From Mauritius to Réunion: Volcanoes, Horsepower, and the Long Way Home
Another morning, another country to leave behind. At this point, preparing to sail from one country to another has become about as routine as making dinner. Just another day aboard Okisollo.
Dan W and Tom (my new crew) headed off for some last-minute provisioning, stocking up on fresh food. And the really exciting news: We have a working refrigerator!
After weeks of refrigeration drama, Dan W managed to bring ours back to life. It’s amazing how sailing halfway around the world can completely redefine luxury. Forget five-star hotels. Just give me cold water and a refrigerator that actually refrigerates, and we are living like royalty.
Meanwhile, I went through the usual pre-departure checks. Engine? Good. Rigging? Good. Everything secured? Close enough. Time to transform Okisollo from a comfortable floating apartment back into our ocean-going sailing machine. It’s remarkable how quickly one innocent coffee mug sitting on a countertop can become a high-speed projectile once we’re offshore.
At noon, we said goodbye to Mauritius and pointed the bow toward Réunion, 130 miles across the Indian Ocean. By my midnight watch, life was pretty spectacular. We were gliding across the ocean at 8 knots in just 15 knots of breeze, with our brand-new asymmetrical spinnaker pulling us effortlessly through the darkness. This is the kind of sailing I love.
Naturally, the ocean decided we were having too much fun. The wind climbed into the 20-knot range, presenting me with a difficult decision. Do I keep flying our beautiful new sail and enjoy the speed, or take it down before converting several thousand dollars of sailcloth into a colorful collection of expensive ribbons. Having previously demonstrated my ability to accomplish exactly that (Jeanne knows the story), I reluctantly chose the responsible option. A moment of deeply disturbing personal growth.
We continued through the night under white sails until 6 a.m., when the spinnaker made its triumphant return. With a lovely 13-knot breeze, we enjoyed another beautiful sail toward Réunion. Then, just three miles from the harbor, the wind went from a pleasant 13 knots to a rather enthusiastic 30.
Apparently, Réunion wanted to make sure we were paying attention.
So, down came the spinnaker. On came the engine. Time for the next challenge: Docking a 52-foot, full-keel sailboat in a tight, busy harbor with 30 knots of wind. For those unfamiliar with full-keel sailboats, they’re wonderful at tracking straight across oceans. Unfortunately, in tight quarters, they maneuver with all the grace and agility of a shopping cart with a stuck wheel. Add 30 knots of crosswind, expensive neighboring boats, and a healthy audience of spectators, and suddenly docking becomes a professional sporting event. Fortunately, I executed a beautiful docking. With no collisions. No shouting. No insurance claims. And, disappointingly for the spectators, no entertainment. I think I actually enjoy the pressure.
Welcome to Réunion! What an incredible island. The scenery is spectacular, dramatic, and apparently designed by someone who looked at ordinary mountains and thought, “Not nearly dramatic enough.” There are towering peaks, deep valleys, lush tropical forests, and a volcano. What’s not to love?
I decided to begin my exploration with an organized tour of the volcano. For those who know me well, you already understand that organized tours and I have a somewhat complicated relationship. It started with a 2½-hour bus ride to the volcano. Fair enough.
Then, through the extraordinary magic of organized tourism, we managed to transform a perfectly reasonable 35-minute walk into a painfully slow three-hour expedition.
Three hours! I’m fairly certain we could have watched the volcano grow faster than our group was moving. At one point, I began to wonder whether we were actually touring the volcano or participating in a geological experiment to measure human patience. Then another 2½-hour bus ride back. I survived. Barely.
The highlight, however, was lunch. A genuine farm-to-table experience with incredible food, fascinating animals, and a beautiful setting. Everything was fresh, delicious, and wonderfully authentic. The only thing that wasn’t fresh was my enthusiasm for organized tours.
For my next adventure, I decided a different approach was necessary. Enter the BMW R1250R. No tour guide. No bus. No waiting for 30 people to take the same photograph of the same rock. Just me, 1,250cc of German engineering, and an island full of spectacular mountain roads. Now we’re talking! Suddenly, a three-hour tour could now be accomplished in under two. This was much more my style.
One of the highlights was riding the Nouvelle Route du Littoral, an extraordinary feat of engineering built along the rugged coastline. It’s an incredible road, with the ocean on one side and dramatic mountains on the other. I left at 5:30 Sunday morning and had much of the road to myself. It was absolutely spectacular. The scenery was breathtaking. At least I assume it was. At certain speeds, scenery becomes more of a colorful blur. I won’t disclose my speed, but I can confirm that BMW builds motorcycles considerably faster than organized tour groups. And unlike the volcano tour, nobody stopped me every five minutes to explain a rock.
Of course, no adventure is complete without a mechanical challenge. The motorcycle battery decided it had done enough for the day and promptly died. Perfect. Nothing adds excitement to a motorcycle adventure quite like trying to arrange a jump-start in a French-speaking country when your French vocabulary consists primarily of “bonjour,” “merci,” and an increasingly desperate collection of hand gestures. I learned that interpretive dance may actually be an international language.
Fortunately, I got things sorted out and continued my adventure. The windy twisty roads were a playground on my way to Trois Cascades. One of the highest peaks on the island surrounded by waterfalls and dramatic cliffs. My kind of riding.
Super fun!
Now, back to the ocean.
I’m aboard Okisollo again, preparing for our next crossing. This time we’re heading to South Africa, sailing south of Madagascar and across another serious stretch of the Indian Ocean.
This promises to be a challenging passage. Big ocean, potentially big weather, and plenty of miles between us and the next safe harbor. Exactly the kind of sailing that makes me feel alive.
Onward...
So, what was the problem with the battery? Maybe a bump start!