La Digue - Part II
Imagine the pop-pop sound that an inflated balloon makes when you deform it slightly with your fingertips and then let it snap back to its regular shape. Now imagine that sound projected through a megaphone. Now add the heat, humidity and still air of a night near the equator. That should give a rough approximation of the comfort level we enjoyed while trying to sleep through Takamaka‘s fenders slowly rubbing back and forth along the concrete wall at La Digue. Never, ever leave home without earplugs.
One might think that a night such as this would make our visit to La Digue seem off-putting, but one would be wrong, because La Digue is an island that has disallowed personal automobiles, leaving bicycles as the primary mode of personal transportation. And bicycles make everything better.
When we had tied up the previous afternoon, the port employee had asked us if we would be in need of bicycles. When we said yes, he waved over a gentleman that rented bicycles, who said it would be 200 SCR per bicycle for the following day, but he’d throw in the afternoon for free. We were too gassed to be doing much cycling at that point, and there was a consensus that it wouldn’t hurt to do a little price comparison. On our way to the restaurant, a mere 150 yards from the boat, Robbi got a quote for 150 SCR per bicycle, and the guy would throw in the seventh bicycle for free. A savings of nearly 35%!
After the crew had had a spot of breakfast and packed the various necessities for cycling to a beach, we sheepishly walked past the more expensive bicycle purveyor and made our way to the better offer. After much brake checking and tire pumping and seat adjusting and derailleur testing and basket packing, we finally set off on the wrong side of the road headed south.
Photos courtesy of Robbi
We rode past many shops and restaurants, charming old buildings that had seen better days, and not-so-charming cookie-cutter new “resort” construction. When we entered Union Estate, an old plantation that had been turned into a national park, we had to temporarily get off our bikes and pay an entry fee. A woman who seemed unperturbed by the fact that she was dressed in a uniform that would have caused anyone of European descent to burst into flames if they’d been required to wear it in the tropical heat gave us information about the park and the many beaches that lay beyond.
When her PSA was complete, she smiled and gestured toward a couple penny farthing bicycles leaning against a nearby wall and asked me if I’d like to try riding one of them. I said that I didn’t come halfway around the world to not give it a whirl. There were two very large ones, one slightly smaller than the other, and then a much smaller one that she said was “for the ladies.” I chose the mid-size one and discovered that it was much lighter than I was expecting because it was a replica made out of modern materials. Even so, it was more than a handful, and the park ranger gave me instructions to get the contraption going as fast as I could before attempting to hoist myself into the saddle five feet off the ground. After a few attempts, I managed to get underway, and it was at that point that I realized she’d offered no instructions for dismounting, which was even more ungainly than getting on.
Riding the bike was a huge amount of work and terribly uncomfortable. We should consider ourselves fortunate that it was consigned to the dustbin of history. I stuck a leg out as the bike tipped over and somehow managed to avoid tumbling into the dirt, unlike Colleen, who yard-saled in front of a group of tourists coming into the park behind us. She was on the “ladies” version, so it wasn’t nearly as far to the ground, and no harm was done. Mark made it look elegant and effortless.
Photo courtesy of Colleen
Having done our duty of providing total strangers with high-value Instagram and TikTok content, we got back on our rental bikes and continued our way toward Anse Source D’argent, one of the more famous beaches on the island. We added our bikes to the couple hundred parked in a lot near the beach and walked amongst huge granite boulders toward the water. When we got to the sand, it was crowded with people laying on the beach, and there was loud music coming from a little bar tucked under the palm trees. Several social media influencers were posing in the water or on rocks for cameras and drones. None of us were in the mood for such worldliness, so we continued trudging along the sand, occasionally wading through shallow water to go around large hunks of granite that stood in our way. After a half-mile of walking we finally arrived at a part of the beach with few people on it, set down our things, and enjoyed a couple of hours of staring out at the sea under the shade of a thick overstory.
Photos courtesy of Robbi
Photos courtesy of Robbi and Colleen
A mysterious abandoned stone building I found at the southern end of Anse Source D'argent
Our group slowly drifted apart. Some went to a little nearby stand selling fruit and drinks. Some walked around a huge granite outcropping to see what lay farther to the south. Colleen snorkeled in the shallow water while I climbed amongst the rocks and trees to explore an old building situated at the top of a cluster of massive boulders.
Colleen and I rode our bikes back the way we’d come, stopping at a vanilla plantation and the Union Estate’s original house that had been restored to serve as a gift shop and art gallery. When we were nearly back to the place where we’d rented the bikes, we ran into Alisa, who joined us for a late lunch at a nice airy restaurant with beautiful stonework throughout.
With everyone back on board near the end of the day, there was hearty agreement amongst the skipper and crew that there was no point paying for another night of suffering tied to the dock. We paid our docking fee (calculated by the hour), ran a few last-minute errands ashore, then cast off to go just outside the breakwater and drop anchor. A pleasant breeze cooled the boat, Irina made a delicious pizza, and we watched our schooner friend drop anchor nearby against the backdrop of a tropical sunset. When it was dark, we turned on the boat’s underwater lights and watched hundreds of fish swirl around under the boat.
Photos courtesy of Robbi
I awoke in the night to the sound of the diesel engines starting up, as did the rest of the crew. Irina had gotten up to find that we’d dragged anchor and were uncomfortably close to boats anchored around us. It took us several tries in the dark to find another spot that was shallow enough but far enough removed from other boats and the shore. After nearly an hour, the anchor was set once again, and some of us managed to get a few more hours of sleep.