Mauritius family holiday: Watersports and reef trips in the Indian Ocean

By RICHARD PENDLEBURY

Paradise: Ile Aux Cerf is the most popular day trip for tourists and locals in Mauritius


The Indian Ocean was a carefree playground of infinite possibility in my youth. Distances were as nothing, given the promise of reef-diving and bar-propping.

Two small daughters shorten the perspective. They don’t like travelling. Devon seems like long haul. But Mauritius has remained a lovely, nagging memory. And in my desire to return, I resorted to cunning.

First, I impressed upon the girls how close Mauritius is to Madagascar and its sister island of Madagascar 2, favourite cartoon films of them both. My second ruse was the introduction of a household mantra: ‘Mauritius is delicious.’

It’s not original, I admit. But do try chanting it out loud and often. It’s hypnotic fun.

Sufficiently entranced, Asya and Rosie skipped onto the overnight flight and were vibrating with well-behaved excitement when we landed. By the time we left Mauritius, the following week, I’d acquired an extraordinary bruise and the unconnected gratitude of a film star, which I shall come to later.

First, I have to confirm our mantra was spot on. Mauritius is the holiday equivalent of a quail’s egg with celery salt.

Only two things of note have happened there in half a millennium. One was the extinction of the native dodo by hungry Dutchmen. (Don’t worry, you can still acquire fluffy toy examples at the airports.) The other was the establishment of the sugar cane industry, by the French. The French are still very fond of the island, perhaps because it was where the Napoleonic navy inflicted its only - albeit insignificant - fleet action defeat on the British.

To no avail. We soon snapped it up and, in our magnanimity, allowed the French settlers and much of their way of life to remain, while abolishing the slavery upon which the sugar planters had relied.

And so, even today, with its driving on the left and other quintessentially British quirks, the defining influence is Gallic, albeit diluted, given the large Indian, African and Chinese communities. French creole is the lingua franca.

Sugar is still big - in fact, much of the island is cane plantation, although high-end tourism is now the most important money-maker.

We stayed at the rather wonderful Le Saint Geran, a resort in the One & Only stable. It is on a private, palm-forested peninsula beside a lagoon on the windward north-east coast; a location more pleasant by far, we discovered later, than the sultry west side of the island.

Nature was all around. Each night hundreds of tiny frogs would hop out of the undergrowth, down the paths and even corridors. Both my daughters kissed them in hope of finding a prince. Of course, there were clipped lawns running down to an alabaster beach and superb accommodation and food; in fact, all the accoutrements of a first-class resort.

What made it for us was the revamped children’s club; well equipped and thoughtfully run by jolly local ladies, it gave us a couple of hours off each afternoon (although the French parents treated it more like a permanent holding pen for their enfants).

We did take a trip away from the coast to the Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanical Gardens near the capital, Port Louis. It was once the grounds of the late 18th-century French governor’s residence and is supposed to be the oldest botanical park south of the Equator.

They are superb, particularly for the multitude of palm species and the enormous Victoria amazonica water lilies. Imagine a green helipad and you have some idea of their scale.

But, as far as I was concerned, we were there for the ocean.

I dived; we all swam. One day, a glass-bottomed boat ferried us out to the reef to watch the abundant marine life. Asya had her first go at water skiing, on a junior board towed at gentle pace around the lagoon.

I was a novice, too. After my first experiences, all I can advise is this - do not let go of the towrope handle if it is pressed snugly into your crotch. Better still, do not press it snugly into your crotch at all. The bruise along the entire length of my inner thigh was the shape, if not size, of the island itself.

More painful was the comment from the boat driver to his mate. In his opinion, I was unlikely to stand up on the skis that side of supper time. The ignominy.


Thrills: Watersports are one of the island's biggest attraction


And the Hollywood actor?

It happened one night during another splendid open-air dinner. A tug at my sleeve signalled that a daughter wanted to be taken to the bathroom. We found it deserted, except, that is, for an immediately familiar figure, hopping from one foot to the other. The door to the only cubicle was shut. ‘He’s been in there ages,’ wailed the star, who has a very good career playing villains. ‘Or else the door is jammed.’

He demonstrated this by giving it another desperate shove. I stepped up and, instead of pushing, pulled. The door swung open. Muttering prayers of thanks, our famous new friend dived in.

He proved thoroughly down to earth and also had two small daughters in tow, with whom mine got on wonderfully. But without a Scorsese or Spielberg to direct him in that bathroom scene, he was utterly lost.

I remembered this cameo on a grey, rainy autumnal evening, as from beyond the study I heard a low lament begin. ‘Mauritius is delicious,’ my two daughters were chanting, with a wistfulness and yearning that belied their years.

I missed it, too.


Travel facts

Kuoni (01306 747008, www.kuoni.co.uk) offers seven nights’ B&B at the five-star One & Only Le Saint Geran, Mauritius, from £1,927pp, including flights, private transfers and use of the airport lounge in the UK.


source: dailymail