Masters of our own destiny at last, it was off to the Volcano. Heading along the eastern coast, our first stop was pulling into a McDonald’s around St. Andre to grab some breakfast. Surprisingly, the McD’s wasn’t open yet, even though it was after 7AM. But masters of their own destiny do not accept setbacks, so we simply pushed on and scored some croissants at a nearby gas station. I kid you not, these may have been the best dang croissants I ever ate!
With full bellies we turned inland and began climbing upward. The roads were narrow, steep and twisty, just begging for rain to be added to the mix. And added it was. Further compounding these challenges was the amount of traffic. Certainly not bumper-to-bumper, but quite a bit more than one would expect in the hinterlands were there weren’t too many folks living.
Fortunately Reunion isn’t that big of an island, and despite the headaches we soon neared the true ascent to du Volcan. Now the climb got serious and the switchbacks became incredibly pitched and tight. We noticed vehicles would toot their horn as they approached a switchback, because when you are on the inside track of these turns it is so severe that you cannot remain completely in your own lane. Going up you are also hesitant to slow down much, driven by fear of stalling out.
Within five miles of the finish line the road turns to dirt (well, today it turned to mud with all the rain), though it remained surprisingly smooth. We sloshed down the path through a landscape becoming progressively more eerie. Perhaps moonscape is a better term – there was little vegetation and wild mounds of red cinders.
Pas de Bellecombe is the name of the trailhead, where a small cabin offers hikers shelter from the storm. There is plenty of space for vehicles and after parking the Peugeot and donning rain gear we entered the hut. Up here it was cold, wet and windy, so the facility presented a welcome refuge. After a cup of coffee we braced ourselves and headed towards the trail.
We splashed down a muddy path to the gate where the trail begins. The gate exists so they can lock the area down when Piton de Fournaise is erupting. Gazing down into the plateau beyond the gate we saw nothing but thick fog. It was raining hard and given zero visibility we opted to punt. Scratching the volcano didn’t upset our plans too badly and we backtracked to the paved roadways before turning south towards St. Pierre, where we wanted to visit the state tourism office and tend to some concerns (our guide book pointed out English was spoken at this particular office).
Our luck began to turn. En route to St. Pierre we detoured towards the Belvedere viewpoint, where majestic panoramas are afforded of Grand Bassin. Grand Bassin is a stunning valley where three rivers converge, with plunging mountains resembling a land locked Na Pali coast line. At the bottom of the valley you can see a small village which is only accessible on foot.
We were delighted by this vista and much improved weather conditions (the rain was gradually being conquered by sunshine as we headed towards sea level). Belvedere features a small park with picnic tables and an interesting ‘pendulum clock’. An encased pendulum appears to pump water such that “current” time is displayed (pumped water, current…get it?). I glanced at my watch, which digitally reported 11:50AM and sure enough, the clock had eleven of twelve “hour” globes filled as well as twenty five of its “two minute” globes. Pretty nifty!
Eleven "one hour" globes filled and twenty-five "two-minute" globes...PERFECT!
From Grand Bassin we made it into St. Pierre around 1PM. Time for lunch, and once we had savored the wonderfully sun drenched waterfront after this morning’s soaking, we returned to a Mexican snack bar. What lured us back was their offer of “lord” sandwiches, which we had never heard of before. Jeff and I both scored steak lords, the distinguishing feature being nothing more than a tasty big bun. But they were yummy and the cheapest thing around, so a win-win.
Lordy, lordy...that's a good sandwich!
After lunch we made a productive visit to the tourism office, which true to billing, was staffed with English speaking attendants. Sounds like we may get refunded the deposit we put down on Le Gite du Volcan and I made reservations for the remaining two open nights on the island next week. With business concluded, progress continued towards tonight’s lodging further along the coast.
The remarkable aspect we were discovering during our initial ramble about the island was the vast number of natural delights. Proceeding east along the southern coast we veered off the road outside St. Joseph for a wicked ascent to Cascade de la Grande Ravine, also known as Cascade Langevin. Being disappointed by the volcano was easily overcome by visiting a succession of natural wonders and Cascade Langevin was stupendous.
Cascade Langevin...WOW!
Little did we realize how many magnificent waterfalls were still awaiting us, but our first investigation was a brilliant entrée. Cascade Langevin is superb cluster of waterfalls emptying into a common basin. The only peril involved to witness this marvel is navigating the really steep road to reach it. The road follows the Riviere Langevin for 9km after turning off the N2 in Langevin (roughly 4km east of St. Joseph). The road follows the river up into the heavens and there are several spots along the way where it is possible to pull off and jump in the river for a refreshing swim.
You cross the river a few times over bridges (at least one is a single track, so be cautious!), and there was a fair amount of traffic. The Lonely Planet guide forewarns this is a popular weekend destination for locals, so probably much worse then. In spite of twists and traffic, the roadway is visually charming as it winds through small villages and past groves of lychee, avocado and banana trees. Beyond the falls is a small village where the road dead ends, but it does afford a convenient spot to turn around.
There is also a nice waterfall just below Cascade Langevin (Trou Noir, signposted) that also attracted some swimmers. That, however, pales in comparison to the main event. Cascade Langevin is phenomenal – there are four large and several smaller waterfalls spilling into the same pool, each seeming to gush straight out of the mountain side. I’ve never witnessed such a spectacular grouping of waterfalls and heartily recommend braving the ascent – you will be splendidly rewarded!
Finally, we wheeled into the night’s lodging, the Rougail Mangue. Timing is everything, and it was fortunate we turned off the busy road and onto the short driveway just as Cosimo, the owner, was pushing his BMW motorcycle out of the gate. Otherwise I would have thought the entrance was elsewhere because they keep the gates closed and it doesn’t strike you as a proper landing pad. Jeff owns a BMW motorcycle, so naturally he became an instant fan of Rougail Mangue. We were further enamored as we parked and a small herd of pot-belly pigs (apparently pets) scampered past - oui, oui, oui, all the way home?
The Rougail Mangue is a fantastic place, the only shortcoming being that Cosimo doesn’t speak much English. But of course there was a German among the guests who could, and he graciously offered translation services (we would often benefit from multi-lingual tourists). The essentials were quickly communicated and our only question was where we could score some groceries to enjoy an alfresco dinner beneath the gazebo equipped with a full kitchen.
As it turns out, there was a small food store just down the road and we swung by to pick up some shrimp, olives, cheese, chili sauce, peanuts and eight Bourbon beers (the local brew affectionately referred to as “Dodo’s”) for the ridiculous cost of 22 euro. Much cheaper than eating at a restaurant, and we returned to relax by a palm-shrouded pool and enjoy dinner. Our fortunes had definitely reversed.
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