The next phase of our New Caledonian odyssey was to be spent on Lifou, one of the Loyalty Islands. We had the choice of three, the others being Mare and Ouvea, but because we thought there was more to see on Lifou, we chose it. The flight from Noumea’s downtown Magenta airport takes 35 minutes, in what appeared to be a sparkling new Air Caledonia aircraft. Industrial action amongst Air Caledonia staff was very apparent at Magenta, and some flights were cancelled, but mercifully, not ours. The airports at both ends were very busy, and 90% of the travellers were colourfully dressed Kanaks, grouped in large families. We joked that everyone seemed to know everyone else, but that noone knew us. The few Europeans on our flight were French, and maybe they were having a weekend break from the relative hustle and bustle of Noumea!
Lifou (local name Drehu) proved to be unbelieveably beautiful. It is an island maybe 50km tall by 20km wide. Development is very sparse, and the population very few. The few towns are hardly towns at all, with almost no shops or public buildings. The resident population is almost entirely native, and of them, mostly Kanaks we believe. The only non-natives we saw were tourists, easily recognisable by their little Aero rental cars, Hyundai Getz’s (like ours) or baby Citroens or Peugeots. The island is ringed by rugged cliffs interrupted by glistening white sandy beaches. Often, a fringing coral reef is evident only a few hundred metres off shore, inside which the water is a spectacular aquamarine in colour (not surprisingly), the depth of colour depends on the depth of the water and the state of the tide. But its clarity is dazzling. The cliffs, such as at Xodre on the south eastern corner, often plunge into deep water.
We stayed at the Drehu Village Resort which is on the beach in the biggest (!) town of We. This establishment is ultra-comfortable, the rooms are luxurious, and they have a fine French restaurant. Thanks to Dianne and Bel for recommending we upgrade to a suite here. We had all our breakfasts (awfully expensive) and two out of our three dinners at the Drehu Village. The other night we ventured out of town to eat at the Oasis Kiamu, a very intimate affair (for much of meal, we were the only diners), and it was a stern test of our French language skills. There is not much to choose from on Lifou, it’s all pricey, and one thing that discourages our usual eating spontaneity is that, no matter where you eat, you are asked to book up to 24 hours in advance. Not surprisingly, the “local” restaurants specialise in seafood, and the menus sounded much like we could get in Sydney for half the price, so we stuck mostly to French eateries.
Beautiful beaches here are too numerous to mention, but ones we swam at include the Baie de Chateaubriand (at We), Jozip (where the Oasis Restaurant is) and the Baie de Luengoni. But the best of all was Peng, 4km down a rough dirt road (this does not discourage French tourists driving rental voitures. Peng is a spectacular ultra-white beach, renowned for its seclusion, but there were at least two other families there during our visit. There is no surf, just clear blue water, quite smooth if there is no wind. At Peng, one of the families had about 4 young children, and it was great to see that they could swim, and were extremely at home in the water (we don’t know how they would respond to surf). They had an inflatable canoe, and we figured that they must have arrived on Lifou on the ferry which plies between Noumea and We, we don’t know how often, it’s quite a trek.
For an island which is so sparsely populated, it is surprising that nudity is verboten on all beaches. It is not stated, but this is out of respect to the native population who are always well covered. Their sensibilities in this matter are somewhat unexpected since many of their totems feature topless warrior maidens! The French, rather more accustomed to skinny dipping than the Kanaks, seem to accept these restrictions reluctantly but gracefully. By the way, it is more than apparent and not at all surprising that the local population are well adapted to the ocean. The children especially seem to enjoy swimming, diving in and out with squeals of joy, and have taken up modern trappings of windsurfing pretty successfully by the look of it.
The only industry we noted on Lifou is that of vanilla bean plantations. For a small fee, many plantations will provide a guided tour, not much good to us, they are all in French.
The cliffs at Jokin are worth a special mention. They are spectacular in themselves, but what really amazes is the coral reefs and crystal clear water at the bottom. There is a steep path down the cliff at Jokin, and you can get in and swim/snorkel, but the access to and from the water is perilous. Arriving at the top of these cliffs in our Getz, we found the road obstructed by a tree trunk, placed there by two boys who explained (we think) that they wanted us to go round the church another way out of respect to the service taking place (it was Sunday morning).
Nearby, is the Baie du Santal, a particularly beautiful bay apparently visited by P&O Cruise ships. Their passengers are tendered to the miniscule town of Xepenehe/Easo and from there they can visit a church on the headland, Notre Dame de Lourds. It’s apparent this rather inaccessible church is not used much any more, but it seems to be well visited by devout or interested Catholic tourists.The next phase of our New Caledonian odyssey was to be spent on Lifou, one of the Loyalty Islands. We had the choice of three, the others being Mare and Ouvea, but because we thought there was more to see on Lifou, we chose it. The flight from Noumea’s downtown Magenta airport takes 35 minutes, in what appeared to be a sparkling new Air Caledonia aircraft. Industrial action amongst Air Caledonia staff was very apparent at Magenta, and some flights were cancelled, but mercifully, not ours.
