Ils des Pin, New Caledonia

November 6, 2009
Fiji to New Caledonia; Meeting Christian and Hannelore on SV Donella

Fiji to New Caledonia

It is the most gentle sail into the Isle of Pines. A straight tack form Kadavu, Fiji to the edges of New Caledonia. The nights are chilly. I’d stand my watches with fleece warming my body. I watch for that extraordinary moon rise just starboard aft—to the stern.

It is a spellbinding sight. A great blood orange full moon peeking from behind the horizon—rising—fast, shining its light on our passage, paling with height, then falling just starboard off our bow as the sun rises.

I am weary. My body aches. I am fatigued by the broken pattern of sleep. My eyes are infected or feel like I have a beach full of sand in them and my tooth suggests an ache-- the same molar repaired in Tahiti and again in Pago Pago.

“We’re going to have to ‘heave to’ tonight.” Russ says as the sun bids farewell to another day of shine. We linger awhile.

Then Russ tunes into the SSB 66.46 Upper Side Band. This is the frequency Christian Eckhoff uses to communicate weather to fellow sailors every night. He is the father of our friend Heike, whom we met 30 years ago in Tahiti, and his boat is called Donella. He spent many, many years in Zululand, South Africa.

“Ja ja, roger, roger, ja ja.” We hear these interspersions in German. Crackle crackle. Then we heard him say Zulu.

“Zulu, Zulu, this is Donella. Where are you?”

Russ tunes in and responds. “We are 18 miles from the Isle of Pines. We are going to have to ‘heave to’ and come in, in the morning. Over” He speaks into the microphone.

“Ag no man, you can come in tonight. There is plenty of water. Just follow the course to Ilot Inferno and you will find the light. Then turn into the shipping lane and head for Kuto Bay.” He responds.

“OK, we’ll do that. We’ll have our VHF on. Zulu clear.” Russ completes the call.

So we follow Christian’s advise. We navigate at night by electronic charts and find the one very important light on Ilot Inferno. The guiding light of all lights among the reefs.

“Zulu, Zulu. This is Donella. Are you OK?” Christian’s strong voice comes across the VHF.

“Yes Christian, we have the light in sight and will make the turn into the shipping channel in 10 minutes.” Russ responds.

“OK, OK. There is plenty of water. No risk. You’ll see lights on shore. There is a pier. Just be careful some of these buggers anchored don’t have their masthead lights on.” He comes back.

“OK, we will watch for them. Hope we don’t get our feet wet! Zulu clear.” Russ completes the communication.

We make the turn into the shipping channel. There is a cargo vessel ahead of us coming from the NW. We find the range markers and in we go and drop the hook in 34 ft of water. We do not get our feet wet! We are relieved.

It is 1:00 AM in the morning. We sleep through the rest of the night. All night. Heaven.

Meeting Christian and Hannelore on Donella

We start the next day a la crepes with honey, lemon, and cinnamon and coffee. Greet the perfect day. White billowy clouds, white ribbons of beach, turquoise water, palms and pines are our façade. A breeze caresses Zulu.



Donella coming into Kuto bay, Isle of Pines, to meet us.

Christian comes in from another bay and fetches us for tea and cake on Donella. I tell him how weary I am from sailing!! That facing 20 more days at sea, plus a coastal trip from Mooloolaba to Sydney, and a possible hair raising ride down from Lord Howe Island seems daunting at this point.

We had originally arranged to rent Christian’s mooring for the cyclone season via email—per Helmut off SV Lop To in Moorea-- but cancelled later when Australian sailors persuaded us to avoid a direct route to NZ. That it would guarantee a clobbering. We also had best friends we wanted to visit in Oz.

On the other hand New Zealand sailors would just raise their eyebrows at this idea when proposed it. And Christian has made the trip from New Zealand, where he lives, to New Caledonia 29 times!! He chooses his weather window, at times via Norfolk, and does not get clobbered.

Christian just listens as I reiterate reasoning for our next passage. I look tired. And he can see that.

“Our buoy has been rented to a chap from Cape Town, South Africa.” Hannelore, Christian’s wife informs us. My heart skips a beat.

“Come to NZ Christian says with a twinkle in his eye. I can get you another mooring just down from me from a friend of mine. He is a lawyer. He sold his boat. So you can have his mooring.” He says convincingly.

