Thoughts From The Southern Mauritius

Monday morning, recovered from the spectacle for the day before, I decided to take a wander round Mahebourg’s famous Monday market. I have to say that I have seen more impressive markets but nevertheless managed to buy myself some souvenirs I will treasure forever; a set of the pins used in the Cavadee celebrations and a beautiful pink sari I will wear on posh evenings and dinners out. People always doubt be when I say I will wear these things back at home, but Brian brought me a beautiful Mauritian outfit with him last time he came and I wear it all the time on special occasions. My sari will be the same- although those skewers I have to say are likely to be used purely for decoration.

Despairing about how much money I had just spent, and clutching my beloved purchases I returned to the guesthouse to squirrel away my hoard before heading down to the beach. I did not expect to see a familiar face waiting for me when I returned. Dustin, an Australian backpacker I had met the day before who had moved on to the North had found his host and family ill and had thought it best to leave them to it and so was back for the last 3 days of his trip. This cheered me up as now I would have company at the beach!

Bird constructing its nest in Pamplemousse

We took the bus together to Blue Bay and walked back along the sand toward Point D’Esny till we found a quiet bit of beach. Here we made camp and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around in the lagoon, watching the waves breaking out to see and generally doing not very much. I found Dustin’s company entertaining and time passed quickly until my grumbling stomach warned that it might be time for lunch. So we headed back down the beach for a chicken curry before heading back to Mahebourg for the evening.

Tuesday’s plan had been to hunt out some surf for Dustin but when we went down for breakfast the guesthouse had a new lone guest to add to our party- Malika. A French nurse of Moroccan descent Malika has been working on Reunion Island for the past few years. Her plan for the day was a trip to Port Louis and the infamous Pamplemousses.

So this makeshift threesome braved the bus to Port Louis. We visited the market and China Town and wandered a little through the city. I think we chose wrong because the market was a bit of a disappointment- commercial and touristic it had little to offer when compared to the sprawling mazes of Tana. I was surprised to see also that most of the souvenirs on offer here, bags and dolls, spices and baskets, have all been made in Madagascar with happy Dodos and “Welcome to Mauritius” embroidered on top. I was pleased to get back on the bus to Pamplemousses where we visited the botanical gardens- 75 hectares with thousands of plant species our 45 minute tour took us through the history of endemic and introduced flora from pre-colonial times to the present day. Far more interesting than I expected I was also rewarded with my first glimpse of a giant tortoise as well as some goats and deer that are kept in the park.

Famous water feature in Pamplemousse gardens

Wednesday morning I woke brimming with excitement. Today was Dustin’s last day and we had promised him some surf along the South coast, but there were also many natural wonders on the way which I was keen to explore so we decided to hire a driver to take us round for the day. For €20 per person I couldn’t have asked for more. 

Our first stop after breakfast was Grand Bassin, the hollow of a volcano that holds a sacred lake. It is said that Shiva was so taken by the island while he was flying over the world that he landed to admire it. When he did so a few drops of the Ganges, which he was carrying at the time, fell into a crater to form a lake. To appease the Ganges for having to leave a portion of itslef on the island, Shiva promised there would be an annual pilgrimage to its banks; and so there is.  Every year over half a million Hindu pilgrims come to give offerings to the lake, making it the largest Hindu celebration outside India. The lake itself is vast and attended to by a temple on its banks. Several statues line the water and offerings of coins, fruit and even gold can be seen in its waters. The sight is impressive, made more so by the giant statue of Shiva rising from the forest on the far side, watching over the lake.  Unfortunately no one seems to have told the local feral cats about the lake’s sanctity as they prowl the shore catching any sacred fish that happen to stray too close. And so, in a moment, a feeling of awe and holiness is made funny by a cat nabbing a sacred fish, it was with stifled giggles that we made our way back to the car, and left the cat to its lunch.

Cat eating sacred fish- HAHAHA... maybe you had to be there

Giant Shiva protecting the lake. And me now I would like to think... we had a connection

 Next stop was the Black River Gorge National Park where 2% of the island is covered in forests hiding giant bats, wild boar, deer and countless species of endemic flora. We stopped for a look over some stunning views of the park, with lush green forests sprawling across the mountains till it tails off into the sea. I even got a look at my first Mauritian waterfall, but unfortunately no animal sightings to report. After this it was back on the road toward Charamel, a sleepy village which houses two natural wonders; the ‘seven coloured sands’ and Chamarel waterfall. The former is an exposed section of dirt and sand, which displays the various layers created by the cooling of molten rock, as demonstrated by the various colours, with the added bonus of playing host to some very large tortoises. The latter is a single drop fall of over 95 meters, which was absolutely stunning and far more impressive than it seems in my pictures.

