Our daughter Sarah and her partner Rob introduced us to the delights of the Cala Llevado campsite in September 2019. They'd been there before and when we teamed up for a joint road trip the plan was to share favourite places. So we suggested Cala Montgro and Mèze and they recommended Millau Huttupia and Cala Llevado.
The latter site is delightful which might seem surprising given the place is humongous with 587 pitches - a mixture of log cabins, pods, Tipis, places for mohos and caravans and hundreds of tent pitches with ehu. Really it is more a resort than a campsite with a pool complex, sports facilities, restaurants and beach bars. Part of the French chain, Sea Green, what is on offer is not really the simple back to nature experience espoused on their website in the section somewhat pretentiously titled philosophy. The following page is given over to a 'values' statement and customer 'promises' written in trite corporate gobbledegook. I should hate the place, and probably mid-August, with all 587 pitches packed and the place pulsating to execrable Europop, I would.
In September and October it's a different matter, with most of the site deserted its unique character (or USP if you want to stay David Brent about it) becomes more apparent. The setting is spectacularly beautiful, spread across three steep wooded valleys each leading down a beach. It occupies a rare, undeveloped stretch of glorious coastline between Tossa de Mar and Lloret.
By mid October, a couple of weeks before the site closes, most of the visitors are fellow retirees in motorhomes or perky Millennials in campers. each group gathering in their own enclave, not for reasons to do with tribal affiliation but due to topography. The whole site is worryingly vertiginous. The only pitches easily accessible by medium or large motorhomes are those adjacent to reception (Greyland).
Campervans can venture a little further into the more wooded terraces down the hill (The Kingdom of Man-bun), but even these are a few hundred metres from the beaches, both in terms of distance and altitude. The main part of the sprawling site is made up of tipi style erected tents or camping pitches scattered about on shady terraces. Most have a pine fringed prospect of the Mediterranean straight of a travel brochure. Indeed the winsome image on the front of the first edition of the 'Cool Camping' guide featured a view from Cala Llevado. It looked a bit like this...
In the low season the lower section of the site is almost deserted and in moments you can find yourself quite alone wandering through the beautiful woods.
Which is exactly what we did, making our way gingerly down the steep track that leads to to the Cala Llevado and Cala d'en Carlos beaches.
Last time we were here it became a favourite spot, not only because it's a nice small beach but also because of Chiringuito Mar Azul. This small 'pop-up' beach restaurant as well as serving up excellent cocktails and great freshly grilled fish caught locally also boasted a 'huerto' or veg plot on the slope behind the restaurant. It grew all manner of fruit, veg and herbs, including an invasion of butternut squash which had managed to escaped the driftwood edged raised beds and seemed set on colonising the beach.
It was September 2019 when we were here previously, given this visit is later in the season we headed for Mar Azul more in hope than expectation, we half anticipated it would have shut up shop. In fact it had more than closed, it had disappeared altogether, dismantled we presumed to protected the structure from winter storms or vandalism. All that remained was the 'huerto', stripped of produce apart from the herb garden which was wild with big clumps of oregano, coriander and basil.
A WhatsApp conference ensued between Gill and Sarah regarding the moral probity of filching a bit of basil. While they struggled with the ethics of foraging un-wild herbs I sat down on a rock and stared at the sea. It's a very gawping into infinity kind of place.
After a while Gill joined me, a bunch of basil protruding shamelessly from her shoulder bag. Great for tonight's puttenesca,' she asserted. It was.
It was a tough climb from the beach back to our pitch near reception. I had forgotten just how precipitous the place is. Really with Gill pending an appointment to assess whether she requires knee replacement surgery this was not the best place to stay. Gill mentioned that Stiges seemed like a lively interesting town, perhaps at a stretch we could have made it as far south as that with the time we have. A more urban destination with public transport might have suited her better.
One of the things I dreamed about during the long months of lockdown and travel restrictions was wild swimming in the Mediterranean, Cala Llevado is great for that with four varied beaches and coves to choose from. I do wonder if we are here because it suits me, but somewhere else might have been a better 'couples choice.
On your arrival the receptionist hands you a plan and clearly is under instruction to point out all the wondrous amenities on site. At this time of year it didn't take very long as most things had closed. Still she was able to give particular attention to the delights Cala Llevado's four beaches, Platges de Llorell highlighted as the best beach for families, then finally, just to avoid any misunderstanding the receptionist pointed to Cala Figueres, 'This is naturist one,' adding, as if to avoid any possible ambiguity about the matter, 'where nude people like to go.' Then she annotated our plan, drawing a cross on the cove and adding the letter 'N' in capitals.
Well, it's good that everyone is catered for. The only downside from a wild swimmer's point of view is that Cala Figueres is the loveliest of the coves. I can see why it has been labelled 'naturist' because it is the least overlooked and the most challenging to reach. However, its designation means that it is no open longer to everyone, because understandably not everyone feels comfortable surrounded by bare-arsed strangers. On our last visit here I stumbled upon a fudge that resolved the dilemma for me. I figured that the place would be quieter first thing, and concluded that I would be able to cope more easily with a couple of naked people than an entire beach full. So I headed down for a swim at sunrise, which in September is a little before 8am. Cala Figueres was deserted. I had a solitary morning swim four days in a row and discovered that no one else ever turned up much before 9.30.
This little rocky cove, barely 50m across really is one of the loveliest places to take a morning dip that a know. I was looking forward to reacquainting myself with it. Luckily next morning the weather was sunny and calm and for the first time in over a year I had a wonderful, soulful swim just after sunrise.
As the day progressed the wind picked up, never beyond the point of being a fresh breeze, but strong enough to fleck the tops of the waves white. When I headed off for a swim the following morning I could see the main beach from our pitch, the surf was fizzing a bit, but not dangerously. The path down to Cala Figueres zigzags through the trees, I counted the uneven steps one time, there are 487 of them! Part way down you get a glimpse of the place, it was wild, a seething cauldron of turquoise and white, big waves breaking on the rocks, dangerous currents crosshatching the cove. No way! I turned around and headed back for breakfast.
We would be leaving tomorrow, so maybe that would be it so far as my soulful swims at sunrise were concerned. We took the bus to Tossa de Mar on our last day, the wind dropped a little and we were able to sit outside at lunchtime. Next morning the sea looked somewhat calmer. I decided to take a chance. I love swimming in the sea, but I am self taught and not exactly a strong swimmer. I know my limitations but I figured I could cope with the swell rolling into Cala Figueres, it was a calculation I had to get right, if you are swimming alone in a secluded cove and get into trouble, then you've had it really.
My final swim was not exactly soulful, invigorating would be a more appropriate euphemism. Still, I was only comically up-ended once by the breakers as I struggled to wade back to the beach through the shallows, scraping my knee slightly on the shingle in the attempt. Luckily my impromptu belly flop was not exactly embarrassing, somewhat counter intuitively, it's not really possible to make a fool of yourself when on you are alone. As I dried myself I wondered if the same thing was true of nudity. Though on a naturist beach, and aside from holding a towel, bare - was I practicing nudism when on my own and unobserved? Probably not I concluded. Essentially it's a kind of informal club. I don't do clubs. What if anything do such ruminations say about me? I don't think I am especially prudish, but shy and somewhat socially avoidant maybe. Which is why I find something profoundly liberating about swimming in solitude.
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