SV Coromandel

Along the way we came across a small shack where a lady was serving drinks - coffee or a tisane made from local herbs.  She had two tisanes, she said: one for ascending, composed of rose geranium leaves, citronella and fleurs jaunes (yellow flowers), and one for descending where marjoram was the main ingredient.  I was reminded of the coca tea we got so fond of in Ecuador and Peru, and the tisane we had was pleasant to taste and smelled of roses.  A delightful little boy of 2½ years was breakfasting on little cakes; he had the most gorgeous dark eyes and clear skin, and an infectious smile.  We played peep-po for quite some time.

Unfortunately, the higher we got, the closer we got to the cloud base until finally we were shrouded in mist, so that the views from Col du Taïbit were quite sketchy, although one could get a feel of airy exposure now and again. We walked on down into the cirque, being finally rewarded with a view down to the hamlet of Marla, our destination for the night.  We stopped for lunch where we had a good viewpoint over Marla, feeding crumbs to one of the little tec-tecs which we had seen so often during our walks.  These birds, which are smaller than a sparrow, do not seem to be at all shy, and will sit quite close to you picking up crumbs.   I had hoped we would get a real sense of the isolation of this community, linked to the outside world by foot only, but the thrump-thrump of helicopters rather belied the isolation and certainly spoilt the tranquility.

Marla is a tiny hamlet which boasts several gîtes, but although the surroundings are truly splendid, the accommodation is not.  €78 bought us bunk beds in a shed which slept 16, a dinner of watercress salad, rice, thick butterbean soup and a dish of smoked pork, and a slice of aniseed cake, plus breakfast the following morning of dry baguettes, butter, jam and coffee.  Now I know that everything has to be brought in on foot (or by helicopter) but this just seemed an awful lot to pay for such basic accommodation.  We were given to understand by one of the locals that they can charge what they like because the cirque is so popular with hiking tourists.  Whilst waiting for supper Andy and I talked about some of the places we stayed in South America, and decided that the place which most matched this gîte was the hostal in Ingapirca in Ecuador - which had the virtue of being a private room with an en suite bathroom at US$6 for the two of us, supper and breakfast costing us another US$5 each (including beer!).  I was not impressed with this one, despite its pretty garden complete with neat privet hedge, sweet peas and geraniums.

As the clouds came in the temperature dropped dramatically and although I cannot say that we were really cold, by 2000 hrs we were in bed, rather naughtily two in one bunk: I'm all for mutual bodily warmth!  By 2030 the generator had been turned off and I think everybody else was in bed too.  It was very quiet.  

The next morning we discussed our plans for the day, which were to walk to Roche Plate, but Andy suddenly rebelled.  For €35, he said, we could hire a car for the day, do a walk into and out of the cirque and return to Coromandel for a bloody good supper.  Splendid views do not make up for indifferent food and ultrabasic accommodation: we would have fared better had we elected to camp instead.  So instead of walking on we decided to return to Cilaos.

It was a lovely day with clear skies, so the walk back up to the col was very pleasant indeed, especially as we knew we had all day to get back to Cilaos, so could stop and admire the views on the way.  With the glorious blue skies and wisps of cloud, the views over both cirques were fantastic, the height and steepness of the cliffs dwarfing us on the path below.  The upper slopes were bare of vegetation, but the lower slopes had thick woodland, the mossy branches and twisted trunks giving a Tolkein-esque feel to the whole area - Mirkwood or Fanghorn.  I think that of all the things I've seen in La Réunion, the woods have been the most memorable, being so diverse despite the smallness of the island.

We were lucky enough to meet another couple in the col, so we exchanged cameras so that we could photograph each other.  I also had a closer look at the little shrine to the Virgin Mary tucked into a narrow opening between a cliff face and an isolated pinnacle.  The statue was that of Our Lady of Lourdes, and in addition to some plastic flowers, someone had added a spray of fresh flowers.

