Hout Bay

First of all: we wish you a Happy Christmas and a New Year which is healthy and fulfilled. Please feel free to comment if you can get past the “spam filter police”!

"Daddy, daddy, I've filled the sand pit."

We have nearly completed one week in Hout Bay, a week in which we were going to rest and recuperate after crossing 6913 nautical miles from Malaysia. We spent some time familiarising ourselves with Hout Bay, the shops, yacht club and also putting Sal Darago in harbour mode rather than sea mode.

City Hall, Cape Town.

 Off early the next day, we caught the sightseeing tour bus to Cape Town; explored the Victoria and Albert renovated Docklands; waited for an hour at the marina office which failed to open; walked 2 kilometers to the Post Office, where our parcel was waiting to be picked up. NO! that was a joke. The tracked parcel has “arrived in its country of destination”, but according to the country of destination – it has NOT. Returned, without the parcel, to Hout Bay.

That looks like a difficult mountain to climb.

Barbara Spencer is my cousin, being Lloyd’s youngest brother, Derek’s, daughter. So far as I know we had never met until last Wednesday. She had some time on SD and we went for a meal at Chapman’s Peak restaurant. Stupidly, I forgot to take a photograph, but we did have a lovely time.

Leaving Cape Town extract from "The Wanderer"

Barbara reminded me that my great grandfather, Alfred Spencer, sailed these waters and I shall try to include a piece from his book, “The Wanderer”. There is also a picture of him, instead of Barbara. We also checked the batteries, turned the boat round to face the wind, went shopping and had a discussion about religion with Barnett, who works at HBYC.

It was time for a day on the boat. I did the washing, Kathy blogged, answered emails and at 5pm started to clean the galley. I washed, dried and put away the no2 jib sail, cut my hair (yes, I am a skinhead again, Gavin), and finally sewed the bimini zip and a new piece of Velcro to the opening part of the sprayhood.

Up at 0510 hours, we caught two buses to Kloofnek near the cable car station for Table Mountain. We walked for about two kilometres until we found the recommended route up the hill. It was, of course, one of the hottest days of the summer so far with 35 degrees and little or no wind. At 1215 we dragged ourselves up the last few feet and were dazzled by the spectacular views. After lunch, we caught the cable car down and jumped on a bus to the Post Office. There was no sign of our parcel. Perhaps we could ask Santa Claus to intervene here on our behalf and our fingers are crossed for the end of December. No chimney here could be a bit of a problem.

The view from the top of Table Mountain.

Yesterday, we walked to the other side of Hout Bay and did food shopping in Woolworths. Woolworths here is similar to M&S at home. The food is good, but rather expensive. Disappointingly there were no Crunchie Nut Cornflakes – come on guys! Later we launched the dinghy and I crossed the harbour to buy 130 litres of diesel in containers. Returning to SD, the fuel was stowed and the dinghy lifted back aboard.

Hout Bay Marina; Sal Darago centre.

 This morning we went to St Peter’s church, where we were welcomed. The minister had been pleased to note that the world had not ended on 21^st December as predicted, but he was not betting on it lasting much longer. Kathy and I had a splendid lunch at the Mariners’ Wharf. Mine was a smoked salmon salad with feta cheese, avocado, tomatoes and lettuce accompanied by poppy seed bread, while Kathy ate fresh salmon and pasta in a creamy sauce.

Lunch at Mariners' Wharf.

Enjoy Christmas.

