Seeing Mauritius….  Sunday, 20/10/2024

I’ve spent a few very pleasant days in Mauritius. I hired a car for two days, which enabled me to see the island pretty well. Mauritius is small: about 800 square miles or 2,000 square kilometres. The fact that I drove 250 miles/400km means that I saw most of it. 

If Mauritius has a problem, it is its relatively large population: about 1.4 million people, a lot for a small territory. No wonder only 2% of its natural forest remains. Basically, the population is concentrated on the west coast, the north west in particular. The south of the island is the most wild: mountains and some forest, relatively few people. The east coast is generally very attractive: some very scenic bays and beaches. 

My first destination was the extreme southwest, to climb the mountain of Le Morne. I knew from my daughter Anna, who visited here a few years ago, that this was not an easy matter. Starting from sea level, the first 3 km or so is nothing difficult: a path up through lovely coastal forest, reasonably steep in parts. Then you face the last 750 metres – which doesn’t sound much, but most of the time you are scrambling up rocks. One particular stretch, which must climb a good 6 or 8 floors, is really tough: you’re looking for handholds on the rock and literally pulling yourself up, stopping on very small ledges. It is the most challenging “mountain walk” that I have done, and I’ve done plenty in the course of my voyage. My body hurt the morning after. 

There were plenty of people doing it; unsurprisingly, most were in their 20s and 30s. This was good: if I’d been alone there I would not have attempted it. But seeing people who looked less fit than myself, or wearing the flimsiest of shoes, gave me the confidence to say: if they can do it, I certainly can! I followed the old rule: don’t look down! (Even coming back down, over the most difficult parts, I simply went backwards – much easier that way, and you don’t really see the drop below you). One thing that was very enjoyable was the camaraderie – everyone was talking to everyone else, keeping the atmosphere very upbeat. There are all sorts of health warnings at the start of the trail, including warnings not to attempt it if there has been or is likely to be rain. But I’m sure there must be at least a couple of serious accidents – deaths – a year. In a couple of places, if you lost your grip you would fall 100 metres; even if you just fell a couple of floors onto rocks you would end up in rather bad shape. However, the views did make it worthwhile. The height isn’t that great: 490 metres (about 1,600 feet), but you have a fantastic view north over both the west and the east coasts, and the high central plateau in between. 

Another place I visited was Grand Bassin. It’s a sacred lake, on the high plateau, and is the site of several Hindu temples. Great place, charming atmosphere, lots of colour – typical of Hinduism: the liveliest and most exuberant of religions. It really felt special. Even the repetitive chant broadcast through speakers at one temple, and the antics of monkeys helping themselves to the fruit offerings of the faithful, didn’t detract from the stillness of the lake. Impressive place. 

Apart from that, I drove the entire east coast, the road in many places winding along the edge of the ocean, with cliffs/mountains rising above. Some beautiful bays. All-in-all, Mauritius is a lovely island and the people extremely pleasant, polite and friendly. Most of the population are Indians; nearly everyone speaks Mauritian Creole, which is heavily based on French. French and English are taught in the schools. English is the language of Parliament, although some government departments operate largely in French. So very multilingual.

Tourists here – and there are many – are a mix. Lots of different Europeans, as well as South Africans. The French are probably the largest single contingent: much like in French Polynesia or in Martinique or Guadeloupe in the Caribbean. They clearly view Mauritius as “French” – fair enough, although of course overlooking the fact that the British seized it from them in about 1800. Haha. 

Some things are hit and miss here. I had a strange car hire experience. I had reserved the car for delivery at the gates of the yacht club for 09:00 on Thursday morning. Well, on Wednesday, sitting on the boat just after 5pm, I got a phone call on my U.K. mobile number: a guy saying that he was waiting for me at the gate. But, I said, you’re 16 hours early! Oh yes, I know sir, but we are busy and we didn’t need the car tonight so we thought we’d deliver it now, no extra charge. First time that’s happened to me. Then for collection at 9am Saturday, after half an hour no one had come. I managed to get through to someone using the yacht club’s Wi-Fi, and he told me that he was “on the east coast”. I said: But you’re two hours away! Yes, that’s right – don’t worry, just leave the key with the watchman on the gate. About three hours later, when I went ashore again, the car was gone… No complaints: the car, a little Suzuki, was new, only 3,000 km on the clock. Just fairly bizarre business practices: your 48 hour rental turns out to be 66 hours. Avis or Hertz wouldn’t do that.

The weather has been great: maximum 27 degrees, minimum of 21 or 22. Ideal really. I did encounter rain, but that was on the central plateau, which is common: any cloud coming in from the sea sits there for a while – rather than “rain” you’re really just inside a cloud. Rainfall on the coast is typically modest, 750mm (30 inches) a year; up there it’s double that: 1,500mm. And much cooler: probably 5 degrees cooler. I saw cabbages and carrots growing, rather than bananas and pineapples. Huge change in a very short distance, no more than a few miles. 

Tomorrow morning I shall up anchor at sunrise, which is at about 05:35, and travel back down the coast to Port Louis to check out by 09:00. It’s compulsory to check out there. And then I have a simple 135 nautical mile sail westwards to Reunion. Looks like there will be close to 20 knots of wind, so I should cover that within 24 hours. Easy, I hope – but with sailing you never know…