With the children back at school, now’s a good time to enjoy some peace and quiet at your favourite seaside spot…
by Brian MacReamoinn.
You’re sitting on the plane and you’re feeling pretty smug. You’ve got your linen jacket; your string tote bag and you’ve packed a trendy yellow bikini.
You gaze pityingly at your fellow passengers. The young student couple across the aisle who no doubt have a week ahead of them in a high-rise horror on Costa Incompleta; the tall brunette frantically scrolling through her tablet wondering what overcrowded hell awaits her; and the man in a knock-off Panama hat desperately leafing through his guidebook.
They’re all trying desperately to find that special place and you’ve already nailed it, and what’s more they are searching in vain. Because unless they’re locals – and they don’t look like they are, they’re too pale they’ve got loads of freckles – they couldn’t possibly know about the beach (‘your’ beach) that’s so remote and out-of-the-way that it’s not even on a map. When they glance over at you, you assume an air of casual, carefree sophistication.
Soon you’re hopping on the small ferry to the island. What a strange coincidence that the young couple and that tall brunette are also aboard. And isn’t that the same man, holding on to his hat?
Now you’re in the back of the hotel owner’s battered pickup truck making its way down the narrow stony track to the beach – on which you’ve been absolutely convinced no other English person has ever set foot. So there’s no denying your disappointment when the four people sitting opposite are incredibly familiar. The explanation is simple: they’ve all read the same article in the weekend supplement.
Secret coves. Hidden gems. Unspoilt island getaways. These are the clichés of the travel business.

Unexplored corners
But is this all just marketing drivel or is there any substance to the claims? Of course, such hideaways do exist. Although it does seem that every far-flung corner of the world has already appeared on Instagram, there are still plenty of places just lying there, waiting for some lucky person to stumble upon them by accident. But the problem is it doesn’t take long for them to be ‘discovered’ by the voracious tourism industry and then publicly pronounced ‘secret’. As soon as that status is conferred on them, it immediately means the opposite.
It’s a paradox that affects the poor travel writer who has got to sell something while simultaneously trying to keep it hush-hush. It’s a difficult balancing act having to waffle on about private paradises and exclusive Edens, while overlooking the fact that all this is being published in a national newspaper.
Perhaps it’s better to relax and stop worrying about a few other people sharing your peaceful slice of paradise. The only secret worth bothering about is the secret to enjoying your holiday. Oh, is that the time? You’d better rush, you’re supposed to be meeting the student couple, the brunette and Mr Panama for lunch.