Durban to Hout Bay

After 10 days in Durban there was a weather window of two days for the passage to East London. This stretch of coast is known as the Wild Coast and so it proved to be. We left Durban about 9.00pm to find the wind hard on the nose and a big swell. Soon we were in the Agulhas Current recording speeds of 10 knots on the GPS. The sea was rough and conditions were wet and unpleasant. I was sick before breakfast and started taking Stugeron. After two hours’ sleep, I was feeling much better and did not miss any of my watches. A number of large ships passed. One altered course at our request on the VHF radio. It was dead ahead and closing fast. A block broke on the genoa sheet giving us a scare. The sail was poled out at the time but, thankfully, there was no damage to the pole, mast or us! The next day we recorded 32 knots of wind blowing up the stern. It was time to leave the current and head for East London. The engine cut out as we motorsailed towards the harbour. I sailed with a reefed genoa trying to slow down, while Jeremy had his head in the engine compartment clearing a blockage in the diesel fuel pipe. This time the blockage was nearer to the tank and the pipe could not be removed. Ever resourceful, Jeremy found the old dinghy pump, made a narrow end for the hose and pumped air in to clear the blockage. We were quite close to the harbour entrance by now and very relieved to hear the engine start. We motored into the calm and quiet East London harbour and anchored next to Orca, an American yacht we had been behind in Richards Bay.

Buffalo River Yacht Club was very friendly and helpful. Our friends on Tagish arrived and two World ARC yachts. BRYC opened on evenings when they were normally closed. We could use all their facilities including their braai(BBQ) and well-stocked bar. There were no club or harbour fees. We did have to visit the police station across the river and fill in a simplified flight plan. This was the only paperwork required. We shared a taxi with Dorothy and Brian from Tagish to go to a mall for supplies. Sadly, it was not considered safe to walk into town.

Two days later we were off again with a 24 hour weather window which gave us enough time to reach Port Elizabeth. I took Stugeron straight away. Once again, we took advantage of the Agulhas Current, reaching 9 knots through the water. Sal Darago usually averages 5 knots. There were dolphins in the harbour mouth as we left and 25-100 more on the passage. We caught up with the faster ARC boats. Generally, the wind was under 24 knots and the sea more comfortable on this passage. We left the ARC boats and headed to Port Elizabeth. Tagish joined us there.

The manganese loading dock at Port Elizabeth

Once again the yacht club was friendly and we were able to use all their facilities eg marina berth with water and electricity, showers, restaurant, bar. A flight plan had to be filled in at the office and a payment made to the club of R80 per day. The only drawbacks were the upwind manganese loading dock, which can cover your boat in black dust, and the surge in the marina. We were able to walk to the left of the port gates but not to the right, owing to the risk of being mugged. We found a Spar supermarket and ATM and enjoyed a visit to the South End Museum, where we had a free guided tour of the thought provoking displays from the apartheid days. The happy community of different races and religions at South End was forcibly removed to segregated locations and their houses were bulldozed.

The next weather window came two days later and this time we could expect more settled conditions along the south coast. Tagish decided to go as far as they could, perhaps all the way to Cape Town and we decided to go to Knysna, a town on the “Garden Route” situated on a lagoon with an entrance once described by the British Navy as the most difficult harbour to enter in the world. It was important to enter an hour before high water. We motored in sunny and calm weather for 7 hours, then sailed gently with the wind behind us to the entrance to Knysna. We had studied our sailing directions. We knew we had to keep on the leading lines and keep close to the rocks on the port side, but it was still a scary experience, but not half so scary as our exit three days later an hour before low water.

Enjoying refreshments on board Emily Grace

Short cut from a road bridge

Kathy cycling down a railway track

Jeremy and bikes at Brenton on Sea

Knysna is the nearest thing to a Scottish loch that we’ve seen in South Africa. It is a beautiful place but it’s very built-up on the surrounding hills and busy with tourists at this time of year. We met John and Karah from Orca again. Emily Grace arrived the next day and we all had coffee, desserts, nips and chatter with Tom, Kim and Emily in their spacious motor boat. We’d hired bikes that day and cycled for 6 hours on racing saddles, so it was good to rest our sore backsides on comfortable cushions.  Again, the yacht club was friendly. On arrival, the President gave Jeremy a lift to the nearest garage so that he could fill his containers with diesel. We anchored just off one of the channels in the lagoon so we had no fees to pay and no flight plan to complete. Had we stayed any longer, we think we would have been asked to pay park fees for anchoring. The minimum charge was for 30 days.

Two days later we were off again on a rare day sail to Mossel Bay. We chose to leave Knysna at low water slack tide at 8.30am. However, the tide was still running out of the narrow passage and steep waves were breaking over the shoal ground on our port side. I sat facing backwards with my eyes glued on the leading lines telling Jeremy where to steer. He was looking at the big waves ahead in disbelief. We cleared the rocks and reached the open sea safely. It took a while for our heart rates to return to normal.

