Mauritian Mountain – Marks Meanderings

We had arrived in Mauritius, the destination of our honeymoon. Our route involved a stopover in Nariobi. Getting out of Nariobi airport was an experience that I wouldn’t wish upon any traveller. Our residence for the next 14 nights was the very impressive Heritage Awali Golf resort and Spa in the Bel Ombre and South western corner of the island.

Every morning, we would walk along the beach after breakfast. It felt good to at least stretch our legs before finding a suitable location to lay down and rest for the day (even the local stray dog would do the same). Lying there we would look out on the beach and enjoy the same view each day. The wind would push the clouds every now and again and bring with it the odd outbreak of rain (we somehow managed to miss a passing cyclone). Ignore this threat of bad weather and picture a postcard, if you will. At the forefront are white sandy beaches, beautiful tall palm trees, and the backdrop is the ocean. The ocean was a fascinating two-tone colour highlighting the coral reef with which the bay was associated. Resting completely soulless on the water were a few boats. They looked somewhat as we felt – calm and relaxed and, I dream here, like us enjoying the fact they had nothing to do. The holiday vibes are encapsulated in this one view – a total escape from the mundane life back home. In the far distance, when the cloud and rain didn’t hide it, you could just make out the top of a mountain. The name of that mountain was Le Morne Brabant with its apex just peeking above the trees. How many people were blissfully unaware of its existence in our hotel I wonder?

A book was enjoyed, along with a couple of beverages, conversations were had, and new acquaintances were made. Life felt good, but something was missing. We’re not ones to easily sit still and there was an itch that was getting bigger as the days went on. We wanted to escape that zen and explore and learn about this island that we had chosen as a honeymoon destination. We had taken the hotel bikes out for an exploratory trip along the coast in an easterly direction the day before. This had whetted the appetite.

I found a local company (Yanature) with which to book a guided tour of Le Morne Brabant, completely unaware of the mountain’s significance to the island’s history. The tour was booked as we love walking, and the mountain was close by and registered as easy/medium difficulty. A couple of nights before our planned ascent we sat around a fire as entertainers breathed fire, sang songs and beat the drums. We had made friends with another honeymoon couple who were going to complete the hike the next morning. We duly met up with them the following evening to listen to tales of their adventures. It became apparent that our guide was going to be essential and that this wasn’t going to be “walk/hike” as we thought it might have been. Their tales certainly worried Hannah and me. How much we slept, I do not know; I certainly lay in bed contemplating the fear and stress for I had managed to sign up and take Hannah as well.

We woke bright and early. I say ‘bright’ loosely; it was still fairly dark at this point. The rest of the hotel was certainly sleeping as we made our way through the hotel for our 0515 taxi pick up. The taxi driver very kindly drove us to a deserted shopping mall where we were to meet our guide. Our taxi guide shared stories about how he had climbed it along with most of the locals. Our guide (Rowin) arrived a little later than us, then we followed him to our parking point. We got out of the cars, completed the introductions and signed the waiver. We then left the parking area and started making our way into a wooded area and onto a track which led us up the ‘mountain’. When I think of mountain I think of something in excess of 1000m high. The highest point on this trip was to be 500m, 56m short of the summit!! Sounded easy!!

The early stages provided us with great shelter from the rising sun. Every now and again there was a gap in the local flora and beautiful views of the lagoon we had left behind were seen. At about the halfway stage on the ascent we took rest on a couple of benches. Bins overflowing caused Rowin to express his anger. It was here that we left the walking we envisaged it might have been to the top and started climbing! As we approached the technical section there didn’t appear to be an obvious route to the top. Rowin (who runs up and down the mountain for fun!) clearly knew which way to go. For an experienced climber this second part of the ascent would have seemed easy. We, however, were tourists. Rowin began to realise that we were proper tourists with a lack of hiking/climbing experience!! We both had a steely level of determination to reach the top and thoughts of nothing else would be contemplated. We crawled and climbed our way up the first section, Rowin directing our hands and feet movements. I believe at this point Hannah informed the Rowin that she wasn’t good with heights. I appeared to be fine with all this, which was surprising when you consider I had struggled up the Eiffel tower and the Golden Gate bridge and Hannah had loved both experiences. What we didn’t realise was that we were following in the footsteps of Maroons (this was called the slave route). The island has no natives. Most people were brought to the island through the slave trade. These people managed to escape the sugar plantations and slavery and used the mountain and trees to hide/live from their masters. When the soldiers/masters came up the mountain looking for them, some decided that rather than be caught they would jump off the mountain and die rather than be recaptured.

After completing the first technical section we arrived at a pinch point. This was an exposed area of the mountain where the views where incredible and on both sides of the mountain. On the one side was the view of the lagoon, and on the other side a view of the west coast of Mauritius with Benitiers island standing out (I mention this as we visited this island later in the trip and this is going to be the subject of another blog). We enjoyed the views and we could even see an eagle flying. I must admit to not wanting to look at it and purely focus on completing the last and stressful part. Rowin made a joke with Hannah that when we reached the top he would make the phone call for the helicopter to come and collect us. She looked at him with a sense of true optimism, but, alas, he was trying to provide some kind of joke and some added fun to the experience.

We waited for a group to descend before we took off for the final climb. It was short and sharp. Hands and feet were both essential to complete the climb. We zigzagged our way to the top. A white cross a sign of reaching the top. We collapsed on the floor and took stock for a while before we slowly grew some courage to take some pictures. Upon completing the formalities, we turned to realise that what must go up must come down. There was going to be no helicopter to provide us with an easily way out. Rowin led the way, helping Hannah with every step of the way. The short sharp final section completed we stopped so I could take a few more pictures before we started the long descent of the technical part. We crabbed on front and back as we descended the steep staircase. Rowin expertly providing us with the exact locations to put our hands and feet. At times he would stop us to help both individuals and couples who had attempted to tackle the climb on their own without a guide. They looked even more touristy than we did. One certainly felt without Rowin we would not have made it. After what seemed like an age, we made it on to solid ground. No longer did we need to use our hands as much as our feet. We retraced our steps back along the path through the trees and back to the car. We thanked Rowin; he had been superb. He very kindly informed us that we would be seeing him again on another adventure we had booked with the company. This was great and reassuring to hear. We jumped back in our taxi and returned to the hotel before noon. After a quick shower and a return to our beach wear, we made our way back to that postcard view. This time though we had a story to share, a sense of achievement, which meant the drinks were more of a reward than a mere social lubricant.