Trip 43 — Réunion Walk

Day 6: Saint-Leu to La Possession
Monday, 4 November 2024

Today: 57696 steps/43.81 km/27.22 mi/8h 15m
Total: 251974 steps/199.99 km/124.27 mi/36h 54m

For the first time on Réunion, I set out to a symphony of birds. I wondered whether it was a red fody going whoooo or goodj-goodj-goodj or tzee-tzee, but in any case, it was a happy departure in surround-sound.

I haven't had this long a day in a while, and I was nervous about making it in a reasonable time and without exhausting my legs. They had improved since last night, but they took a few steps to get going with confidence.

I looked out for any dried regurgitated bits in the vicinity of the Zinc Bar and left Saint-Leu by the red arc-shaped bridge. Paragliders were soaring out above the sea and way up in the hills. A hen and her chicks were going about their morning business.

A sign announced 27 kilometers to Saint-Paul, my probable lunch spot. It wasn't much after eight, and it was already hot. I stayed on the inland side of the road as long as I could, taking advantage of the shade, but eventually I had to cross over, where I could face the traffic and there was more space to walk.

Short bridges took me over the numerous little ravines, sometimes next to the remains of old stone bridges. Up the slope, the N1 highway had its own modern viaducts.

Lunch would be at an appropriate time, but I would need a break before then. After two hours, I paused at a grocery store and found a liter of that wonderfully sweet, if slightly sludgy, goyavier juice. Saint-Gilles had a pretty marina and aquarium in the center of town, and its restaurants looked inviting but too heavy for a midmorning snack.

What I wanted was a boulangerie, and I found it just outside of Saint-Gilles after darting across the N1A highway during a break in traffic. A pistachio-chocolate "snail" gave me energy; the busy restaurants on a pedestrianized alley just ahead in Boucan Canot were compelling, but I wanted to get halfway through the walking day before I had a meal.

The last hour to Saint-Paul was fantastic. The presence of a protected lane for walking and biking made the experience phenomenal instead of taxing. The water was clear; the air was hot but breezy. By now the remains of my goyavier juice tasted like hot mulled wine, which wasn't necessarily bad.

I finally ordered correctly at La Capitainerie, having a half-dozen real snails and then an octopus salad. Saint-Paul was an important defense city against the British, and cannons of different types and foundries are preserved along the road near the shore.

North of Saint-Paul I entered a forest park and joined others for their afternoon stroll. To my surprise, the ground was strewn with fallen leaves — Réunion is heading into its summer. The forest was lengthy and continued across the pedestrian bridge in Cambaie.

It continued for almost an hour, skirting a military zone, before abruptly ending with a right turn into an ugly industrial area. Instead of the breezy forest, I — and the few bikers who continued this way, and a dog who eyed me suspiciously — was now in sweaty heat, surrounded by trucks and shipping containers and cranes and "Interdit au public" signs and people hammering.

I crossed a long bridge across a vast, stony ravine that looked and felt like the end of the earth. On the other side was Le Port proper, more industry and trade and housing for those involved. It was the antithesis of Saint-This and Sainte-That that had been so enjoyable around the island.

Farther along, La Possession was more of the same, with the addition of the after-work snarl at the N1 interchange. I stopped at a Leader Price supermarket to pick up dinner — I'd be heading up into the residential hills to spend the night, and I was not coming back down for a meal. There were a couple of Chinese takeaway places — and sandwiches available at the turnoff to the hill road — but I wasn't sure they'd be open, and even a sandwich was more than I wanted.

I hoped to get up the hill — four zigzagging kilometers — before sunset, but it happened while I was halfway up. Le Port isn't the prettiest thing to watch over, and the unbroken clouds at the horizon made a dazzling spectacle challenging, but it was still a treat to see a ring of orange above them as all the lights came on.

I'd come all the way down from the Leader Price just to come back up again at the next hill. I hadn't thought that there might be a way across, but when I stopped at a viewpoint I noticed a trail heading southwest toward where I'd come from. Could I have spared myself half a climb?

The main road up was steep; the smaller road I wiggled up for the last two kilometers was even steeper. Well-appointed houses stood behind gates. Dogs secured within their premises barked when they heard me come by, perhaps not because they thought of me as a threat but because their olfactory senses had picked up on the astounding odor of someone who had just walked 40 kilometers in the heat and then huffed uphill for most of an hour.

Gigi and Nadine were my hosts for the night. Gigi had done the Grand Raid, and similar crazy courses in Madagascar and Indonesia, and he displayed his medals proudly. Nadine offered cake and juice, and she was wearing a pink shirt that I'd seen over the weekend: a walk and run that raised €300,000 for patients with cancer. We chatted until I decided I couldn't let them be near me for one more minute without a shower. I peeled off my clothes, got clean, and dug into the carton of gazpacho and Réunion-made cheese and Leader Price dark chocolate.

The cucumber is for tomorrow's climb.

Go on to day 7