The weather was so calm that we motored the 45 miles to Mossel Bay, helped on our way by a knot or two of current. Tagish was anchored outside the harbour along with Mojombo, an Australian yacht and Magalyanne, a French yacht. We spent one day here exploring the fascinating Bartholomew Dias Museum, which houses the replica of his caravel that the Portugese sailed from Portugal to Mossel Bay in 1988, to commemorate 500 years since the first historic voyage. Dias was the first European to sail round the Cape of Good Hope looking for a sea route to India.

Paddle steamer at Knysna

And now for the BIG passage….The next leg of our trip took us round the most southerly point of Africa, Cape Agulhas, and the world famous Cape of Good Hope. The weather was surprisingly settled, but for how long? We needed two days. We left in drizzle and poor visibility, motorsailing. The day became sunny and we had good views of the coast as we motored along without any reefs in the sails and a knot of current pushing us along. At night, pods of dolphins swam towards us like silver torpedoes in the phosphorescence. We passed Cape Ahulhas at 5.00am. The GPS told us we’d sailed 6,800 miles since New Zealand. Then the middle lazy jack, which holds the mainsail in place when it is folded down on the boom, snapped. Jeremy mended it later giving him a chance to practice his splicing skills. We were able to sail without the engine for twelve hours with no mainsail and just a poled out genoa. We had made good time and rounded the Cape of Good Hope at sunset in ideal conditions. Thank you, God, for answering our prayers. Hundreds of birds descended on the ocean to feed. It was a glorious sight and I felt privileged to witness it.

Some issues caused us concern. We did not have a berth booked at Hout Bay and we either entered the unknown harbour at night against the recommendations in the sailing guide, or hove to and stayed out in the open ocean where the weather conditions might change at any moment. We could not agree. I went off watch and when Jeremy called me up, the engine was on, the pole was down, the genoa was furled, shorelines were ready and fenders were attached. We were entering Hout Bay. As we entered, winds up to 27 knots hit us from the surrounding mountains. We avoided fishing vessels and used our chart plotter programme and charts to help us locate the marina. There were no lights on the entrance breakwater. Jeremy steered in and with the help of our spotlight we saw a double berth just ahead of us. I jumped on to the pontoon and we tied up in Hout Bay. It was 45 minutes past midnight. Two men from the catamaran, “Moonjoos”, brought us most welcome cups of coffee. I think we’re going to like Hout Bay.

Sunset at the Cape of Good Hope

Durban

The second week we were in Richards Bay we hired a car. This enabled us to take two Belgian friends, Michel and Monique, with us to visit the iSimanga Wetland Park, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and Hluhluwe-iMfolozi Park, which is one of the oldest game reserves in South Africa. St Lucia is a town on the edge of the wetland park and the place where we stayed the night in an international backpackers called BiBs. We had double rooms with ensuite facilities and the use of a kitchen, table tennis, bar, lounge so it was quite civilised. We took a river boat trip to see hippos and crocodiles at close, but safe, quarters. You should see the size of the hippos’ teeth. They’re huge. Did you know hippos can’t swim? They walk along the bottom of rivers and at night they often roam around the town. Fortunately, they stayed away from BiBs and we didn’t see any on the road when we left St Lucia at 4.00am.

Durban City Hall

We were the first vehicle at the gate of Hluhluwe-iMflozi Park when they opened at 5.00am. Within minutes we had to stop for a group of giraffes in the middle of the road. Wow! We drove round the park for 7 or 8 hours, stopping many times to photograph the wildlife but only getting out of the car at viewpoints, camps and picnic areas. It was an amazing day and we were rewarded with sightings of rhinos, buffaloes, blue wildebeest, impala, warthogs, zebras, baboons, monkeys, a lion and an elephant, plus numerous birds. Four very tired people arrived back in Richards Bay just before dark and when we went to bed we were spotting wild animals in our sleep.