“You can fly to Australia to visit your friends. There are deals you can get on the internet. NZ$200 and you are there. Australia charges you $380 just to enter the country by yacht. NZ charges nothing.” He argues convincingly.

“That sounds real good! It is a deal I smile widely.” Russ and I make up our minds as we finish tea and cake.

“I’ll radio Claudia, my daughter, and tell her to tell the lawyer when he returns from Germany that I rented his buoy to you.”

Christian is a take charge no nonsense type person. The deal is done.
I drink about 5 cups of Rooibos tea and savour another slice of Hannelore’s ‘Donella’ cake. We talk about the days in South Africa. About Heike, their daughter, and Johnny, her husband, who live in Sweden and will soon pack up and return to live in NZ. Full circle completed.

I reminisce how 30 years ago we came across Donella in Tahiti with Heike and Johnny aboard. Christian and Hannelore were in South Africa taking care of business before finally leaving the country. We were snorkeling off the reefs then in 1979—the very ‘now dead reefs’ we anchored off this time in 2009.

“I feel like some scones and blackberry jam.” I said to Heike as I came up for breath, knowing that was not going to happen.

Back on Toti, our then 33ft hard chime plywood boat, we heard a call from Donella.

“Come for tea.” Heike called.

We dinghied over and there with tea were scones with blackberry jam! We became friends forever.

Heike is a masseuse and a vegetarian like me. Johnny is a blond hair blue-eyed Swede with a smile as wide as a complete set of piano keys.

We went out for dinner that night in Tahiti. There were six of us, including our South African friends Annie and Rob off Vela, and little Ian. Johnny told us the story of how he fell overboard in a storm in the Atlantic at night!!! How Christian had thrown a life ring over with a light that came on as the ring hit the water.

“I swam for that light for my life. That was my life. I would lose it and find it in between the mountainous seas. Then I got to it and held on!” He expounded. We listened in awe.

“Then Christian rescued me!!!!” He finished his story, animated, with a big smile, and wide eyed.

We all reached out and touched him that night long ago! Yes he is alive!! I remember we made a toast to his life and to Christian having saved it.

Later, in 1995 Christian lost Donella on an unmarked reef near Vanuatu. It was a wooden center-cockpit cutter, designed by Lauren Giles in England. He and Hannelore lived to tell that story. He also lived through a shark attack on Minerva reef where he had to be airlifted to NZ.

So many stories. So much time gone by. Now Christian is 78 years young. And Hannelore is 80. Wow!!!! They are both healthy and live with purpose. Christian is a top spear fisherman with lungs that hold air forever. And a sailor of all sailors.

Now in this beautiful Isle of Pines, we finish reminiscing and come back to the present.

“Ja you can follow me to NZ. We go to Norfolk Island first. Anchor on the roadstead. You can buy cheap shoes there!” He reassures us in a pleasing accent—a mix of South African and German.

I am excited and relieved.

Christian takes us ashore after tea and points the way to the boulangerie. Baguette time. He gives us FP$1000 as there are no banks to exchange money here.

We walk down the white, white, fine, perfect beach to where there is a break in the pines. Onto the road we walk and find the bakery inside a small shop.

“Troi baguettes si’l vous plait.” I ask.

The three baguettes are still warm. Russ virtually eats a whole one right away.

On our return to Kuto Bay, we find the ruins of the penal colony from the 1800s. All is overgrown and the walls are breaking down. These bricks and mortar were built to hold 3000 communards from Paris, followed by exiled prisoners, and political prisoners between 1822 and 1912.

We walk up some stairs through a gate, through shoulder high grass and into the dank cold prison. High walls, tiny cells, narrow barred windows high up. I stand still a long, long while in a damp, cold cell. The birds are singing. A sliver of blue sky with white clouds and a leafy branch of a tree is framed by the window. I take a deep, deep breath and say a prayer for the prisoners of today and yesteryear.

We return to the beach. The air is soooo fresh, so clean, so pure. The water is ice turquoise.

The pines bend in the wind. They are somewhat deformed and scraggly. It is these pines Captain Cook saw on the ridges of the islands when he first arrived. It reminded him of Scotland. So he named this group New Caledonia.

I breathe deeply again. We, too, have arrived in the Isle of Pines, Captain Cook’s New Caledonia. It is a happy day. And in the distant sunset I can see a future passage to New Zealand, via Norfolk Island with the sails of Donella in front, on the horizon.



Hannelore and Christian in their dinghy at at a cove off Urupukapuka Island, NZ.