A Quick Jaunt to France (actually New Caledonia)

We took a break from Australia and New Zealand with a quick jaunt over to France. Well not exactly. New Caledonia, or Nouvelle-Calédonie, is a self-governing French overseas territory only three hours from Sydney, Australia. It is Australia’s closest neighbour. They speak French, drive on the correct side of the road (ie the right) and eat freshly baked baguette with every meal.

New Caledonia is an archipelago of about 140 islands in the South Pacific. In the late 1800s France used New Caledonia as a penal colony. Many of today’s residents are descendants of those prisoners, but the indigenous Kanak make up about 40% of the population.

We only visited Grande-Terre, the main island. We started in the capital Nouméa. Tourism is dominated by day visitors off cruise ships. Independent travellers are in the minority. There is a strange dichotomy in the city. The downtown is a depressed area dominated by indigenous people. Away from downtown there are beautiful neighbourhoods and spectacular beaches. Baie des Citrons where we stayed had many bars, cafes and restaurants. They are not there not to serve tourists. They are there for the benefit of the thousands of French military, police and civil servants assigned to the island.

Exploring Grande-Terre by Peugeot

The tourism authority gives a recommended driving itinerary to explore the island. Taking its advice we rented a car and off we went. We had an inauspicious start. We paid to have the car delivered to our hotel. On the appointed day we found the car parked outside our hotel. Curiously, no one was around and there were no keys to be found. Using his high school French, George explained the issue to a local standing around nearby. He offered to drive George to the rental office. The staff produced the keys from a drawer. No explanation was offered as to why they delivered the car but didn’t leave us the keys. Just one of those travel idiosyncrasies.

The car was a three-cylinder (yes, three), 72 horsepower Peugeot 108. It was sadly lacking in power. The poor little engine worked hard to negotiate the numerous hills and mountain passes, pedal to the floor. Patience was a must on the climbs.

Our first day we drove several hours north to the town of Bourail. We learned quickly that towns indicated on a map might be just a few houses or, if lucky, a shop. Lunch was a sandwich by the roadside beside one of the multitude of fruit stands that line the roads. As we munched on our sandwiches we heard someone working in the hut. Suddenly the tarp was rolled back and cars started arriving. It was the area’s sole “take-out restaurant”. The woman’s baking was apparently renowned. For dessert we enjoyed a delicious slice of her banana tart fresh out of the oven.

The next day we drove east up and over a steep mountain range to the east coast town of Poindimie. We rented a beachside cabin overlooking the South Pacific. It seemed idyllic until we opened the hotel’s information guide. Page one was instructions in case of a cyclone (not a good scenario). Page two was instructions in case of a tsunami (a worse scenario).

Sunday on the Road

We returned to Nouméa on a Sunday, taking a scenic route instead of the main road. If we’d thought services were scant before, driving backroads on a Sunday was a whole new education. We left the hotel around 8 am figuring we would get breakfast in the nearby town. Everything, which is to say the one bakery and one grocery store, was closed. No problem. There were lots more towns on the route. Google maps said there were several coffee shops to choose from. Unfortunately those supposed coffee shops were all either a figment of Google’s imagination, or were closed.

Finally around 3 pm we found a Shell gas station open. We bought a dry baguette (you can buy baguette anywhere) and some packaged ham. We tore the baguette apart, stuffed it with ham and wolfed down our lunch sitting on rickety chairs beside the gas pumps. Best (and only) meal of the day.

The drive back was over a high mountain pass through a barren wasteland of abandoned open-pit nickel mines. The pits stretch for tens of miles. New Caledonia has approximately 10% of the world’s nickel. In good times it accounts for a quarter of private sector employment. These are not good times. The mines are closed but the pits remain.

Sights on the Road

Three things stand out when driving New Caledonia’s roads. (1) The countless wooden stalls where people leave out fruit, vegetables and plants for sale on the honour system. (2) Numerous beautifully situated cemeteries with elaborate brightly coloured flower displays around the plots. (3) Hundreds and hundreds of burnt out and wrecked cars left for vegetation to swallow up.

The majority of Grande-Terre’s population live in the Southern Province, especially the capital Nouméa. Like many countries, people travel from the sparsely-populated North to seek better lives in the city. Unfortunately that does not always work out. We were told that if they have no money for the bus fare home, some will steal a car and drive it until it runs out of gas. It is then abandoned and set alight. That, allegedly, explains the many burnt-out wrecks peppering the roadsides.

There’s a lot more

New Caledonia offers a lot more than we were able to take advantage of in our short visit. Grande-Terre has a variety of water sports – diving, snorkelling, sailing, jet-skiiing. There are day trips to nearby islets. Nouméa has several acclaimed French restaurants. There is a marked hiking route across the island. Many of the other islands have their own airports and spectacular beaches. If you’re interested in visiting, the government has one of the better tourism websites we’ve found. https://www.newcaledonia.travel/en