I wake up still feeling decidedly dodgy and soon realise that I need to keep taking the Imodium. Lovely. Knowing that we are about to spend the day in the car leaves me with a level of trepidation as far as my stomach is concerned but hey ho!
I borrow a guide book from Jim so that we at least have an idea what we are aiming to see, and when the car arrives and I think the tablet has worked, we set off, later than we meant to (as usual) at 10.30 am.
Our first stop is the chandleries, or at least, what passes for chandleries. The first place, which we find quite easily, is actually a shop selling stuff for motor boats and fishing, but Mike does manage to get a couple of clips. The next one doesn’t sell anything he wants but we do manage to find a large diy/home store where he is able to find electrical cable.
This store is located near Cyber City, a new development that has commercial tower blocks going up by the dozen. It’s an incredible sight seeing all this development going on. The signs on the completed buildings are for the usual suspects – banks, accountants etc. Business is obvious prospering in Mauritius.
From Cyber City we head towards the interior of the island and are pretty quickly into open countryside and the middle of the tea plantations. I spot someone humping a huge, full basket of tea nearly bigger than themselves and in the distance see people picking these tips from the bushes by hand.
We stop by the roadside where there is an old lady laboriously picking the tender tips of the bushes by hand. I politely ask if I can take it her photograph, and this little old uneducated crone, as quick as a flash says that I can for 50 rupees. Now, I have just read that they earn 3 rupees per kilo of picked tea, so 50 rupees is a fair whack so to speak. However, I don’t mind. Maybe today she can have an easy day! I am sure these ladies take it in turns to work near the roadside and earn their little extras. I take her photo and show it to her. She seems pleased, even when I only give her 45 rupees because it is all the change I have.
Our next stop is Grand Bassin, a lake that has formed in the crater of an extinct volcano that has become a Hindu place of worship. Given the size of the car parks that surround it, with parking spots marked out for hundreds of buses, the place must literally heave around festival time.
There are loads of shrines to the various Hindu gods, all with incense and food offerings at their bases. Not that the food hang around for long as is mainly fruit and there are hordes of vicious looking mountain monkeys around that constantly run up and steal it – easy pickings.
We climb a hill to get a better view of the whole area and can see an enormous statue on the opposite side of the lake.
By the time we get to the top of the hill we are both more than slightly short of breath. The trouble with sailing, or more accurately, cruising, is that one gets very little aerobic activity. We stop to admire the view and get our breath back, then decide to go around the lake to see what the large statue is all about. When we get there we are none the wiser. It turns out that the statue was erected in 2006 but that’s all the information we get – obviously they want you to pay for a guide here. There’s not even anything about the place in the guide book other that a general note that it is a Hindu place of worship. The statue looks like a mishmash of different religious gods, and maybe that’s just what it is given the only sign. I send Mike to pose in front to give the statue some perspective.
We head off to view what ends up being a very uninspiring waterfall then stop for lunch. The view from our restaurant table is lovely although the food, in my opinion, is relatively boring and expensive.
The road down to the coast is lovely, through mile after mile of sugar cane plantations and past rum distilleries and small fields planted with pineapples.
Eventually we reach the south coast, and drive around some hairpin bends and sheer cliffs. For a while, it feels like we are driving in Italy around the Amalfi coast, then I spot a temple in the distance and remember where I am. There is a lovely view point which I have to climb to up some very steep steps. The view over the reef is fantastic but Mike sits and waits in the car. He’s seen enough reefs to last a while.
We drive through one coastal village where the industry is obviously harvesting salt. There are lots of brick squares built onto the floor with salt water drying out in them. As the water evaporates, the salt is swept together and left in piles, an amazing sight.
Finally, we arrive at Flic-en-Flac, supposedly one of the best public beaches. I am afraid to say that we have been spoiled by French Polynesia. I have seen no beaches that meet their standards. This one is OK but nothing special.
The traffic is horrendous when we arrive back to Port Louis, as we are going through the worst of the evening rush hour, but the prize giving and reception is tonight so we have to be on time. Amazingly, I am ready before Mike and leave the boat before him.
There is a display of local dancing and singing which seems strange to me as it reminds me more of Mexico than Mauritius.
As the last leg from the Cocos Keeling Islands to Mauritius was officially cancelled, there are prizes for everyone, but silly ones. We get the prize that no one else wants – a prize for having the equipment (generator!!) with the shortest life!
Mike is tired and retires to bed early, although I stay up a little longer with Matt, Sophia, Eline and the usual reprobates, although I don’t last a lot longer. I am stone cold sober and everyone else is well pickled on the free local rum that is being provided, so it’s back to the boat for me before I can be induced to board Chessie and do some further damage to my poor liver.
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