Dolphins disappoint, but paragliding becomes a new favourite

I wrote this entry after returning from Honeymoon, but the posting date coincides with when we were actually experiencing what's described here.

With a sufficient pile of reading material and the occasional dip in pool or ocean, supplemented by the odd cocktail, I could spend months on a beach. I am most certainly NOT one of those people who gets bored in the scenario; in fact, I'm hoping heaven exists, and provides me with an eternity of reading really good books in lovely surroundings without having to move around much.

My new husband is a far less slothful soul. He is also so pale that, even slathered with factor 30, spending more than half an hour in direct sunlight is dangerous. So we had a challenge. The week of beach lounging was definitely for me, but if he was to have as good a time as I was having, we needed to do more. Thus I reduced my novel consumption and agreed to spend some time on my feet.

Mauritius seems to have about a dozen tourist attractions across the island, all of which are advertised in the Air Mauritius in flight magazine and then pushed steadily to you by hotel concierges. In our case, it was a rep from Mauritours, our travel agent's local partner. Sadly, the rep was the only really bad experience we had on the whole trip. An unenthusiastic, ill-informed, disorganised and inarticulate English expat who looked badly rumpled and smelled worse, Roger certainly didn't fit in to our luxurious surroundings. His trips were good value for money, however. Averaging £60 per person, they provided transportation, access to activities and refreshment. Quite a deal when we were paying about that much each night for wine and cocktails.

We chose two tours: swimming with dolphins, and Ile aux Cerfs. Our big lesson: We should have pushed the rep for far more information. In both cases, our experiences didn't match his short descriptions (in one case worse, in one better) and we were unprepared for the day.

To get to the dolphins, we had to be ready for pick up in the lobby at 6:30. Too early for breakfast or any chance of coffee. We were picked up by a taxi driver who, unlike our airport transport, spoke little English and wasn't interested in attempting much conversation in any language. The rep had recommended this over another place where you could play with lion cubs because that one was so far away; we ended up driving past the lion place on the way to the dolphins. The drive was an hour and a half, crossing the whole island and stuck twice in urban traffic. Combining the drive out and the return, we spent more time in the back of the taxi than we did with the dolphins.

Arriving at a small public beach just below the posh holiday home enclave of Flic en Flac, the taxi driver motioned us towards three motorboats anchored in the shallows, without any more instruction. One of the captains decided we were with him and told us to wait. After about 20 minutes of aimless milling, about a dozen of us clambered aboard and headed out into the bay.

This is not, it turned out, the kind of swimming with dolphins that's offered in many tropical resorts, where the dolphins are either captive in a facility or tame and trained to come to a certain area. These are wild dolphins, who come and go at will and move fast. What Roger SHOULD have said is that you will probably see dolphins, and you'll get in the water, but you may not get that close. That expectation not set, this trip was a bit of a bust. Wild dolphins do frequent this bay, in numbers and varieties that change daily. Some days there are 200 bottle nose, who love people and come right up to the swimmers. On our day, there were about 30 spinners who are far more reticent. We would motor up to them and jump off the boat, only to have them disappear. I saw some dark shapes below, and could clearly hear their clicking communication, but the photos from the boat were our closest encounter. After 40 minutes of chasing the elusive beasts, we progressed on to a reef and had the option to snorkel. The reef didn't look as well-populated as ours at the hotel, and towels weren't provided on the boat (another critical piece of information Roger didn't provide), so I decided to stay on the boat and bake dry; the thought of an hour and a half in the back of the taxi in damp clothing didn't appeal.

The second trip was more of a success, though again bore no resemblance to Roger's description, which was basically ... you'll go to the very pretty Ile aux Cerfs (island of the deer), and lunch will be provided. This time, we were ready with towels, but left behind the waterproof camera we'd brought for the dolphins.

The trip should have been described as a day on a catamaran, with a wide mix of activities and a stop by the island at the end. After a 40-minute drive down the east coast of the island, stopping at three resorts to pick up others (and confirming that we were at by far the nicest place) we arrived in the fishing village of Trou d'Eau Douce, where a small harbour lies at the bottom of a steep hill. This is filled with catamarans and mock pirate ships and is, clearly, the key port for excursions on this side of the island. Ours was a medium-sized cat with a crew of three and about 25 passengers, though we could have held more.

We spent the first hour sailing further south down the coast, though it was such a still day we eventually had to add the motor. This offered the most beautiful views of Mauritius on the trip. As we sailed between the reef and the shore, with beaches, green coastal plain and mountains framing the view, we were treated to scenes on par with the best of the Caribbean, complete with crystal-clear waters and a dizzying array of blues. Eventually we turned into the mouth of the Grande Reviere Sud Est, waiting our turn for the next part of the excursion. The river gets very narrow very quickly, so the passengers on each boat need to transfer to smaller, flat bottomed craft to make their way up it. Once aboard that, you motor up the river, flanked by stone cliffs and jungle foliage. Monkeys play in the trees and exotic birds skim above you. After the driver navigates some boulder-studded shallows, you come to an impressive waterfall crashing through volcanic black boulders. It's a sight worth the effort to get there.

Back on the boat, the crew had the barbecue on the back corner smoking, the bar open and Mauritian pop music blaring. (The latter is a mix of reggae, Bollywood and urban funk. Fun and appropriate for the day, but I won't be looking for an iTunes download.) We then motored out to the reef and dropped anchor for a bit of snorkeling before lunch. The reef at the hotel was actually better, with richer coral and a colony of striking purple spiny sea urchins, but I spent about 40 minutes happily floating here before lunch. (Piers, not a snorkeling fan, stayed on the boat.) There followed a very competent meal of chicken, slaw and garlic bread, with the crew eager to refill your plate or top up a bottomless rum and coke.

The lunchtime lounge finished, we headed for the headline destination, the Ile aux Cerfs. Which is, technically, two islands. Tourists get dropped on the margin between the two, which at low tide is a stretch of beach between pine forests and at high tide a strip of water 10-feet wide that can be easily waded through. The south island is mostly the golf course of Le Touessrok, the north left to nature, and the strip in the middle provided with some sun loungers, a bar and restaurant and a cluster of huts selling local crafts and ice cream. It is, according to the guidebook, possible to walk around the whole island in a couple of hours and in so doing you can find completely deserted beaches. But we only had an hour here, so settled for getting an ice cream and sitting in some shade (Piers had begun to realise he'd overdone the sun by this point) to take in the stunning views.

The fact that we only had an hour, I must admit, was due to the fact that we'd taken a 40-minute detour via the paragliding platform on our way to shore. This turned out to be one of the top 10 experiences of honeymoon. Strapped into harness together, linked to a parachute behind and a speedboat in front, it's amazing just how smoothly you glide off the platform and sail up into the air. You're only aloft for about two minutes, but every second was astonishing. The views are exquisite, the sense of weightlessness intoxicating and the silence magical. Sadly, I have no pictures in the air because there's always a chance of taking a dip if you miss your landing (ours was perfect) and the staff don't want you blaming them for water-ruined camera equipment. So they stand on the platform with your camera and take pictures of you, instead. I had the underwater camera, of course, which could have done the job. But it was back at the hotel thanks to Roger's failure to mention most of the activities of the day. At £60 for the two of us it was a pricey two minutes, but we'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I'm glad we got out to see something of the island beyond our hotel, but in retrospect I would have skipped the dolphins. The experience didn't merit the six hours we spent away from the paradise that was our own hotel. But the Ile aux Cerfs expedition was definitely worth the effort. If you do it, just remember to bring your waterproof camera.