Playa Los Médanos sits just beyond Claromecó's tidy beachfront, separated by a fifteen-minute walk along the firm tidal margin. The name translates plainly—The Dunes Beach—and the topography delivers: blonde sand hills rise and shift with every southwesterly, their windward faces carved into scalloped ridges that catch the late-afternoon light. Surfers dot the break where sandbars channel the swell into clean shoulders, and the absence of umbrellas and coolers feels deliberate, earned.
“An active dune field that reshapes itself weekly, creating an ever-changing frontier just steps from a quiet beach town.”
Playa Los Médanos Claromecó — photo by mujik estepario
The beach runs wide and flat at low tide, hard enough for barefoot jogging, soft enough to collapse onto after paddling out. Marram grass holds the foredunes in place, but beyond that first ridge the landscape opens into a miniature Sahara—trackless bowls and knife-edge crests that muffle sound and disorient even locals. Gulls ride thermals above the swales; occasionally a fox prints a dotted line across virgin sand.
You'll share the water with a handful of regulars who nod but don't chat, and families from inland towns who've driven two hours for elbow room. By dusk the wind usually dies, the dunes glow apricot, and the only decision left is whether to stay for the stars or retreat to town for grilled corvina and a half-bottle of Torrontés.
