Miles of joy on Mexico's coast with the most: The discovery of another lost Mayan city makes the Yucatan Peninsula even more enticing

Inside Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula - now even more enticing

• Mark Palmer explores the Caribbean side of the Yucatan Peninsula
• 'It strikes me as a Las Vegas-on-Sea experience with a pinch of Dubai thrown in'
• READ MORE: My stay at the 'best hotel in Wales' for 2024

The Mayans believed in many gods. They were also highly literate, architecturally advanced and developed a system of mathematics that included one of the earliest examples of zero.

Today, in their former Yucatan heartland – and especially along the Caribbean coast near Mexico’s heaving Cancun – the worship is focused on one thing and one lucrative thing only: tourism. The maths is all about the bottom line.

Most of the architecture isn’t exactly subtle, but what an extraordinary stretch of coast it is, going on and on for nearly 100 miles, punctuated by huge hotels, mainly all-inclusive, sunk into powdery white sand.

It strikes me as a Las Vegas-on-Sea experience with a pinch of Dubai thrown in. And what makes the whole confection so extraordinary is that, until the 1970s, the iguanas, egrets and herons pretty much had the place to themselves.

My first stop is the all-inclusive Grand Palladium Costa Mujeres Resort & Spa, about half an hour north of Cancun. Actually, it is three hotels – one just for families – within the same vast complex and with nearly 1,300 rooms.

There are shops, a theatre, man-made lakes, some 20 restaurants, a Roman Catholic chapel, convention centre, Rafa Nadal tennis centre and vast spa.

Most of my fellow guests are Americans. ‘Where you all from?’ a man wearing a T-shirt that says ‘I’m American by choice’ asks a group of fortysomethings.

‘Chicago,’ one of them replies. ‘Great. Let’s meet for a drink, guys.’

But where? There are 25 bars dotted about the place, and the most popular is the swim-up one in the adults-only pool, where standing in the water with a plastic cup is the main activity from noon until 8pm.

There is no swim-up bar about an hour south, in the direction of Tulum, at Chable Maroma. This is an entirely different proposition, with 70 villas built in among the mangrove forest and exotic palms, each cleverly hidden and all given Mayan names.

‘The mangroves protect us from hurricanes,’ says the man taking me to my billet. Along the way, we stop at the spa and I am invited to take part in a short Mayan ceremony to expunge any lingering negativity.

It involves burning some wood, deep breathing and holding my hands outstretched with palms open as if receiving a gift. Which is apt, because my two nights here are completely spoiling, aided and abetted by charming staff, delicious food and sincere service.

At breakfast one morning I watch as an osprey eagle plucks a fish from the sea and does a triumphant fly-past.

During the day I swim in the warmest of seas and learn from the resident biologist about the efforts made to repair the coral on the reef, which is the second longest in the world after Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.

I’m not meant to snorkel because my ears are dodgy, but I can’t resist when there’s a chance to explore what lies beneath some 400 yards off-shore. It almost feels intrusive when disturbing schools of luminous fish displaying all the colours of the rainbow.

Relations between America and Mexico are tricky, especially along the border. The juxtaposition is that while the US Federal Government tries – and fails – to stem the tide of migrants, the traffic the other way from Americans on holiday becomes ever heavier.

En route to Tulum on a day’s excursion, my knowledgeable guide Silvia deals with the growing menace of Mexico’s drug cartels by saying: ‘When you have Americans looking to consume, there will always be people looking to supply.’ It is 43C (109F) when Silvia and I huddle under her umbrella in front of the main Tulum castle, built in the early 12th century when Mayans went in for human sacrifices. Last week researchers discovered another lost Mayan city, which they have named Valeriana, near inland Calakmul.

Much is made of the seaweed in this area, but it is minimal during my stay – and at Chable Maroma it is collected up each morning.

Mexico is famous for its cenotes – sunken pools of water – and we stop at Gran Cenote, not far from Tulum. I find it an underwhelming experience, although the clear, cool water is instantly refreshing. There are some 8,000 cenotes in this part of the country.

On my last night at Chable Maroma, I eat at Bullo, which has made it into the Michelin guide.

But first I take a seat in the roof-top Raw Bar and watch as the sun sinks behind the Caribbean Sea. The barman had told me the night before that his margaritas are the best in the whole Yucatan Peninsula. I’m no expert, but the first one slides down effortlessly – the second even more so. Throw in the exquisite setting, with a gentle wafting breeze courtesy of swaying chit palm trees, and I’m not sure how this cocktail of pleasure can be surpassed.