We stopped several times on the way down to look at the trees and shrubs and for me to translate bits from the guide for Andy.  Unfortunately as this was in French I couldn't find out the names of the trees - the Latin names weren't given, just the local names, so I wasn't sure what a bois de fer, bois de perroquet or corce blanc were.  I did learn that the lovely deep pink drooping fuchsia I had seen several times was Fuchsia Boliviana and was considered an invasive pest.  This seems to occur all of the World now.  In England it's Japanese Knotweed and Rhododendron ponticum, in New Zealand Tradescantia was considered pestilential, and both NZ and Australia have rigid laws on the importation of anything animal or vegetable.

Once back on the road to Cilaos we had lunch in one of the little roadside picnic areas, then decided to walk the 5 km back to the village via the road.  This gave us a wonderful glimpse into one of the ravines, some 100 metres below the level of the bridge, its sides sculpted smooth by the passage of water over time, water stains on the rocks showing where rivulets run in wetter times, the water plunging into hollows in the riverbed.  However, soon a car came along and offered us a lift into the village, so we accepted gratefully.

Once back in St Pierre we saw that the American catamaran Papillon had come in, plus an old schooner flying the Welsh Dragon.  We stopped for a brief chat with Michael, who told us that Adio had got becalmed south west of Madagascar and had drifted back 42 miles overnight!  That sent Andy scurrying to the routing charts to see what was going on.

The Hamlet of Marla

Tec-Tec

Looking West at Sunset

Col du Taïbit from Marla

Col du Taïbit

Shrine in the Col du Taïbit 

Moss-Covered Shrub

Looking SW down the Cilaos Ravine

We had no trouble with the buses, and we able to get the front seats on the one from St Louis to Cilaos, giving us a bird's-eye view of the scenery, from the soaring peaks to the depths of the ravines - most exciting!  Again, the bus driver took his time to line up with the narrow tunnels, sounding his horn time and time again as he approached the blind hairpin bends.  Once in Cilaos we shopped for baguettes,  paté and cheese, loaded up with water and then had a coffee whilst we waited for the bus to Le Bloc.  We could have walked there, of course, but with an ascent of 1100 metres in front of us it seemed sensible to save ourselves the hour it would take to walk from Cilaos to Le Bloc, especially as we had done the walk before.

The distance from Le Bloc to the col at Caverne Dufour is probably about 2 km, but the footpath rises 1100 metres.  It is a lovely trail which zigzags its way up the steeply-inclined crater wall, an endless series of hairpin bends with occasional views over Cilaos through the ancient woodland of tamarins and other trees known as the "bois de couleur" - the coloured wood, an association of trees, shrubs and plants endemic to the island.  The path was gently-graded, with steps formed from the trunks of small trees and neither of us ever felt the burn associated with some steep climbs.  Although it had been sunny when we left Cilaos, the clouds slowly drifted in so that by the time we gained the col, visibility was limited and the clouds drifted about, giving us occasional glimpses of the pale-green building of the gîte just below the col.

Having checked in, we found that our accommodation was not a tent, as described by the lady in the tourist office in St Pierre, but a wooden chalet, equipped with bunk beds which would sleep eight.  Each bed, rather like the pipe-cots one sees on racing yachts like Spirit of Isis, had two thick blankets and a pillow.  Having dumped our stuff, we went back to the main gîte, chatted with a couple of South African girls who had walked from Cilaos and were going on to Bourg-Murat, and we then joined by Jérémie and Gigi, a couple from Paris who spoke excellent English, and with whom we had supper; rice, butterbeans in a creamy sauces and smoked sausage in a spicy sauce, followed by a pot of apple purée - delicious after a long day's walk.  The talk was far-ranging and interesting, and I think it was a relief to Andy to find someone who could speak English as he was feeling a bit left out with all the French - he understands most of what goes on, but has trouble making conversation himself.  It was an excellent evening!

Unfortunately the night was not as peaceful as I'd hoped.  Two of the girls in our chalet got up at 0300 (!), one of the men at 0400, another at 0430, then the two South African girls were awoken again by their alarm at 0530, so we got up with them.  The early start is because the mornings on the high tops are usually clear with the cloud coming in at about midday.  It was a glorious morning, looking down on the cloud lake towards Piton de la Fournaise, which was clear in the pink glow of the dawn, as was Piton des Neiges.