Our other daytrip to Shakaland gave us an interesting insight into Zulu village life and heritage. The village was an authentic replica, our guide was friendly and informative and the Zulu dancing was superb. We enjoyed a hearty buffet in the adjoining hotel and sampled some local staples of maize and beans and traditionally brewed beer. The views from the dining room were superb.

The week flew past and we used the last morning with the car driving to and from various offices to complete the clearance procedure. A Flight Plan has to be completed before any visiting boat can leave for Durban and official stamps have to be obtained from the marina office, the police, immigration, customs, port captain and port control. The process took us over two hours.

Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban

The next day we left Richards Bay. The wind was blowing on to the harbour wall and we could only leave our berth with the help of several long lines tied together and passed across the harbour to the crew of a yacht who pulled our bows round and through the wind. We had wind over tide choppy conditions at the entrance to the harbour and needed to reef the mainsail, but generally the overnight passage to Durban was fine and passed without incident. We are anchored in the harbour. All the marina and yacht club berths are full. Everyone is very friendly. Both yacht clubs offer free temporary membership, swimming pools, BBQ areas, restaurants, bars and hot showers. We pay 50 rands a day for secure dinghy parking, water and refuse collection.

Pat and Jeremy at RNYC

We met Jeremy’s cousin, Pat, at the Royal Natal Yacht Club. It must be 50 years since they last met. We had a good lunch and enjoyed catching up and exchanging news. The next day we went on the Ricksha Bus and spent 3 hours touring Durban and the suburbs. Last night the weather turned nasty. We had prepared for it by putting down bow and stern anchors as the locals advised. This was just as well. We recorded winds up to 53 knots as a gale blew all night. We were ashore when it started. Jeremy had to forego his shower as we dashed back to Sal Darago in our dinghy. He was showered with sea water instead. All the yachts held firm to their anchors, thankfully. So now we wait for the 5 metre swell to settle and the winds to ease before setting out on the 2 day passage to East London.

Jummah Musjid Mosque

Out of Africa

Just a few snaps to keep you all happy! Needless to say, we are amazed at the wildlife.

Steenbok antelope, we think.

Bull elephant

Baby Hippotamus

Warthog

Crocodile

Giraffe and spotted hyaena

Buffalo

Blue wildebeest

Chacma baboon

And of course, King of the jungle, African lion.

Zulu warrior

Zulu war dance (note the elephant skull above the King).

Passage from Reunion to South Africa

After Kathy’s parcel arrived, we did one last walk of about six hours on the south east corner of the islands. It was very beautiful and mostly in woods. Back at St Pierre we spent our days preparing the boat. All the laundry was washed, provisions were bought and stowed, the rigging was thoroughly checked, the sails inspected and various sheets, lines and pulleys put in their sea going places. Our friends on La Freneuse decided to go on Tuesday 23 October, but we did not like the look of a 5 metre swell which they would encounter on the second day. On Wednesday, Passage Weather showed the swell to have decreased and the worst weather to be on the following Tuesday – east winds from behind of 25 to 30 knots. By that time we would be approaching the south of Madagascar and the danger would be southerlies. We announced we would leave at 1400 on Thursday. Two sailors from different boats came to tell us not to go as their weather was giving a different picture. (This can go on for a month!)

We left as planned and had a lovely sail with 16 knots of SSE winds. At 2100 the wind increased 36 knots and we had to reef the mainsail to its second reef and furl the genoa completely; our speed remained at 5 to 6 knots. The waves were continually breaking over the length of Sal Darago. The winds continued in the mid-twenties to the mid-thirties for thirty hours. After five months of very little sailing, this was a rude awakening. Kathy was uncomfortable and took Stugeron. I felt like a wet dish cloth. I certainly was wet. Everything one does is difficult in these conditions. For instance on opening the fridge, its contents have a habit of emptying onto the floor. On one occasion, Kathy opened the fridge and one of the lemonade cans shot out, punctured and sprayed everywhere with its sticky liquid. Then it had to be cleared up.

Mending the mainsail eye.

