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.