The track from Caverne Dufour to the crest of the ridge up to Piton des Neiges wound up through boulders and small rocks, so one had to be careful with one's footing.  We could see by the light of the Moon and the suffusing pink glow of the rising Sun, and to the south west we could see the lights of St Pierre twinkling.  The vegetation was small ericaceous shrubs and reminded us of the fynbos around the Cedarburg.  Apparently this particular shrub, which is becoming increasingly rare, thrives well on the mineral-rich volcanic soils.

The Sun came up above the clouds as we were about half-way to the top and started to melt the ice-crystals of the ground frost which had collected in small hollows.  Gradually the shrubs declined, to be replaced with a red scoria, where large boulders sat on the bare earth.  The view towards the Col de Taibït was awesome, vertical cliffs of bare rock, pinnacles worthy of the Skye Ridge or Crib Coch, ravines a thousand metres deep - and the village of Cilaos some 1800 metres below us.  Despite all of the others seeming to have left before us, we were lucky enough to have the top to ourselves.  By this time the Sun was well above the clouds, the icy wind had dropped and we sat on the top in warm sunshine, feasting on a rather battered baguette and some cheese and paté, washed down with water.  It was a truly exhilarating experience.

We were in no hurry to get back down to Cilaos, as we knew we had until about 1700 to get there, so we spent time wandering around, taking in the views from all sides: towards the ridge between the Cirque de Cilaos and the Cirque de Mafate; over the Forêt de Bébour and the Plaine des Palmistes to Piton de la Fournaise; over the Cirque de Cilaos itself towards the coast.

The Ridge of le Piton des Neiges

Le Gîte de la Caverne Dufour

Piton des Neiges from the col at La Caverne Dufour

Approaching the Summit at about 0700

We had the Summit to Ourselves

Feeling very pleased with myself!

La Plaine des Palmistes and Piton de la Fournaise

The road weaves its way up through a ravine, doubling back on itself, looping and twisting as it climbs some 1500 metres to the village.  There are two long tunnels, where the bus driver had to line up the bus to drive through, which what looked like only inches to spare on each side.  The views of the tops - Piton des Neiges, Le Grand Benare etc - were magnificent, and I was again surprised at plants like sisal being able to find a foothold on the near-vertical cliff faces.  The bottom of the ravine was full of rounded boulders, some of immense size, indicating the force of the water which sometimes cascades down.

On arriving in Cilaos our first task was to find somewhere to stay for the night, and we ended up at a gîte which seemed all right.  At least we were able to dump the big rucksack and go off for a hike round one of the many trails which encompass the village.  Our destination was La Roche Merveilleuse - because it sounded interesting!  The track took us up a footpath through some lovely woodland, rather damp underfoot now and again, then onto a forest track.  And was the rock marvellous?  Well, we couldn't actually work out why it was called that, except that it gave us an excellent view over the village, set on a flat expanse of land between two ravines.  By this time the cloud had started to wreath the peaks, so we made our way back down and then on to Les Thermes Anciens - the old thermal springs.  However, when we got there we found that they were closed, with big signs warning us to keep out, so we made our way back up into the village.

One of the reasons I wanted to visit Cilaos is because of the embroidery tradition which has existed there since the beginning of the 19th century, introduced by Angèle Mac Auliff, the daughter of a doctor.  She started a workshop, giving local women the opportunity to learn the art of embroidery.  Over the years a distinctive style has developed, which I would describe as a combination of Richelieu, drawn thread and needleweaving.  This can now be seen at the Maison de la Broderie and it is absolutely exquisite!  Worked on very fine count linen or organza, the traditional style uses white-on-white, but now flowers and butterflies are also embroidered in multi-hued coton perlé.  It was a joy to watch the women at work.

By 1800 as it got dark, the temperature dropped like a stone, and we searched in vain for somewhere to eat other than partaking of €20 a head set meals at the hotel.  So we bought a baguette, some paté and cheese, and had an impromptu picnic.  Sad to say we went to bed at a ludicrously early hour because it was so cold!!!

