the shells, so Pam did. She also asked about honey and fresh fruits and veggies. In the end she took the trash and the suspicious egg shells. We were very relieved to not have to relinquish our meat, because a steak dinner was on our horizon. All in all, the process was effortless and then we were free to lower our Quarantine flag. It was very unclear how immigration would deal with us, but for now we were officially visitors to New Caledonia.

When exhaustion demanded that we stop cleaning, we feasted on a huge steak and baked potato meal before plunging into the abyss of uninterrupted, stress free, land sleep. Tomorrow will bring whatever fate deals, but for today we were at the end of one of many challenges that we have overcome throughout the voyage.