You approach through a nature reserve gate, following packed-earth trails past abandoned tuna-processing buildings whose stone walls hold the scent of dried salt and wild fennel. The sand runs pale gold, compacted enough to walk barefoot without sinking, bordered by dunes stabilized with sea daffodils and prickly juniper.
“One of the few Mediterranean beaches where protected wetlands press directly against the shore, hosting migratory species steps from where you swim.”
Credit: UnsplashLong-tail boats moored in clear water
Wading in, you'll notice how the seabed shelves gently—forty meters out, the water barely reaches your waist. Small gilt-head bream dart around your ankles. Behind you, the wetlands hum: reed warblers click in the canes, and if you visit in autumn or spring, greater flamingos stand on one leg in the shallows, filtering brine shrimp through curved bills.
There are no loungers, no beach clubs. You carry what you need—a canvas bag, a cotton towel that smells faintly of lavender from your rental's linen cupboard. By late afternoon, shadows from the coastal pines stretch across the sand, and the only sounds are the slap of small waves and the rustle of lizards in the dune grass.