By Saturday afternoon the wind had dropped to 16 knots and I repaired a mainsail eye which had been ripped out of the sail on the luff edge just above the second reefing point. By 1900, the wind had dropped and the engine was on. There was thunder and lightning with heavy rain and the engine was running oddly. I increased the revs and the engine made a dreadful noise, sounding as if it had blown up (that is: either the big end or small end bearings had disintegrated). Immediately reducing the revs, the noise faded and a gradual increase in engine speed did not reproduce the noise. I left it alone and it worked for a further 12 hours without incident, thank goodness.

Making lunch in a life jacket.

During the twelve day passage we encountered six ships which were so close to us that we had to call them up on the VHF and ask them to move for us. Only one did not respond at all. The rest moved their course to give us more room. For the one which did not respond, we were motoring and Kathy was on watch, so she altered our course to avoid a collision. On one ship, the officer on watch was from Blackpool.

By Monday the wind was back up to 25 knots, the top end of a force six, and it stayed there all day. The current was with us and the wind was against us so the waves were building and Sal Darago was slamming down twice a minute. It was uncomfortable. We were approaching the south of Madagascar, where we turned more west than south on Tuesday evening. The winds increased to 38 knots at 2300. Both Kathy and I were scared. The wind was behind us and the seas were building. In the morning Kathy has written in the log “confused sea; tearing down swell; waves crashing; wind howling”. We saw a large grey tanker and using VHF, asked him for a weather update. His reply was that it would stay the same for some days!

How many knots of wind?

We arrived safely in Richards Bay on Tuesday morning, 6 November, at 0700. We had endured one force six, two force sevens (frequently called a yachtman’s gale), three gale eights and one severe gale force nine. The engine did die and on being taken to bits the fuel pipe was full of flakes of rust disturbed by the dreadful shaking of the entire boat in the gales. I did clean it out and the engine ran sweetly thereafter. The mainsail was ripped twice; the second rip just behind the luff tape and about 6 inches long. We were very lucky that it did not rip further. We ran out of bread, but it was too rough for one day to make any more (ship’s crackers substituted). The two spray dodgers on either side of the boat, where the name SAL DARAGO is printed in white, were ripped and we lost two solar (garden) lights overboard. The maximum wind speed we saw on the readout was 53knots, but that was fortunately only a gust. We were close hauled into the wind for over 50 hours and had so much water coming over the boat that it was not surprising that everywhere was wet or damp with salt water.

Double reefed mainsail

We are very pleased to be in South Africa. Neither of us could say that we enjoyed the voyage. We are pleased that our old Westerly, Sal Darago, held together so well and apart from a fair number of bruises, the crew did too! 

Severe gale force nine - Indian Ocean

Still in Reunion

After our foray into the hills, I developed a very sore throat and despite Cathy’s antibiotics (a nurse sailing on Erica), it took two weeks for me to recover. During this time we were not entirely idle. Kathy went daily to the Marina office and to the parcel office at the Post Office, which was a fair distance away. We were waiting for Kathy’s prescription medicines and a parcel of travel books from Simon (Amazon – please use them everyone!). We filled the batteries with distilled water, filled the diesel fuel oil and bought more diesel at the marina. There is an extensive “beach” market on Saturday mornings with four rows of stalls for a quarter of a mile selling fruit and veg and local handicrafts, which we struggled through in the heat. We took the bus to Decathlon, a huge warehouse shop of sporting equipment. Here we both bought sandals. The greatest problem, apart from the lack of mail was this laptop. It decided not to turn on when the on button was pressed. We consulted the computer guru and understood that a capacitor was holding a charge and had to be shorted while the battery and power was off. This we could do if the power button was pressed and another finger touched the touch pad. Sadly, this did not work. On the internet, we read that we should disconnect all power and press the on button for twenty seconds. Sadly, this did not work. Finally, I took the laptop to bits (as in several pieces). This worked, but took an hour or more.

How to turn a laptop on?

