Deer Island -Île aux Cerfs in French- is the most famous islet in Mauritius and the star destination of boat trips on the east coast. Despite the name, there are no deer today: it was named after the ones the settlers released for hunting. What it does have is some 87 hectares of white-sand beaches, palm trees, filao trees and an almost unreal turquoise lagoon, protected by the reef, which have made it the island's ultimate postcard.
The islet lies opposite the village of Trou d'Eau Douce, inside a huge, shallow lagoon. It can only be reached by sea, and that is a large part of its charm: the classic way to visit is aboard a catamaran or speedboat, on a full-day excursion that usually includes a stop at the Grand River South East (GRSE) waterfall, snorkelling in the lagoon, a barbecue lunch on board or on the beach, and several hours to enjoy the sand.
The island has an international-standard 18-hole golf course (Le Touessrok Golf Course), water sports -parasailing, banana boat, kayak, jet ski-, bars and restaurants, as well as large public beach areas. There is no overnight stay: it is a daytime paradise. Very busy in high season, it is still a must for anyone who wants the Mauritius of crystal-clear water and catamarans, ideal to combine with Mahébourg, Blue Bay and the rest of the east and southeast.
Île aux Cerfs owes its name to the Javan deer that European settlers released on the islet for hunting in the days of Isle de France; none remain today. For centuries it was a wild corner of the eastern lagoon, until 20th-century tourism turned it into the most visited islet in Mauritius, with developed beaches, water sports and a golf course. The full story -from colonial lagoon to tourist icon- is on the history page.
Read the full history ↓The southeast around Grand Port, where the Dutch landed and the 1810 naval battle was fought, together with the Mahébourg lagoon and the turquoise islets of the east coast.
Read the history of The east and the islets →If you only have one day, take a guided tour on the first one: it sets up the rest of your trip and saves you a lot of walking. We look ours up on Civitatis: guided in Spanish and booked online with no fuss. There are not many in Isla De Los Ciervos, but the ones there are worth it. Tap the cards below and have a look.
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Origins, formation and what the sources say.
Île aux Cerfs is a fragment of coral and sand on the edge of one of the largest lagoons in Mauritius, off the east coast, in the district of Flacq. Like the rest of the main island, it is volcanic in origin, but its features were shaped by the sea and the reef: a coral barrier encloses a shallow, calm lagoon that, over thousands of years, laid down the white sand that forms its beaches today. At around 87 hectares, Île aux Cerfs is barely a dot on the map, but a privileged dot, thanks to the clarity of its waters.
Before the Europeans arrived, the main island and its islets were covered in native forest and home to endemic wildlife, much of it now extinct. The lagoon islets, Île aux Cerfs among them, were part of that isolated ecosystem, with coastal vegetation, seabirds and reptiles. There were no people: Mauritius was one of the last habitable places on the planet to be settled, and only from the 17th century onwards, with colonisation.
That starting point — an island without humans and with a unique natural world — is key to understanding the history of Île aux Cerfs and of all Mauritius: almost everything we see today, from the deer that gave it its name to the palm trees and the tourists themselves, is the result of what later arrivals brought, released or built.
The islet's name hides a small irony: it is called Île aux Cerfs — Deer Island — yet today there are no deer. The explanation lies in the colonial era. Under the rule of Isle de France — and as far back as Dutch times — Europeans introduced the Rusa or Javan deer (Rusa timorensis) to Mauritius, brought from Southeast Asia for hunting and to supply the colony with meat. These deer multiplied on the main island and, according to tradition, were also released on some of the lagoon islets, including this one, which came to be called Île aux Cerfs, 'island of the deer'.
Over time, the deer disappeared from the islet — because of hunting, its small size or changes in how the land was used — and the name remained as a reminder of that colonial Mauritius of plantations and hunts. The Javan deer, on the other hand, is still found on the main island, especially in the hunting reserves and estates of the interior, and is part of the local cuisine ('cerf' is a much-loved dish). It is a good example of how much of Mauritius's wildlife is imported, while the native species were dying out. The deer joins the pigs, rats, macaque monkeys, mongooses and hares that settlers released over the centuries, completely transforming the island's biological balance and contributing, along with deforestation, to the disappearance of dozens of endemic species, the dodo among them.
Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, Île aux Cerfs was little more than a wild corner of the lagoon, with no particular role. Life and the economy of the east revolved around sugar cane on the mainland and the fishing villages along the coast, such as the one that would grow up opposite the islet: Trou d'Eau Douce, whose name refers to a spring or stream of fresh water near the sea.
The transformation of Île aux Cerfs came in the 20th century, and picked up speed after Mauritius gained independence in 1968. The country, which had lived off sugar cane, set out to diversify its economy with the textile industry and, above all, tourism. Beaches and lagoons that for centuries had been mere scenery became the island's great economic resource, and islets with crystal-clear waters turned into commercial treasures.
Île aux Cerfs, with its mix of white sand, turquoise lagoon and proximity to the coast, was an ideal candidate. From the 1970s and 1980s, with the development of the big resorts on the east coast — among them Le Touessrok, now Shangri-La — the islet was fitted out for tourism: the beaches were organised, bars, restaurants and water-sports stands were set up, and it became the boat-trip destination we know today. In 2002 an 18-hole golf course designed by Bernhard Langer opened on the island, taking up much of its interior and raising its international profile.
And so, in just a few decades, the islet went from an anonymous corner of the lagoon to the most visited and photographed spot in Mauritius. The catamarans that now set sail from Trou d'Eau Douce and the southeast, with music, snorkelling and a barbecue lunch, are direct heirs of that tourism push that completely reshaped the destination. Trou d'Eau Douce itself, once a modest fishing village, reinvented itself as a departure port, with guesthouses, restaurants and dozens of families who make a living from the daily back-and-forth of ferrying visitors to and from the islet.
Today Île aux Cerfs is a 'daytime paradise': every morning it fills up with visitors arriving by speedboat and catamaran, and every afternoon it empties out, because nobody stays overnight on the islet. That particular rhythm is part of its identity. The island offers public beaches and equipped areas, parasailing, jet skiing, kayaking and snorkelling, as well as the golf course and the classic stop at the Grand River South East waterfall that almost every excursion includes.
Its success, however, brings tensions that are now being debated in Mauritius. Overcrowding in high season and at weekends, the pressure of boats and motorised sports on the lagoon, and beach erosion are real problems that call for a more sustainable kind of tourism. As elsewhere on the island, the beauty that draws the crowds is also what the crowds put at risk. That's why it's worth visiting mindfully: respect the coral when snorkelling, leave no rubbish behind and, whenever you can, choose the quieter days and times.
Beyond those tensions, Île aux Cerfs still sums up the tropical dream that made Mauritius famous: a lagoon of clear water, white sand beneath the palms and a catamaran rocking on the turquoise. Its story — from the colonial deer that gave it its name and are no longer there, to the tourist islet of today — is also, in miniature, the story of how Mauritius reinvented itself, for better and for worse, around the beauty of its sea.
