After quite a debate about whether we should go to Playa Blanca, the perfect white beach just an hour from Cartagena by boat, or to Tolu, the small town quite a way off the 'gringo trail', 3hrs west, and our sense of adventure won out and off to Tolu we went. It became apparent half an hour in that we may have made the wrong choice. Bone shattering, the only way to describe the road to Tolu. Not so much road as series of giant holes strung out by mud, with military check points inbetween. All around us flood waters were rising, we passed a whole semi trailer over turned in a lagoon, several men half heartedly trying to rescue it by hand. But once we arrived we were swayed into liking the charming little town. With no taxi's, the locals just use a series of bicycles decked out with huge parasoles, blaring music and contraptions that allow them to ferry up to 9 people at a time.
Off the coast of Tolu there are the Islas de San Bernardo. A series of near perfect sounding islands that you can explore and stay on. The only way to get to them is to pay for a tour and get off at the island you want. So we got off on Isla Palma, it had an 'ecopark' and you could stay in tree houses. It was obvious from the moment we set foot on the island that we had made a mistake. The majority of the tiny palm tree and mangrove filled island was privately owned by a resort, and we could not trespass. The 'ecopark' was a series of horrible wooden cages just behind the tree line, in which an array of miserable, wet animals survived. A lonely rabbit, one seriously bored looking water buffalo, some lathargic racoons, a squadron of flamingos with their heads firmly stuck underwater, a tame spider monkey named Rebecca and by far the saddest and most depressing, a pair of dolphins, a shark and two huge sea turtles all kept in seperate tiny pools. If they hadn't looked like they each weighed 200kgs, we would have staged a midnight turtle rescue mission. It was horrific.
The tree house was almost derelict, filled with a collection of very unsettling african masks and animal statues, millions of mosquitos waiting in the unfinished bathroom, ready to attack us as soon as we were in a vulnerable position. The rats that we had spied while getting ready for bed ate our soap during the night. The only way to reach this residence was to walk along a dark and partially underwater path, past all the cages. We would have left immediately if there had been a boat. But we were stranded. And it took a lot of frantic organising to get us off the next day instead of 2 days later as orginally planned.
Once we resumed the tour we reached the tiny Santa Cruz del Islote, the most densely populated island in the world. No actual piece of land in sight, no green, just shacks made of corrugated iron. Then onto Isla Mucura, which was almost what we had expected, white beaches, palm thatched huts, and coral reefs. Within seconds we had been seated at a table in the sand, brought drinks, orders taken and we had by far one of the best meals of our trip. Freshly caught lobsters, BBQ'd to perfection, served simply with coconut rice and plantain. We had finally found a little bit of paradise.
But the adventure wasn't over yet. Just to really confound us, on the boat trip back, in the middle of the open ocean the captain suddenly makes us stand up, and from under our seat he pulls a huge rifle, and casually he hurles it into the waves. Never have we been so relieved to reach dry land.