On 10 November, the marina office called to say that the parcel from Simon had been delivered, but then returned to the PO. We hot footed it to the PO, only to discover that the postman had the parcel still and the note we received (in French – obviously) said we should come to the PO the next morning. Roman and Marianne, neighbours in the marina came to SD for drinks and we were joined by Stephan from Pas de Deux, whom we had met in Mauritius. We collected the parcel in the morning and that evening we were aboard Pas de Deux for a feast. Stephan and Annece had prepared many goodies for the eight neighbours who joined them. On Saturday morning, after the market and supermarket, we decided to motor out of the marina and have lunch at sea. It was rough. Kathy decided that I could prepare lunch, after I had scrubbed the propeller and the bottom. We were glad to be back in our marina berth. Later that evening we joined many of the locals and some of the international boat crews at a barbeque provided by the locals (Roman, Marianne, Stephan and Annece – I think). It was a lovely, relaxed evening and we were grateful for the kindness shown to us. We did feel part of the Reunion boating family.

The next day I took the starter motor to bits. It was making a rather unengaging sound as it tried to engage the flywheel. It is better, but not right – a bench and vice are required. A young man from Hanuman suggested we use an anti-humidity spray on the laptop. We went to the local shop and the assistant said we could try that but (he agreed with Simon) that it would be best to put the laptop in the bin. Stephan again helped us by going on his motor bike to the specialist shop to buy the spray which cost £25! The man in the shop suggested that by now the damage was done from the damp which is constant on a boat – he was actually surprised it (the laptop which cost £800 18 months ago in NZ) had lasted “that” long. It would not rectify the problem but it might help save our next laptop. I took the laptop to pieces (I was getting quite quick and blasé at it), thoroughly sprayed it and left it for twenty four hours. IT WORKS – SO FAR.

On Sunday evening Kathy and I were invited to Martine and Daniel’s house for dinner. It was a short walk up the hill to their very pleasing home. We were shown around, had drinks by the pool and chatted in English and French (you remember we met Martine and Alice on the bus and later, Martine took us to the volcano). Dinner was cooked by Daniel. We had rice, beans, and chicken in a Creole sauce, all of which is called “Kari”. This was followed by a selection of cheeses (Camembert, Gorgonzola, goats’ cheese and two others the names of which escape me). Finally, we had an apple flan. It was a most agreeable evening.

Pito de Cabris on our walk along Sentier Scout

First thing Monday morning (15.10.12) Kathy went to the PO and the laundrette; more success at the latter. In the engine compartment we have had a diesel fuel oil leak for some weeks. I had traced it to the top of the high pressure diesel fuel oil pump or the oil filter (unlikely). I really did not want to take this sensitive piece of equipment to pieces but I had to. I think the O rings had gone. It was tricky and took me until three pm before the engine was running again. We shall have to see if it has been a success when we are out at sea.

So Kathy and I were fed up of me being ill, no parcels and generally being stuck in so we decided to hire a car to go walking at the other end of Reunion. Our target price was E(Euros) 30. The best we could find was E37. The worst E65! Stephan, whom we met walking out of the marina, said he would search for us. He phoned later with an offer we could not refuse of E20 per day. The only problem was that the business was 15 kilometres away and by now it was 5pm. Stephan offered to take us there. Everything was fine except the lady asked for E800 CASH deposit against accidents. Kathy and I had about two hundred. Once again Stephan came up trumps, signing a cheque for E800. To be honest, I am not sure that I would have done the same in the UK. I have to say that the people here have been terrifically generous.

I wouldn't swap my little wooden hut for you, Ilet de Malheur.

We left the marina at 0600 and were at the start of the walk at 0930. Worryingly it was mostly downhill, as on this occasion we had to return to the car. The route we took was called Sentier Scout and it led to Ilet de Malheur. We arrived early and walked on for half an hour, then returned for 1500, when the gites were open. Monsieur Hoarau, the maître de gite was most welcoming and showed us to our own private “bungalow” and another “bungalow” which contained our private shower and toilet. We had a good night there and the food was pleasing too. However, by 0800 the next morning we said our au revoirs and set off on the Sentier Augustave. There was a cyclone just to the east of Reunion and we were warned to be off the sentier by 1400 as the path became dangerous in the wet. Fortunately, we made it by 1350 as the rain started.