Up early the next morning we set out to find some coffee to complement our baguette and cheese breakfast before setting off to walk to the Cascade Bras Rouge.  Again the tops were gloriously clear, and it is difficult to describe just how magnificent they looked in the early morning sunshine against the deep blue of the sky.  It was disconcerting to find that the footpath took us downhill all the way - I much prefer walking up the hill in the morning then down in the afternoon!  Still it was a pretty walk, down into the depths of one of the ravines, seeing a great many interesting trees and shrubs on the way and stopping for a time to listen to some birds which we could see but could not identify.  The cascade itself was formed where an enormous basalt dyke cut through the less consolidated material; it reminded Andy of Bourke's Luck Potholes in Mpumalanga, though I doubted there was any gold there.

Having regained the road - which was an easier walk than I had anticipated - we had another picnic lunch at one of the excellent little tables which are scattered all around La Réunion, together with barbecue pits.  On Sundays you will find it hard to get one to yourself, as entire families decamp to the countryside to have lunch, complete with tablecloths, cutlery and bottles of wine, even though they might be wearing fleeces and woolly hats.

Andy and Le Grand Benard

The Ravine at Le Bras Rouge

Cirque de Cilaos

Cirque de Cilaos

Picnic Lunch

Le Mare des Joncs, Cilaos

Any thoughts we had of hiking were put on hold, as we wanted to see what would be going on.  Along with our French neighbours, we checked our lines, put out additional fenders and lines, then spent the rest of the day in a rather desultory fashion which reminded me a little of waiting for Hurricane Alan to hit Barbados many moons ago.  As Wednesday progressed the swell got bigger and the entrance to the harbour became a seething maelstrom of white water, the swell surging around and into the marina, running at what looked like about 10 knots around the pontoons, forming eddies and whirlpools, the water on one side of the pontoon often being as much as 75 cms higher than on the other. Three officials from the local authorities came along and warned us that they might ask us to leave the boats if they thought it was likely to get dangerous, and that we should pack some overnight things; we would be provided with accommodation ashore.  It was thought that the swell would be at its worst at about 0400, at high water.

At about 1700 they returned.  We would be taken to a local school, where food and beds had been provided.  So the decision was do we stay or do we leave?  Looking at the speed of the surging water and the waves which, by this time, were splashing over the harbour wall, it was a moot point as to what we could do anyway, and that to fall into the water could have very serious consequences.  So we joined Reinhart and Marlene, our French neighbours and their children and left.  Watching the sea from the second floor of the Capitainerie building, was quite unnerving, yet now more than a few cables beyond the surf the sea was quite calm, barely a whitecap in sight.  This phenomenon was caused purely by a very large swell reaching the abrupt shallowness of the coastal reef.

After the night in the school, where camp beds had been provided along with a meal of hot baguettes, ravioli and a tuna and sweetcorn mayonnaise, we returned to Coromandel as soon as day broke the next morning, finding her unharmed, apart from two burst fenders.  The waves continued to crash against the wall, sending up such a volume of spray that visibility was considerably reduced - and all my thoughts of doing some much-needed laundry vanished.

The Entrance to St Pierre

Water Swirling out of the Harbour

The Waves beyond the Sea Wall

Sue and Brian had told us that there were some places we would need a car for, so in a fit of wild extravagance we hired one for a week, so since last Friday have been out around the island.

29 July Piton de la Fournaise  We were up at 0500 and out of the boat by about 0510 for the 1.5 hour drive to La B, the starting point for the trek to the top of The Volcano, as it is called.  The cloud base was lower than we'd anticipated, but it was simply a dampness in the air when we left the car.  Soon, however, it turned to drizzle, then to rain, and for five hours we plodded to the top and back again, seeing absolutely nothing except clouds and getting a thorough soaking, with Andy stopping now and again to wring out his socks, whilst I just stood about looking at the geology.  Even in the rain, it was not too difficult to be amazed and excited by the lava tubes, the remnants of fire-fountaining, lumps of rock filled with olivine, pahoehoe slabs and heaps of aa.  I could see that on a fine day I could spend hours just picking up one piece of rock after another.

