We spent Christmas in Mauritius, a lush island of mountains, forests, and seemingly endless coastline. Mauritius and Seychelles share a surprisingly layered history. Both sat along the European trade routes to India and the East, first used as stopovers by the Portuguese. The French followed, establishing permanent settlements and pushing the Portuguese out. Later, the British arrived, flexed their imperial muscles, and took control.
The result today is a fascinating cultural blend—French place names, English governance, and populations descended from enslaved people brought from India and mainland Africa to build colonial infrastructure. Creole French dialects remain widely spoken, making French still incredibly useful. These islands are hugely popular with Europeans escaping winter and with Indian honeymooners and anniversary travelers. Americans, on the other hand? Almost nonexistent. We were a novelty.
In Mauritius, we lucked out spectacularly: four free nights at what is—hands down—my favorite beach resort ever. Every corner of the property had a jaw-dropping view. Beaches, pools, shaded loungers, breezy restaurants—it was all ridiculously beautiful. Even better, there was a fantastic running route that followed the beach and cut through a neighboring resort with a river, forest paths, and spectacular tortoises. Casual wildlife encounters before breakfast? Yes please.
The resort had everything: a great gym, sauna, cold plunge, multiple pools, free kayaks and sailboats, complimentary snorkeling trips—and of course, we did all of it. We even did a scuba dive. Along the way, we met lovely travelers from South Korea, Poland, and India.
Eventually, though, we had to tear ourselves away. Mount Kenya loomed, and we needed to trade poolside lounging for hiking legs. We moved to a different part of the island, closer to the mountains, staying in an Airbnb that… required some adjustment. Only the bedroom had air conditioning, which I should mention is no small thing—these islands are hot and humid. At the resort, cooling off was easier. At the Airbnb, not so much. We were near the ocean, but not a swimmable stretch—muddy, polluted, and clearly avoided by locals.
On Christmas Day, we hiked through the forest to a high viewpoint. Nothing spectacular, but it loosened the joints and included a long, steep descent that we handled just fine—good prep for Le Morne a few days later.
Le Morne is the island’s iconic peak, and while technically straightforward for us, we saw many people struggle once the route turned steep and scrambly. We hired a guide—not because we needed one, but because it supports the local economy and the islanders strongly recommended guides to keep the tourists from hurting themselves.
The guide also shared the mountain’s haunting history. Escaped enslaved people once lived atop Le Morne while freedom was being fought for below. When Europeans later approached the mountain, the community feared recapture—and leapt to their deaths rather than be enslaved again. Hence the name: Le Morne—the mountain of mourning. The climb itself was beautiful, and the views from the summit were spectacular. Sobering history, stunning scenery—a powerful combination.
From Mauritius, we flew to Seychelles, a cluster of islands that felt more upscale and European—many long-term European residents, though again with a strong population of Indian ancestry. We visited three islands, ferrying between them.
Running here? Not great. The only options were busy roads shared with cars, trucks, and motorcycles. We tackled a cross-island trail that felt genuinely adventurous—mostly clear but occasionally overgrown, climbing from rainforest into scrubby highlands and back down to the sea. We didn’t see another hiker. I loved the solitude and glimpses into remote corners of island life. The downside? Heat, humidity, and bugs. Lots of bugs. Mike paid dearly in bites.
The scuba diving, though, was phenomenal. In a protected marine area, we saw turtles, rays, small sharks, and massive schools of brilliantly colored fish. It was my favorite dive so far and one of Mike’s favorites.
Our final island, La Digue, was special. Small, relaxed, and largely car-free, it’s a place where bicycles rule. We explored almost the entire island on two wheels, which felt joyful and old-school in the best way.
We joined a snorkeling boat trip on a day with serious ocean swell. Our boatmates were a Swedish family with four young kids—two of whom got seasick and threw up repeatedly. Not ideal. But once we reached sheltered coves, the snorkeling was excellent and well worth it.
We also paddleboarded a few times and we now are comfortable doing that sport – in case we get on The Amazing Race!
Overall, island life was… fine. I’m just not a sit-on-the-beach-with-a-cocktail person. Give me water sports, movement, and adventure and I’m happy. Expect me to lounge all day at the beach or pool – not going to happen!
