Cap Malheureux ("Cape of Misfortune") earned its name from the French fleet that was defeated by the British here in 1810, ending French rule of the island. Today the cape — the northernmost point of the Mauritius mainland — is associated with an entirely different kind of feeling: the particular peace of a small, utterly beautiful bay at the top of the island, framed by the most photographed church in the country and with a view to three offshore islands that defines the canonical Mauritius postcard image.

Notre Dame Auxiliatrice, the red-roofed Catholic church that stands at the edge of the beach, was built in 1907 and is still an active parish church serving the local fishing community. Its red roof tiles, weathered to a deep terracotta, set against the lagoon and the profiles of Coin de Mire, Gabriel, and Flat Island in the middle distance make a composition that has appeared in travel photographs for a century and still stops people mid-sentence when they turn a corner and see it for the first time.

The beach itself is small — barely 200 metres of coarse white sand — and relatively rocky at its edges. It is not the beach for a long swim or a day of snorkelling in open water; it is the beach for the specific experience of standing at the top of Mauritius and looking north toward the islands across the bluest stretch of water on the island's entire coast. The morning light — low, golden, catching the tops of the waves — is when it's most extraordinary. Chez Babas, the legendary dholl puri stall, operates from a roadside counter just beyond the church: breakfast at Babas, looking out at the islands while the day is still cool, is one of those small but precisely perfect Mauritian experiences.