30 July 2011  La Fenêtre Our 17th Wedding Anniversary.  Andy gave me a gold chain on which I can put my Polynesian pearls - it's lovely, so I think he's forgiven me for losing the pearl he bought for me in Rarotonga.  We drove up to a viewpoint called La Fenêtre.  The road up from Les Makes (pronounced Les Macques) was very twisty, with deep gullies on one side or the other, but with some stunning vegetation, including the shrubs with the trumpet-shaped flowers that I had first seen in Tenerife - must find out what they're called.  These were white, peach, yellow and a pale pink, and I remembered the guide in the Parque de near Cuenca telling us that the flowers could be used as a pain-reliever, but that too much of it sent you do-lally.

The views from the top over the Cirque de Cilaos were stunning, with cloud wreathing the tops below a brilliant blue sky.  We wandered around for about an hour or so, taking little sips of views along the way, before driving back to the lava flow at Le Tremblet, which this time was in sunshine, so that we could see the smoke and steam coming from the lava and feel the heat in the rocks.

31 July 2011  Le Maido  Le Maido gives one a panoramic vista of the Cirque de Mafate, and area of La Réunion which has no road access at all, although there are several hamlets and small villages.  Goods are taken in and brought out on the backs of cattle, a four-hour walk to the nearest road.  The people are said to be independent-minded and reserved.

One thing that gave an interesting insight into the lifestyle of Les Réunionais was that as it was Sunday all the world and his wife were out for picnics - whole families gathered round the little forestry benches, which were laid with tablecloths, some of them having barbecues at the side.  The irony of this was that because of the temperature - around 18ºC - most were wearing anoraks and woolly hats, rather as you see people in England on sunny days in summer:  it's the summer, we WILL have a picnic!  It was also disconcerting to see fires being made with locally-gathered wood, and we saw some people cutting up wood with choppers and saws for their fires - all this despite the "No Fires" signs everywhere.  We both wondered whether the French just love bending the rules, for wherever we saw a sign that said "Don't" you could guarantee we would also see someone doing that very thing.

We started to walk up to the nearest peak but unfortunately were stopped by forestry operations, so we wandered back down again and took a walk along the Route des Tamarins, through some mossy woodland, mostly of tamarins, which are being regenerated.  The silence of the woodland, coupled with the cloud which drifted in and out amongst the trees, made this a delightful walk, and later we drove along the road to Trémeleve - the last 10 km of which were among the most steep and twisty that we have so far driven through.

1 August 2011  Piton de la Fournaise  Up again at 0500 this morning, but what a difference!  We drove all the way to the car park at Bellevue in clear sunshine and our first view down into the Crater de Dolomieu was enough to take one's breath away: a huge lake of frozen lava, with the parasitic cone of Formica Léo at the foot of the crater wall.  Ahead of us was the Piton de la Fournaise itself, its gentle slopes changing in colour thanks to the different lava flows which had emerged from time to time.

This time the walk was a joy, and as we were there so early there were few people about.  We were able to see more clearly the different stages of the volcano's development, from lava flows ancient and modern to cinder cones, fissures, lava tubes, pumice and peridotite, looking at a particular feature and thinking, "Now how did that happen?".  I came away with more questions than answers, as usual.

Nothing quite prepares you for the sight of the crater, with its brittle edges, layers of ash and lava, smoking vents and general sense of being well and truly alive, all under the bluest of skies, and with only two other people there.  It was glorious!  Despite the chill, we stayed there for about an hour, poking about, looking at this and that, and finally, reluctantly, decided to leave as the numbers of people increased.  What I didn't understand was why people came to the top, took a photo, and went straight back down again, but perhaps that was because they were rather lightly clad and it was definitely chilly up there - not the place for just shorts and a tee-shirt.  Andy and I had our fleeces, so the chill did not matter.

Making our way back down, we took our time looking at the different features we could see and, on my part, collecting far too many specimens, most of which I simply do not have room for, so there will be a weeding process back on Coromandel.  Having left the viewpoint at Bellevue, we drove back across the Plaine des Sables, a lunar landscape that reminded me of the Nazca Plain in Peru, so rocky was it.  Andy's pleasure was that at last he'd got in a really good walk, stretching muscles and getting the heart and lungs going again.

At La Fenêtre

Smoking Lava Flow at Le Tremblet

The Viewpoint at Maido

Tamarin Woodland at Maido

The Cirque de Mafate

The Volcano's Crater

Andy on Piton de la Fournaise

Lava Cordée