You can also find out more about the following:On a map of Spain you can see in the southern-east corner a long strip of empty land that runs along the Mediterranean. There are no major cities and few roads. Its coastline is equally barren – no ports or resorts; just a few tiny villages tucked away in intriguingly named coves – “raven”, “coal”, “bitter water”. This patch of emptyness is the Cabo de Gata-Níjar National park, a protected oasis of desert wilderness at the edge of Europe.
After being forced to cancel a trip to the Algerian Sahara in early this year, I’m now looking forward to visiting this park to experience the stark beauty and arid warmth of the desert. Zooming in on the satellite view, a network of paths appears, suggesting a walking route of around 40 miles (64km) – from the Cabo itself, up the coast, along the cliffs, to the beach town of Agua Amarga. My husband, a keen Iberophile and relentless explorer of España vacia (literally, empty Spain) is always up for a wilderness adventure, so we get in the van and head south.
This is not a camino. No set route or waymarkers are present. There are a number of dirt roads, old mining routes, and stony goat trails that connect the many fishing villages, beaches, and coves in the national park. Many of these are only accessible on foot. The tourist infrastructure is minimal, particularly off-season, but there are enough shops and hotels to make a walk without support feasible. The longest distance without civilisation is approximately 10 miles. Navigation is simple: Keep the sea to your right.
Our journey begins at the Faro de Cabo de Gata (the lighthouse on the tip of peninsula), where we park the van, load a rucksack with oranges and walk along the cliff. We are awed by the beauty of nature as we take our first steps. Wildflowers of pink and yellow adorn the stony hills, while the Mediterranean shimmers silvery turquoise in the sunlight. The barren mountains of the interior stretch out like a huge choppy ocean. It is hard to imagine a bustling real world beyond the jagged skyline.
We admit that we could have done this in just three days if we had been younger and fitter, but we decided to take our time and explore and swim along the way. It was a good decision to take a break on the edge of the cliff. This is not something to rush. The air smells of wild rosemary, lavender, sage and is warm. On the trail, you’ll see flowering succulents and aloe. We follow the rugged coastline, descending towards our destination for the first night, the small town of San José. The palm trees, whitewashed building and crescent bay beckon like a 1930s North African travel poster.
San José is small but it’s the biggest town for miles, and a good halt for stocking up on supplies, or as a base to explore if the full walk isn’t an option. Joe Strummer from the Clash settled here in the 1990s. He fell in love with this area while filming Alex Cox’s Straight to Hell near the Tabernas Desert. Locals still remember him singing in beach bars while drinking rum, cokes and a lot of rum.
In the summer, San José is a busy holiday destination but out of season it transforms into a sleepy one-horse town. Fortunately, the small beachfront Hotel Doña Pakyta stays open all year round, which is fitting, considering its namesake, without whom this corner of Spain would look very different. Doña Pakyta was a Spanish businesswoman and environmentalist, who worked tirelessly to protect the unique Almerian desert and its spectacular coastline from the onslaught of developers in the 1960s.
The owner of 3,300 hectares (8,200 acres) of land around San José, she was deeply connected to the landscape, flora and traditions of the area, and as she watched Spain’s southern coast become ravaged by mass tourism, she held out for her beloved Cabo de Gata, allowing full public access to her beaches and refusing to let her land be built upon. Now the park’s 178 sq miles are a Unesco protected biosphere and Doña Pakyta (also known as Francisca Torres Díaz) was immortalised as a favourite daughter of Andalucía in 2010, the highest distinction to be awarded by the region.
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At every step, I am grateful for her. I gasp in delight and disbelief at the discovery of each cove hidden away or beach with pristine white sand. The only sign of civilisation on the coast is the ghostly remains from a 1960s gold mine and the 18th century forts built to deter pirates.
There are very few other walkers, and only a handful can be seen in the first two full days. We are used to being alone, so it is a shock when we emerge on the beach at Cala de San Pedro to find a human settlement with driftwood shelters. A ramshackle restaurant, a vegetable plot, and even composting toilets for visitors. It’s as though we’ve stumbled into the movie The Beach, and it’s even more astounding as there is no road access to the cove – everything here has been brought in by sea or on foot. This is Spain’s last hippy commune. The 1960s-era community still has about 50 residents.
It’s clear why they stayed. Not only is it the ultimate idyll, but the climb out is the toughest of the entire walk – a steep, 250-metre ascent of rocky, twisty narrow tracks requiring the occasional scramble. The next beach is Cala del Plomo, which we can see from the top of the hill. The beach is empty, except for a group of campervans with signs warning visitors to “be mindful of the energy that they bring into this space”. We resist the temptation of mischief and drag out our last scraps to the sea for a skinny dip at sunset.
Agua Amargo beckons as day five ends with another golden sundown. We descend in a giddy manner to arrive right outside of the town’s one and only hotel that is open during off-season. This last night of luxury felt deserved but at the same time we were a little sad to be returning to civilisation. We had to take a taxi to get back to our van. Walking in the bright, clean surroundings each day has been so satisfying for my body and mind that I’d like to keep walking forever, through the mountains and along the riverbeds. This is not the Sahara, but it is our own little European Desert and it’s perfect.
More information can be found at cabogataalmeria.comThe Cabo de Gata Nijar, Guide and Map: Natural Park and Coast of Almeria It is useful to plan your route.
