Watching the sundown on the beach in silence. It is something we, or certainly I, don’t do enough of, but when I do it’s something that I find awe inducing and magical. I gave myself this time a few days ago on the beach of Cantarrijan, after visiting some friends in Nerja.
Cantarrijan is part of a small ‘Natural Reserve’ stretching along the coast between Maro and La Herradura on Andalucia’s ‘Costa Tropical’. Being part of a protected area, it is some of the least developed seafront in the region. Some of the beaches here have no buildings and no facilities whatsoever, in stark contrast to the concrete hell of the Costa del Sol to the West. They are good spots for snorkelling and sea kayaking with many caves and coves to explore. Cantarrijan sits at the bottom of a long, forested valley, rich in wildlife, especially its large and confident population of Spanish Ibex who can usually be seen there. In addition to the Ibex I’ve watched ospreys expertly fishing off the coast, and if you’re having a very lucky day, you might even be treated to the image of a pod of dolphins, arching through the water just off shore.
It was late on Saturday when we arrived, maybe five a clock. A great inky blue grey cloud, threatening rain, was expanding out from the coastal mountains into the sea, but not fast enough to cloak the sun which sat low in the sky over the sea. Being ‘winter’ (although still about 15 degrees), the beach was wonderfully quiet. A few people with hyperactive dogs, high on life, chasing the waves and a bearded young fella stringing his guitar on the beach. But mainly people just sat in silence, like me watching the sun slipping into the sea, listening to the rhythm, the sound of the water. The light sparkled on the sea’s surface and the dark clouds above added to the drama of the dusk.
In people’s hectic, media heavy lives (including my own) taking a moment like this is a rare gift.
I’d been reading ‘Circe’- a book by a wonderful writer, Madeline Miller, based on Greek Mythology. ‘Circe’, a witch, is the daughter of Helios, the Sun God, who daily rides his chariot across the sky. As the gulls flew silhouetted across the sun and the fiery sphere hit the horizon, I thought of Helios and Greek Myth. So much of our world has changed, but here, in a forested valley overlooking the Mediterranean, was a scene our ancient ancestors would know. Helios, descending into the sea, to rest for the night in his palace, in the court of the Titans and Olympians.
