Poum is where the road runs out of patience. It lies at the far north-western tip of Grande Terre, on a coast that faces the open lagoon and the reefs beyond, and you arrive after hours of travel through ranchland, scrub and small villages. The place is tiny, with a population in the low thousands at most, a handful of shops, a church and a scattered seaside life that moves at the speed of the tide.
The country around is the real draw. Bush savannah dotted with niaouli trees, with their pale, papery bark, gives way to mangroves along the shore and views over a lagoon that is part of the New Caledonia lagoons listed by UNESCO. Dugongs and sea turtles live in these waters, though you are unlikely to see them from the road. The land here is quiet cattle country, where stockmen on horseback are still a common sight, and people take pride in a laid-back, rural identity that is a world away from Nouméa.
The riding is a pleasure of a particular kind. The road along the west coast is mostly well-surfaced and winding without being demanding, with long gentle bends through low hills, and wide views of the lagoon. There is little traffic once you leave the south, which tempts you to go faster than the surface deserves; potholes, loose gravel at the verges and livestock on the tarmac can all surprise you. The last stretch towards Poum narrows and the settlements spread out, which is part of its appeal.
Be sensible with fuel. Water, snacks and a spare layer in case of showers are cheap insurance.
Time the visit for the dry season, roughly May to October, when the air is clear and the heat is manageable. In the wet season rain can arrive suddenly and rivers rise across the road. At the end you can sit on the shore, watch the light fade over the lagoon, and feel that you have genuinely reached the far side of an island.