This is tricky! The path is centre, 100feet drop to left and rock wall to right,

We returned the car the next morning, after a quick shop at the local Geant supermarket. We returned Stephan’s cheque with many thanks and I wondered if he would have slept soundly if he had driven with me before signing the cheque ;-) It was raining heavily as we returned the car and once again we thanked our guiding star for smiling on us. That evening we sat in the cockpit of Sal Darago and entertained Martine and Daniel. Both are keen musicians (Daniel is a Professeur in a specialist music school), so naturally Kathy played her guitar and we all sang songs.

Daniel and Martine in Sal Darago's cockpit

Today, Friday 19 October, the parcel with Kathy’s medicines arrived, so we are now free to sail to South Africa, when the swell from the cyclone abates and the winds swing in our favour. The people of Reunion and especially those in the marina have been most kind to us orphan waifs and the walks have been equal to any we have trekked in the world.

Two weeks in St Pierre, Reunion.

From Sailors to Hikers?

We settled in at St Pierre. Our friends on Leto, Peter and Cathy gave us much information about walking in the Cirques which are the mountainous regions of Reunion left by extinct volcanoes. There are three of them. Cirque Mafate is only accessible by foot! We entertained and were entertained by Brian and Dorothy on Tagish. They are Canadians and had been on the Sail Indonesia Rally with us. On Tuesday, 18.09.12, Kathy broke her tooth while eating breakfast. We were directed to a nearby dentist by the marina office (no one there speaks English). After a ten minute wait M. Arnault saw and treated Kathy. He had sailed around the world 12 years earlier and decided to settle in Reunion. He spoke good English and refused to charge Kathy for the treatment. Two days later we walked to the other side of town to a Decathlon store where we bought new walking shoes for Kathy, new socks for both of us and a proper stick for Jeremy (his age is showing;-).

The cirque de Cilaos

After arising at 4.50am we caught three buses to the start of a walk in Cirque Cilaos. The bus ride to Cilaos from St Louis was spectacular with many 180 degree bends, tunnels and always a giddy drop below. On the bus we met Martine, a retired teacher, who lives in St Pierre and Alice, her niece, who was on holiday from Paris. The walk from Bras Sec to Palmiste Rouge was magnificent and mostly downhill after the first 40 minutes strenuously up. We passed through intricate gorges with streams begging to be swum, but too much time would be spent and lotions would have to be reapplied. Lunch in Palmiste Rouge was sandwiches with the local primary school above us. A few children on lunch break tried to attract our attention. The afternoon walk was more arduous, but after 35 minutes we discovered the route was “FERME”. We walked back up to the main road and down beyond Peter Both where we saw our intended route was indeed closed. Happily we were just at a bus stop, when the bus arrived and took us swiftly and cheaply back to St Pierre.

The churh at St Benoit

The next day, we were up at 4.50am to catch the bus to St Benoit. We had an excellent view from the bus as we had the front seat both ways. The drive took about three hours each way and saved us having to hire a car to do the trip. St Benoit was a quiet town/village with little to recommend itself to us except the church. The tourist office was 10Km away, which was not helpful. The open fruit and vegetable market was colourful and extensive. We had lunch and caught the bus home. On Sunday we rested.

The caldera of La Fournaise with Le Piton de Neige centre background

We lay in until 5.10am on Monday before being picked up near the marina by Martine and Alice. Martine drove us for one and a half hours to the start of the volcano walk. La Fournaise was last active in 2009, but seemed fairly dormant to us. The 12 km walk from the car park and back is quite challenging. The summit of the volcano is some 2500 metres high (about 8200 feet) and the walking can be difficult. Naturally we were a fair way up when we started; however to get into the caldera, one first has to go down 300 metres on steps. This is easy, but once in one has to get out! We had a good day, but Kathy’s old walking shoes indicated how rough the terrain had been by beginning to fall apart. 

Kathy, Jeremy and Alice at the summit

At the summit the volcano’s cone had collapsed in on itself forming a crater 300 metres deep with unstable sides. Looking in was hazardous. We returned to the car tired, but happy that the nuage (clouds) had kept away all day.

