‘Pebbles, Pebbles, this is Bobcat, do you copy, over?’
‘&*(%JJ *@))* !+:”>?’
‘Pebbles, this is Bobcat, can you please repeat, over.’

Just as he was answering the VHF call, Dean took a bite from a cracker. It broke in his mouth as he went to speak so he shoved the whole lot in, then answered the call. And other little, funny moments that I know we are going to remember.

New Caledonia is such a mix of stunning white beaches and aqua water, and a topsy-turvy culture. We’ll be catching up with friends of a friend in Noumea who works for the NZ High Commission – I’m looking forward to understanding all this more. We can’t of course read the newspapers because it’s in French. Everything is in French. This is not France. This is New Caledonia.

The landscape has been savaged by 100 years of nickel mining, used for stainless steel and other products. It’s very sad to see. The blood orange ridges of these mountains have been severed and their innards turned out, left grotesque. It’s killing the coral and kids swim in red muck. There are ‘private mining villages’ marked on our chart. How can anyone own a bloody village? It makes my blood boil. Apparently there are a handful of French families who own the mines around the country (and responsible for more than a few environmental disasters). Again, we know nothing.

We were pretty much told not to go down the East Coast (the ‘Forgotten Coast’) of the main island, Grande Terre, because of the destroyed landscape and lack of white sandy beaches (that postcard stuff really does get in the way of other more interesting experiences). Also, we were told that the trade winds tear up the East Coast and it can be hard to head south. All bad advice.

We loved the isolation and realness of the East Coast, even if its upset. But there’s room in adventure for fiercely being yourself, otherwise you end up as one of the not-really-happy people in the postcards.

And we did find a little piece of heaven – a gorgeous inlet just after the entrance to Baie Laugier. No boats, no people; just nature and us. I really needed this kind of space and it was nice for Dean and me to totally relax, just us. I got up at sunrise and took my beanbag to the front of the deck and fell in love again with birdsong and the waking of a day.

We moved further down the coast: At Thio we found a group of women playing Bingo in an outdoor shelter and bought some local umu-style food which we think was pork; then because adventure is so exhausting (really) we stayed two nights at Port Bouquet; then it was on to the mining town of Yate where we found a little shop run by the Chief’s wife. The friendly (white, French, from France) collage Principal showed us where it was and translated for us. I told the Chief’s wife that she smelt like lovely soap and she thought that was hilarious. Now we’re at Isle Quen and looking for walks. We met the caretakers of a private house here yesterday. They were from Malakula, in Vanuatu, and had tears in their eyes when we talked about Cyclone Pam.

I cut my own hair. Oh dear. It’s been six months and I was looking a bit feral, but now I just look stupid. My hairdresser is either going to laugh or go quiet when she sees me in November.  Thank god for hair bands.

Current favourite cocktail:  Chessie Lady – champagne, vodka and cointreau.