The Kanak also have a natural optimism which seems to defy reason. I was unsure whether I wanted to take this road with a Peugeot 108. The lady in the tourism office encouraged me to do so: “the road is sealed up to the pass”. What she did not tell me is that the route à horaires begins after the pass. I should have known better.
Anyway, I embark on the trip and drive up from the coast into the mountains. When I ask the above question to another driver, just before the tough part began, he hesitates two seconds, and then says, “Oui, ca va”. Which means (once you are used to Kanak linguistic conventions) something between “I would not do it myself” and “Bloody shit, no!”
I survive the road in spite of my rusty driving skills. On the first 6km of the total 13km distance, I advance at an average speed of 5-10km/h. It would have been impossible to drive faster without running serious risk of damaging the bottom of the car. Huge potholes, dried stream beds, rocks and pebbles, … you name it. Since this is not exactly the place where you want to have a breakdown, my adrenaline levels are as high as when canyoning with Paul Griffiths. But also this time, no damage occurs, neither to me nor to the vehicle that surrounds me. I decide not to try my luck any more, and not to expose it to any further danger during the trip.
After that challenge, the road is sealed again and leads through the fertile valleys of the Canala region, a welcome change after the dramatic landscapes of the route à horaires. Although softer in profile, that road is also stunningly beautiful and--- perhaps even more important---it is in good shape.
Then, however, if you want to continue on the East coast, you face what I would like to call Saruman’s Road (the Caledonians call it "la route des mines"), and this is an experience of its own.
Between Kaouara and Houailou, there are 40-50 km of road which are usually passed over in the travel guidebooks in 1-2 sentences, if at all. “The road passes through an impressive landscape where you can also see what the mining exploits have done to nature.” While this description is correct and concise, it is much shorter than what is devoted to the other, in my opinion less spectactular routes transversales (i.e., roads which cross the Chaîne). Above all, the words do not do justice to the overwhelming and utterly bizarre experience of driving this road, especially in the Northbound direction.
It starts in the green valley of Kaouara, close to the sea, without any signboard that would indicate directions. Slowly, it passes through the mountains, getting ever more pot-holed as Nickel mines are in the vicinity, and crossing small rivers on ramshackle wooden bridges where I would even be careful with a bicycle. But what else can you do but to put your trust in God and to drive on? At some point, I ask myself whether I am on the right track, because I have not encountered a single vehicle in almost an hour. On the other hand, all side roads are mere dirt tracks, so I must be right. Also, I remember a word that I had encountered in driving lessons and that has had purely theoretical significance for me so far: Rollsplitt. Whatever this may be in English, it is all over the place. (Edit: "loose gravel" says my dictionary.)
At some point, the river crossings stop and the road starts to climb continuously upward, offering splendid views of the sea in the far distance, the green valleys below me, and the red rocks on the opposite side of the valley. All this lit by a radiant sun in a clear blue sky. At every moment you feel that this must be the end, but the road keeps climbing and climbing, curve after curve. I cannot help thinking of the endless and ever more grandiose melodic surges of a Bruckner symphony, where heaven itself seems to open to the listener.
Finally, at estimated 700m altitude, the summit is reached, opening up a panorama that pictures fail to express. From here, it is a sharp, unmitigated descent to the sea, passing through serpentines and proper mining sites.
This part of the road is a prime example of the power of what human greed can achieve when unabated by concerns for nature. That’s why I referred to Lord of the Rings above---it is the same story with the sorcerer Saruman who destroys the beauty of the valley he dwells in, in order to transform it into a giant industrial site and to extract the maximum for himself. There is a perverse, bizarre beauty in the mountains stripped of all vegetation that lie between the summit where I am, and the seaside where I am heading to. Their brownish red creates a most beautiful contrast with the deep blue sea water behind them. I pass through them with a feeling of sadness, again slowing down considerably for potholes and Rollsplitt. Which means that I have to drive at pedestrian’s pace, not unlike the route à horaires. When I reach the coast and the bends and turns come to an end, I am relieved.
My water reserves are finished and I am extremely happy to find a open grocery store in the village of Houailou. (I will suffer a light dehydration nevertheless: the wind from the windows provides a nice breeze on this 32°C day, but it also leads you underestimate the sun and the heat.) From now on, the road is in good state and passes smoothly along the green East coast, here and then interrupted by a tribu (=a Kanak village) where local farmers and hunters live. I stop at a waterfall by the road and take a refreshing bath in the cool waters. When I arrive around 17h in Poindimié, just in time before sunset, I have driven more than six hours and advanced 200km. Time for a proper bed, dinner and sleep.
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