Charamel Falls, the unlikely trio

Seven Coloured Sands

Ahhh Christina- she is always making friends

 Then, with the sightseeing behind us it was on to surf hunting. With Dustin’s body board in the boot, Malika in her bikini and me with my brand new snorkelling mask it was time for the beaches. Our first stop was La Morne, where years ago hundreds of slaves who had fled their masters and had been living in the forest were unaware of the abolition of slavery on Febuary 1^st and, ignorant of their freedom, at the sight of white soldiers had thrown themselves off the cliffs to the beaches below rather than be recaptured. The beach lies in the shadow of the peak and is on Mauritius’ most South Westerly tip. This makes it great for water sports and is a favourite for surfers, body boarders and kite surfers alike. However, on this day Dusty was destined to be sorely disappointed; the cyclone making its way from Madagascar to Reunion had whipped up the winds and the sea was dark and unmanageable. The waves were enormous, breaking on the reefs that surround the island with a thunderous roar. It was a wise decision, therefore, that we moved on to a pleasant bay with its own reef for some snorkelling. The fish here are magical. They hide in the coral protecting their young and if you float over them too closely they fly out at you and even take a nibble sometimes. They are glorious colours, fluorescent and gleaming and I took great delight in identifying many as characters from popular children’s cartoons.

La Morne point off which slaves threw themselves to avoid recapture

 Our driver was not done with us yet though, and he piled us into his car again to take us to Rochester Falls. Dismissed in my guidebook as not very impressive I have to say I utterly disagree. The falls are a little outside the town of Souillac and when we arrived I didn’t expect much, but my excitement rose with the unique sound of powerful water exploding over rock. The waterfalls we had seen so far were very impressive, high drops into narrow pools and these are the falls that make it into books and photographs but they are actually not my favourite, and never have been. Often viewed from a distance these ‘long-drop’ falls appear to glide over the ledge and dangle like a silver ribbon in the breeze- they are almost balletic. I like my waterfalls loud, and fat- height isn’t as thrilling to me as the sheer mass of water barrelling over the lip, and if they can be jumped or swum in (automatically eliminating the highest and biggest) then they win my ultimate prize. Rochester Falls was perfect. Approached via some cane fields the sound become deafening and the forest trees reached out into the water, their roots visible beneath the pool. The falls were wide, powerful and tumbled over perfect hexagonal pillars of volcanic rock.  We quickly surmised we could swim here, as the pool was separated from the onward flow of the river by a deviation in the path and the falls pushed us safely back to shore if you got too close. Local men jumped from the heights, landing perfectly in the plunge pool and I even got to drink a coconut- one of the small delights that I never tired of, even in Cambodia, and always make me feel like an exotic castaway.

My favourite part to the day- Rochester Falls

 Exhausted and happy we piled back into the car and headed to our last sights of the day; the first of which was the most southerly point on the island, where on clear days you are supposed to be able to see Reunion. I did not see even a glimpse of Reunion, but as I scanned the water I did get an even bigger reward- a sea turtle rose from the azure water to fill its lungs before once more descending out of sight. Of coarse by the time I had pointed it out it had disappeared leaving everyone rolling their eyes at my wishful thinking and active imagination. Our final stop was the Gris Gris (‘black magic’) shoreline, where shards of black volcanic rock topped with lush vegetation appear to fall off the island into the sea. Here we stopped for a while to let Dustin reminisce about the waves, pointing out coca cola waves, barrel waves, ‘fat’ waves and explaining how he and his friends would ‘sit on the pick (???)’ waiting to ‘drop in’.

You can see why it's calls 'Black Magic' shore

 I was knackered by the time we fell into the guesthouse and sad that Dustin would be leaving after dinner. We ate at Chez Patrick and we wished him well on his 27-hour journey home and then Malika and I waved him off in the car. Not too much time to feel sad though; I have to get some shuteye because Malika and I are heading back to Port Louis tomorrow to check out the museums and have lunch at the brand new Caudan Waterfront.