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"Babe, check this out! This island is surrounded in turquoise, even on the chart," I exclaimed. As we gazed at New Caledonia (700 nm off the NE coast of Australia), the south coast was studded with coral reef. Perfect. With waypoints entered, routes planned, and weather gathered, we set sail from Fiji, making landfall after several days of running before a stiff breeze on Scud, our 44’ catamaran. On board were our teen sons, Adam and Warren, on hiatus before heading into adult lives of their own.

As we headed offshore from Noumea to the outer reef, Adam landed a magnificent mahi-mahi which ended up as tasty sushi on our dinner plates. Upon reaching the outer lagoon waters, our sports-minded sons hit the big waves before taking the plunge into the deep. Without a soul around to crowd the line-up, they were in surfer’s paradise – just a short paddle off our stern. After few cool dude and sweet wave reminisces emitted at the end of their surf session, we all donned our gear to tumble over the stern.

Caution dictated we be aware. Snorkeling in remote areas without cell phone coverage, 911 calls will not bring the Infantry if an emergency arises. Pacific reef diving is not for the faint hearted: venomous snakes and sharks are ubiquitous in New Caledonia waters. The highly venomous yellow-banded sea snake (Tricot Raye) is a regular resident, preying on eels and fish. Currently, there’s no anti-venom on the island, even if you were lucky enough to be within 30 minutes of a clinic – we were a two day sail away. Only the occasional French Air Force cruised overhead on the prowl for suspicious activity. So, I sought advice from Don, a circumnavigator and avid diver. "Just ease them gently away when they crawl into your suit. Never panic," he said calmly.

"What?" I shouted with alarm, becoming horrified.

Don added, "They’re cold-blooded, just looking for a warm place to rest. They glide onto my surfboard all the time when I’m in the line-up." With rear fangs, it’s difficult for the snake to bite, he went on to explain. Being very shy creatures, they avoid human contact, unless provoked.

Not wanting to be an oven in disguise, I made sure I didn’t have any pretty little pockets or hidey holes in my sleek, spanking new French bikini.

Taking the plunge, we puttered along, drifting with the currents, enjoying the ride. A kaleidoscope of brain and mushroom corals sprouted from the seafloor, becoming a fuzzy blur as we glided by. We were suspended in liquid air. The corals blended together like a French impressionist Monet painting, aglow in colorful pastels.

Gleaning dinner from the branches were vibrant rainbow parrot fish, pulverizing rock-hard corals for nutrients with their beaks. As we gently glided along the surface, we drifted over a green turtle at rest under lacy lavender gorgonians. Alerted to our presence, it darted off into the depths beyond, and we stroked hard to follow its trail. Out of blue haze, a torpedo appeared, as if on target: a grey reef shark on the prowl for unwary prey. Uninterested, it meandered by, and we stared in wonder at its sleek, tapering body as it passed. We relaxed and soon three graceful spotted leopard rays came into view below us, stroking their long wings in unison like a ballerina dance on stage. A melody arose in my soul, and I hummed silently to myself, imagining I was a part of their formation.

Suddenly, with my head down, relaxed with the show, I nearly collided with a Tricot Raye sea snake, as it was swimming along the surface directly in front of me. His dragon-face loomed large at the face of my mask, and I panicked in sudden shock (Don did say not to do that!). I fiercely back-peddled, like a car slamming on brakes. The serpent did an abrupt 90 degree plummet down to the seafloor, its meter-long body stretching into a thick pencil line appearing otherworldly underwater. His paddle tipped tail left a small ripple, as he spun about. The sight was terrifying, and then became beautiful to observe. Yellow banded stripes glistened in the blazing sun, and it scurried into the reef, nosing under coral ledges for eels.

Twice more we encountered them, and each time we became more accustomed to their presence, simply changing course to give way, reveling in their rare company. But I learned to lift my head on every odd stroke to be fore-warned of their curious approach.

Moving on, we saw glorious live shells, and the denuded hulks of dead ones, scattered across the sea floor about the reef. A cone shell caught my attention and I finned down for a closer look. These brown speckled, kiwi-sized shells are more venomous than the Tricot Raye sea snake, as they fire a poisonous nerve dart that paralyzes the unwary swimmer. NO anti-venom or treatment exists anywhere, and we were a two day sail from any clinic…or morgue. (When snorkeling in Fiji with my cruising buddy Sue Hacking, aboard Ocelot, with her family, we gathered the pernicious cone shells with wooden galley spoons, our arms outstretched as we peered beneath the proboscis for the vivid red dart. Nodding our heads underwater, we mumbled into our snorkels, emitting a distorted, animated dialogue between us, like two zealous marine biologists onto a new discovery.)

Peter and I had separated from our sons when they became lost in the chase of a swift snapper. As we drifted over the reef, I finned up close to a tiny clown fish, captivated by its territorial behavior by its host, the sea anemone. The adorable orange fish darted back and forth, tail fanning hard, trying to scare me off, a little guy like him against big ‘ole me!

Returning back to Scud, our snorkel fins were left to dry as we languished on the pontoons of our catamaran sharing our favorite parts of the spectacular dive. Once terrified of the deadly habits of the Tricot Raye sea snake and cone shell, their habits had become benign and we’d become accustomed to their presence, giving them the respect they required. They were, after all, inhabitants of this great reef, and we were in their territory.

Editor's Note: Information on cruising New Caledonia can be found in the following cruising guides:

South Pacific Cruising

Southern New Caledonia Cruising Notes

For more information on sea snakes, cone shells and other marine creatures that sting or bite, Bruce W. Halstead has a great book out called Dangerous Marine Animals.

About the Author: Tina Dreffin, and her husband, Peter, are currently into their 3^rd year circumnavigating the globe on Scud, their South African-built 44’ catamaran.

At the time of this writing, they were headed west across the South Pacific to New Caledonia, en route to Australia for cyclone season. On board were their teen sons Adam and Warren, who have since moved on to lives of their own.

Their colorful website: www.yachtscud.com