The airports at both ends were very busy, and 90% of the travellers were colourfully dressed Kanaks, grouped in large families. We joked that everyone seemed to know everyone else, but that noone knew us. The few Europeans on our flight were French, and maybe they were having a weekend break from the relative hustle and bustle of Noumea!
Lifou (local name Drehu) proved to be unbelieveably beautiful. It is an island maybe 50km tall by 20km wide. Development is very sparse, and the population very few. The few towns are hardly towns at all, with almost no shops or public buildings. The resident population is almost entirely native, and of them, mostly Kanaks we believe. The only non-natives we saw were tourists, easily recognisable by their little Aero rental cars, Hyundai Getz’s (like ours) or baby Citroens or Peugeots. The island is ringed by rugged cliffs interrupted by glistening white sandy beaches. Often, a fringing coral reef is evident only a few hundred metres off shore, inside which the water is a spectacular aquamarine in colour (not surprisingly), the depth of colour depends on the depth of the water and the state of the tide. But its clarity is dazzling. The cliffs, such as at Xodre on the south eastern corner, often plunge into deep water.
We stayed at the Drehu Village Resort which is on the beach in the biggest (!) town of We. This establishment is ultra-comfortable, the rooms are luxurious, and they have a fine French restaurant. We had all our breakfasts (awfully expensive) and two out of our three dinners here. The other night we ventured out of town to eat at the Oasis Kiamu, a very intimate affair (for much of meal, we were the only diners), and it was a stern test of our French language skills. There is not much to choose from on Lifou, it’s all pricey, and one thing that discourages our usual eating spontaneity is that, no matter where you eat, you are asked to book up to 24 hours in advance. Not surprisingly, the “local” restaurants specialise in seafood, and the menus sounded much like we could get in Sydney for half the price, so we stuck mostly to French eateries.
Beautiful beaches here are too numerous to mention, but ones we swam at include the Baie de Chateaubriand (at We), Jozip (where the Oasis Restaurant is) and the Baie de Luengoni. But the best of all was Peng, 4km down a rough dirt road (this does not discourage French tourists driving rental voitures. Peng is a spectacular ultra-white beach, renowned for its seclusion, but there were at least two other families there during our visit. There is no surf, just clear blue water, quite smooth if there is no wind. At Peng, one of the families had about 4 young children, and it was great to see that they could swim, and were extremely at home in the water (we don’t know how they would respond to surf). They had an inflatable canoe, and we figured that they must have arrived on Lifou on the ferry which plies between Noumea and We, we don’t know how often, it’s quite a trek.
For an island which is so sparsely populated, it is surprising that nudity is verboten on all beaches. It is not stated, but this is out of respect to the native population who are always well covered. Their sensibilities in this matter are somewhat unexpected since many of their totems feature topless warrior maidens! The French, rather more accustomed to skinny dipping than the Kanaks, seem to accept these restrictions reluctantly but gracefully. By the way, it is more than apparent and not at all surprising that the local population are well adapted to the ocean. The children especially seem to enjoy swimming, diving in and out with squeals of joy, and have taken up modern trappings of windsurfing pretty successfully by the look of it.
The only industry we noted on Lifou is that of vanilla bean plantations. For a small fee, many plantations will provide a guided tour, not much good to us, they are all in French.
The cliffs at Jokin are worth a special mention. They are spectacular in themselves, but what really amazes is the coral reefs and crystal clear water at the bottom. There is a steep path down the cliff at Jokin, and you can get in and swim/snorkel, but the access to and from the water is perilous. Arriving at the top of these cliffs in our Getz, we found the road obstructed by a tree trunk, placed there by two boys who explained (we think) that they wanted us to go round the church another way out of respect to the service taking place (it was Sunday morning).
Nearby, is the Baie du Santal, a particularly beautiful bay apparently visited by P&O Cruise ships. Their passengers are tendered to the miniscule town of Xepenehe/Easo and from there they can visit a church on the headland, Notre Dame de Lourds. It’s apparent this rather inaccessible church is not used much any more, but it seems to be well visited by devout or interested Catholic tourists.
Lifou is somewhat cursed with litter, plastic bags and beer cans. We suspect that tourists are not to blame for this. But the townships of Mu and Xodre are trying to address the problem with a clean-up campaign apparent, and it is clearly paying off, because this part of the island was notably better than elsewhere. We rested at a beach reserve at Mu where the benefits of this campaign were manifest. There were clean and tidy tables and chairs, and a beach shower which we took advantage of and would put most in Australia, even at Bondi, to shame. Congratulations to this township!
As we found in Paris, many people in this outpost of Lifou are much more competent at English than we are at French. It’s surely a credit to the education system. People will burst into English of a high quality when they hear our pathetic attempts to converse in their language. It’s rather embarrassing. We overheard a Japanese businessman speaking fluent French at the hotel. Is it not a curse of the English speaking world that we tend to be monolingual?
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