Hunting Paradise in New Caledonia

« Return to New Caledonia

After celebrating Phillipe’s birthday with his family and several bottles of real champagne, we caught an early, two-hour fast ferry to the Ile Des Pines (the Island of Pines) to hand feed luminous fish in the natural aquarium. Through some freak of nature, the ocean crashes against a reef in the island, creating a sparkling clear pool bubbling with life. With a slice of bread, mask and snorkel, you can stand in the water as thousands of tropical fish swim in and around you - like some of the best scuba diving you’ll ever do, except you can stand in the water without an oxygen tank or overpriced training certificate. If goosebumps could dance, mine would have salsa’d all the way to the Latin American Finals. Ile Des Pins also had the best beach I’ve come across my entire trip, as fine and white as flour, the water as blue and warm as the innards of a lava lamp. Walking along a stunning sea channel, I felt that special buzz of truly discovering one of our planet’s glowing jewels, hidden deep down in its cleavage, as if only for the eyes of its most persistent lover. Whatever that means.

By now I had regained the skin colour of Corfu, but Phillipe was lamenting the rainy season. For the rain came these last few days, a drizzle and downpour, although always hot and humid. We ate, we drank, we reflected. Most of his friends spoke only French, so I often felt like I was watching an art-house movie without the subtitles. I did study French for a year when I was 13, but the schoolteacher, a Miss Letao, wore these tight mini dresses, and lets just say that grammar was the last thing on my mind. Merde! On my last day, Phillipe treated me to a Seadoo adventure, wave bashing and jetskiing over the stormy sea at speeds of up to 80 km/hr. As I have had the great fortune to experience so many times these last twelve months, it was far too much fun than I deserve.

Poor Phillipe. Just as he had adjusted back into normal life, along comes Modern Gonzo to shake it all up. Even on a tropical island paradise, earning good money, surrounded by beautiful women, the travel bug bites like a pit-bull (or perhaps, a Tasmanian Devil). As for me, my week in beautiful New Caledonia, hosted with a sincere generosity beyond the call of duty, was the perfect cocktail of exoticness, natural wonders, gastronomic delights, and unashamedly pure adventure for the He-Man within. As we drove to the airport, a bright rainbow arched from the lush green, mountains into the sparkling, blue sea. A fitting au revoir to a good friend, and the last country I’d truly explore before the end of my twelve-month odyssey.

Nomad Skylodge
Nadi, Fiji

Gonzo Gallery for Hunting Paradise in New Caledonia

view full gallery

Tweet