Our gite at Trios Roche, Marla.

The following day was a rush preparing food, clothes and booking accommodation for three nights in the inaccessible Cirque de Mafate. Brian and Dorothy were to accompany us on the first day and night, but then they were to hare ahead of us as they were leaving for South Africa four days after completing the walk. On Wednesday, after another early start, we caught the three buses to beyond Cilaos and began our ascent to Col du Taibit and the clamber down to Marla. To be honest the climb up was tiring. We climbed about 3000 feet in three hours. Poor Kathy had to wear brand new walking shoes and we were both aware that we still had three more days to go. The only way out was by walking … or helicopter. At the top there was a view, but the clouds shortened it considerably and we walked down to our gite at “Trois Roche”, Marla. The building we were in had two bedrooms containing 4 bunk beds each and a toilet and shower room. Brian and Dorothy slept in our room and apparently Jeremy snores! The evening meal was a glass of rum, salad crudité (kind of coleslaw as a starter), rice, lentil soup, chicken and sausages; followed by a very heavy soggy cake with a brown sauce which may have been chocolate. None of us slept very well. It was very cold and Kathy and I had all our clothes on.

The start of the ravine at Trios Roche. Col du Taibit visible - back centre  right

The mornings in the Cirques are glorious before the clouds arrive and the views and the walking are spectacular. We proceeded down the river valley to an area called Trios Roche (confusing, but one could see this from the Gite named after it, a bit like Dhoirlinn View). Here the substantial river dropped down a ravine. Fortunately we took another route and after walking for about six hours in total we reached our second gite at Roche Plate. The most attractive feature about this gite was its balcony, from which there was a first class view and Juliette, who ran the place, sold beers! Kathy and I relaxed on the balcony and drank in the beautiful sights whilst sipping our Bourbon beers. We were joined in our dormitory by four, French, retired females on holiday in Reunion. The evening meal consisted of rum, salad crudité, rice, sausages, lentil soup and a heavy, soggy cake.

Going down to Roche Plate

On our third day, we walked mostly downhill through spectacular gorges, with helicopters buzzing back and forth above us. We came to Ilet des Oranges by midday where there was a café, but, as we had had to carry all our lunch time food with us, as no one could guarantee that any cafes would be open, we continued past it. We seemed to be going towards river level. There would be a turn and we would climb up for half an hour, followed by a rapid descent. The path ahead would be near but across an abyss which required us to walk round the contour line for twenty minutes. Finally, we arrived at the bridge crossing the gorge. It was 5620 feet below the Col du Taibit, but the only way from there was up. After a mere 650 feet upwards we came to our final gite at Grand Place Cayenne. Here we had booked a room to ourselves. We need not have bothered as there were no other walkers and we were served rum, salad crudité, rice, lentil soup, chicken and … baby bananas. The chicken was delicious and Kathy and I enjoyed having the dining room to ourselves.

A very Alpine peak

We had to walk back to the river the following morning, which was incidentally a Saturday and thus very busy. Once we had marched for several kilometres along the river bed we joined a track. Here we were nearly run down by mountain bikers doing their thing. It was most disconcerting.

Kathy crossing the Riviere de Gallets

To return to St Pierre we had to catch two buses. The local one could only be caught from a place called Dos d’Ane. The bus times were 1345, 1555. Not too frequent. It had been my idea to catch the earlier bus and we had set off at 0815. Sadly Dos d’Ane is not quite on the river. It is more than 2600 feet above the river, but extraordinarily close to the river. We thus had to climb virtually vertically for around three hours. The path was not in good condition and at frequent points it was possible to look directly down to the river as in STRAIGHT down. Often the path was only a foot wide and frequently it was crumbling.

A final look down to the river and Le port in the distance

We were pleased when we reached Dos d’Ane village, despite arriving five minutes after the bus was timetabled to leave. Children’s voices could be heard singing in the church and as we passed, Kathy said we must be in Heaven. Her next statement was, “The bus is still here” and I burst into a trot. We caught it and were soon back in the cocoon of Sal Darago safe from the ups and downs of the gruelling but magnificent mountains.