29 October 2010
Although only 130nm distant this island is nothing like Mauritius. Ile Maurice, Rodrigues and La Reunion are collectively known as Les Marcareignes, but from we have seen so far they are vastly different. Although it is the biggest of the group the population is less with around three quarters of a million inhabitants, mainly living on or near the coast as the island's interior is very mountainous. The influence here is very definitely French, the main and what seems like the only language spoken, French! However the cuisine was much more Creole and very good it was too. Being a department of France it is subsidised by them and the European Union but it did give the impression of being fairly self supporting also with exports from the production of sugar cane, coffee, vanilla, bananas, and a good dash of tourism thrown in. The second day we spent driving down the west coast stopping for morning coffee in St Gilles, described in the guide book as the St Tropez of the island. As soon as we stepped onto the deserted beach a loud hailer warned us off. Although the tsunami had passed through in the early hours, the restrictions were still in operation and all the beaches remained closed. We lunched in another seaside town of St Leu further down the coast and then drove up through a plateau covered in sugar cane fields and on into the highlands as far as the tree llne. It was like being in up in an alpine valley. No wonder that this island is so popular with German walking parties. Arum lilies were growing wild all around and the whole area had been extensively cultivated as a rambling woodland garden, pathways lined with geranium, hibiscus and bourgainvillea. The latter was named after French navigator Louis de Bourgainville who introduced the plant from Brazil. Hibiscus is the emblem flower of the island. With the light beginning to fade we could not make it in time to walk to the viewpoint of La Fenetre. The mountain roads are so tortuous and steep that merely looking at the map is deceptive. It would take a lot more than our four days to really do justice to this incredible island. We checked into our hotel in Petite Ile, next to neighbouring town of St Pierre. A shade more downmarket than last night's, but after sundowners on our balcony and dinner we were too tired for it to matter. The room was clean, the beds comfortable. St Pierre has a small marina and it was just as well that the rally did not decide to make this our base as the entrance looked very narrow with little space for boats of any size. Next morning a friendly reception clerk at the hotel suggested we went to the waterfall at on the Langevin River in Grand Galet. He said it was not to be missed. The road leading up to it was so tortuous and steep I thought out little car might not make it but I am so glad we did. It was every bit worth the effort. We have seen many waterfalls throughout our travels on Mauritius and Reunion but this was by far the most spectacular.
The south east corner is quite the prettiest part but now the coastline becomes more rugged. Half of the island is dedicated to female names and half to male, the male principally from the northwest to south east and the female, east to north east. Why that should be I do not know. We drove through banana plantations, lovely in the dappled early morning sunlight and through tiny hamlets, the houses typically Creole with their French style window shutters, cyclone roofs in all colours of the rainbow and garden a mass of colourful flowers. Cap Mechant, named 'Threatening Cape' by local fishermen, was our next stop. Here vacoa or pandanus trees smother the surrounding area and were even welded into the lava cliff side landscape. At the Pointe du Tremblet we looked out over the sea, today a mass of angry white horses. It felt so good not to be out there. Approaching the south west corner of the island, steep escarpment suddenly gave way to the harsh black jagged lava flows of the island's volcano, Piton de la Fournaise, wreathed in thick grey cloud, the heat from the lava flows shimmering in the midday sun, a stark contrast. It had its last serious eruption 2007 and in many places we could follow the lava flow as it crossed the tarmac road and continued all the way down to the sea. There are known as the Brule slopes. All along the route there were lots of picnic sites, wooden benches and tables set amongst shady trees. On up the e ast side at St Rose we saw for ourselves the miracle of the little Catholic church. In 1977 a lava flow engulfed most of the town, surrounded the church but stopped at the door. Lunch was at L'Anse des Cascades, a beach location with several waterfalls emerging from the precipitous cliffs that rose vertically about 50 metres from the beach. The menu was typical Creole. David and I had a prawn and papaya gratin, goat curry and banana flambé. Our last stop was at Niagara waterfall outside the town of St. Suzanne. However it was an insignificant display compared to its famous counterpart. Here you could scale its heights, traverse above the falls and abseil down the other side, ending with a death slide. Not for those with a fear of heights. The river bank was banked by giant bamboo amid fields of sugarcane.
We returned to the boat and had a plague of moths the like of which we have never seen before. It was quite impossible for us to sit in Voyageur's cockpit let alone, neighbouring Dodo Cafe. We swatted and sprayed and still they kept coming. I honestly don't know how we can suffer this until our departure on Saturday. We now learn that it is not normally like this. It is due to a recent delivery of grain to the port.
Our fourth and last day we saved for a visit into St Denis, the islands capital, and the largest French city overseas. The traffic at rush hour is the same of any big city, nose to tail. Riot police were once more out in force in anticipation of more student protests. They do not stand for any nonsense. The city has done well in preserving its Creole architecture. We popped in and out of many sites of interest, L'Hotel de Ville (Town Hall), and other beautiful buildings that had been converted into museums and art galleries. This Creole architecture is embellished with the lambrequin, a wooden or metallic ornamental hanging covering the lower part of the roof. Many also have decorative balconies or verandas. The central handcraft market was packed with colourful basket ware and linen but I managed to resist just, saving my spending money for our South Africa trip. Lots of chic shops suggested the fact that this island is comparatively prosperous, compared with its poorer neighbour, Mauritius. With dinner to cook for six, (we had invited Irene and Dick and Jenny and John), and a final provisioning shop at the local hypermarket, there was not the time to explore further but it was enough to give a flavour of the place.
Susan Mackay