Phil and Fran remind us that they're supposed to be on holiday and would really like some beach action before returning home. The obvious choice for this is somewhere along the dramatic coastline in Tayrona national park but annoyingly it's closed for the entire month.
This annual event gives the beaches and trails some recovery time after the peak visiting months of December and January. We can understand the logic but it's bloody inconvenient. Surely our vacation time is far more important than preserving a few delicate eco-systems? That's a joke by the way, not a great one but a joke nevertheless.
Anyway, we're in Santa Marta, jewel of the north Colombian coast so there must be a nice beach somewhere close, right?
Not really. Every review of every cove, bay or playa contains an ominous 'but' ...'a charming town but full of raucous locals', a wonderful beach but impossible to swim due to rip-tides', 'excellent choice but if you haven't booked in advance forget it'. And so on.
So we cast our net further and end up on Isla Palma in the Archipielago de San Bernado, a gorgeous place 3 hours on a boat from Cartegena (Cartegena itself is a 4 hours bus ride from Santa Marta so it's quite a net).
We nab a really good deal at an all exclusive resort and congratulate ourselves for being so travel savvy.
However, as the boat pulls up alongside the jetty we soon realise why it doesn't cost a fortune to stay here. What was once a super swanky destination is looking decidedly sorry for itself.
The paintwork is peeling, the day-beds are rickety and there's loads of shabby/rubbish indigenous 'art' on the walls. The staff are pleasant but clueless and the electrics and plumbing are straight out of the 1950's. Perhaps most tellingly there are only about 25 guests in a hotel that can accommodate 250.
We love it.
The food's good, the beds are comfortable and there's a private beach on a 200 metre spit of sand that we have to ourselves. Bored with the aquamarine water on one side? Walk five paces and try the other side. Don't think the view from the bedroom is spectacular enough? Just ask to move to one of the other 95, they're nearly all available.
That's the great thing about faded grandeur - it means bums like us get to hang out in paradise.
Check out Fran's photo of the resident Frigate birds at sunset. Beautiful.
The island is a bit like Phil's kayak, tiny. No more than half a mile from tip to tip with a sizeable chunk of uninhabitable mangrove. Weirdly it's home to a quirky collection of animals who were brought here for the amusement of well-heeled guests who wouldn't dream of going anywhere near their natural habitat.
So we rub shoulders with flamingoes, howler monkeys, an emu and even a crocodile (although thankfully he keeps a low profile).
The longer we stay here the more we learn about the island's murky past. Once a haven for pirates there have been a host of dubious owners since being developed in the 1970's, including (according to our barmaid) Escobar himself - we're yet to have this verified but it would certainly make sense of the questionable decor.
Yes, five days on a drugs baron's summer retreat will do nicely.
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