The sea, its moods and its rules

The Mauritian lagoon has a reputation as a calm pool, and it often deserves it. The reef around it shelters it, and the risk of a shark attack there is low and extremely rare. Yet this safety has its limits. They come down to three things: what lives on the bottom, what the sea brings from afar, and the very nature of certain shores.

A few lagoon dwellers call for attention. Stonefish and lionfish inflict very painful stings. Sea urchins and jellyfish can cause a strong reaction. Jellyfish appear only occasionally, and their presence is generally announced when it occurs. In every case, a sting warrants seeing a doctor, and the SAMU answers on 114.

Swell is a train of waves born far from the island, under a wind that is not blowing where it arrives. It can travel thousands of kilometres before dying away, and raise the sea on a day when the wind stays light on the coast. Its effect on the shore depends on its strength at the outset, but also on the tide. It is more marked during spring tides, at full moon and new moon. At high tide, in the lagoons, swell can cause a noticeable rise in the water level.

The Mauritius Meteorological Services issue a high waves warning when a heavy swell from far away, or the storm surge of a distant cyclone, threatens the coasts. Wherever possible, a special communiqué announces it about twelve hours in advance. The advice that goes with it leaves no room for doubt: avoid going to the beach or into the water, and bring boats to shelter.

Another instruction, rarer, is worth knowing. If the sea suddenly draws back or rises for no apparent reason, a tsunami may be approaching: head for high ground without waiting, never go down to the shore to watch, and follow police instructions. A tsunami moves faster than a person can run. It can strike by day or by night, travel up rivers from the sea, and wrap around an island to hit, with the same force, a coast that does not face its origin. Go back to the beach only once the emergency services have given the all-clear.

Some shores are not made for swimming, and they make no secret of it. On the south coast, wild and jagged, the waves break against cliffs of volcanic rock. At Gris Gris, near Souillac, the currents are strong and the waves huge: you walk there, you look at the cliffs, you do not swim. At the Pont Naturel, between Le Souffleur and Le Bouchon, the sea is strong and violent, and the arch of volcanic rock is to be admired from dry land. Le Souffleur, close by, owes its name to the jet of seawater that bursts from the rock like a geyser. These are places for the spectacle, not for a swim.

Elsewhere, vigilance is less conspicuous. At Le Goulet beach, on the north-west coast, swimming is dangerous in places: on crowded public holidays, the police, including the coast guard and the Special Mobile Force, post lookouts at the points judged dangerous.

On public holidays, when Mauritians flock to the public beaches, ambulances stand by on the island’s main beaches, from Flic en Flac to Le Morne, from Belle Mare to Trou d’Eau Douce. At Albion, on the west coast, a group of lifesavers, the Albion Life Saving Group, comes to the aid of swimmers, near the coast guard post. These arrangements are no substitute for each person’s own caution, nor for heeding high waves warnings.

Trips out to sea follow simple rules. The boat must carry a registration beginning with PC, assigned to vessels operated for commercial purposes, and you choose an operator holding an official licence. On board, you follow the instructions of the skipper and crew, wear the life jacket provided, and never sit in the bow of a motorboat. With dolphins and whales, finally, the approach rules are to be respected: the sea is their territory too.