Hibiscus blooms the size of grapefruit hang from twisting vines

We arrive in La Foa, known for the Passerelle Marguerite, abridge built by students of Gustave Eiffel, in the early afternoon.Our Hotel Banu, with its reputation for serving the best food northof the capital, is the first star on the map. It's a small,unassuming town, a sharp contrast to the glitzy condominiums andopen affluence of Noumea. Attractions, which include a pretty butcrumbling church, L'eglise SaintVincent de Paul, cinema JeanPaulJeunet (of Amelie and Delicatessen fame), the closed and desolate Fort Teremba, are few, so we head to the tiny hilltop towns of Farino and Sarramea to take in the views. The following day, we head north again to Bourail, the island'ssecondlargest town, visiting the Bonhomme (literally "the fellow",a peculiarly shaped rock by Poe beach) and the Baie des Tortues no tortoise to mention along the way. A tiny museum is Bourail's main calling card. Rimmed by a stonewall, which prophetically reads, in French, "what we know is littlecompared with what we don't know", the building once served as astorehouse where convicts could find food and supplies after theirrelease. Today, the rooms tell the story of New Caledonia's settlement through blackand white photos, antique furniture andfarming equipment, while adjoining rooms contain Kanak tribalartifacts. From Bourail, we join the Col des Rousssettes for Houailou. Theroute, despite being sealed, is a treacherously narrow, windingpathway and, after a series of near headoncollisions, we slow toa crawl, battling car sickness as the road twists over peaks, divesinto valleys, and resumes climbing a Peugeot rollercoaster. In Poindimie we again follow Henri's advice and head for leTapoundari, a restaurant overlooking the thick, brown belly ofPoindimie River. Dark skies wash over, a school bus filled withchildren shuttles past the door and Rosetta Stone Italian kids trot ponies along theriver bank. From Poindimie, the route instantly becomes very beautiful. Theroad meanders along the coastline, skips over rivers on the backsof quaint, old iron bridges and coconut palms form long, dappledavenues on either side of the road. The names of passing villagesare announced by wooden signposts engraved with traditional Kanakmotifs, and the white faces of colonial churches peer out from thejungle, their brightly painted doors flashing red between walls ofgreen. Now and again, stalls selling bananas, bunches of flowers,shells or carved wooden ornaments loom by the roadside and lonecyclists wave as we pass. We reach Hienghene in the late afternoon, finding the Point deVue (lookout) to watch rain clouds descend on Le Poulet, anenormous limestone cliff that juts out of Hienghene Bay lookingmuch like, well, a chook. When the storm passes, we find the trackto the nearby Linderalique Cliffs, which soar from the water in awall of jagged, black limestone. Our unlikely accommodation, Club Med, sits just outside town. Atiny huddle of mudhuts with thatched roofs, the rooms are designedafter the traditional Kanak villages of the region. Circled by coconut palms and positioned metres from the water's edge, I'm relieved to find it relatively deserted. The following day we meet with Sylvanna, from the Hienghenetourist office, who takes us north along the coast road to the Ouaieme bac, the last surviving river ferry in New Caledonia. Thisstretch of road linking Hienghene and Pouebo is remarkable. On oneside of the route, better described as a large footpath, sheercliffs soar, rippling into deepgreen peaks veined by waterfallsand sewn with ferns and palms. On the opposite side, the groundplunges into the ocean, where waves pound scattered rows of blackrock and throw veils of salt across our path.

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