EVEN people who struggle to stifle a yawn at the mention of the word 'history' shouldn't rule out visiting museums on trips to Spain – unless they also hate chocolate, toys, beer, arts and crafts, space,...
Bubblegum lake city: Touring Torrevieja and taking it with a pinch of salt
08/08/2022
SEEING the world through the proverbial rose-tinted spectacles is fairly typical when you're on holiday, and for newly-settled expats once they get the practical hurdles of a move abroad out of the way. Of course, it never lasts forever, but here in Spain, once the pink glasses come off, the full spectrum of colours awaits you at every turn.
Literally, as well as metaphorically: Multiple shades of green, a different one dominating depending upon where you are in the country or, even, in the same province; desert-yellow through to off-white in drier zones and on beaches; flame-red in some mountainous areas or red-gold in the central plains; pale purple in the province of Guadalajara during lavender season; a full set of traffic lights covering every micrometre of the pH scale in autumn.
Rivers and seas, too, that range from fluorescent turquoise on bright days, navy-blue where clear waters coincide with very white sand on the bed, gunmetal grey when storms gather (and the odd one of these in high summer is always welcome, refreshing the humid, sizzling atmosphere).
Obviously, water on its own doesn't have a colour. It reflects the sky, what's around it, the colour of its base, or what's in it. Which is why the iron-oxide content of the famous Río Tinto in the province of Huelva makes the river turn a permanent shade of fiery orangey-red.
That's without even mentioning the rainbow of pastel colours and primary colours the buildings, including private homes, are habitually painted in. Why be grey when you can be psychedelic blue?
And back to those rosy specs, you may well have seen or heard of the bright chewing-gum-pink lakes found in far-flung tropical countries – La Laguna Colorada in Bolivia's breathtaking Uyuni salt flats, the Las Coloradas nature reserve in México's Yucatán peninsula, Lake Hillier on Australia's Middle Island and Hutt Lagoon in Western Australia, and Lake Retba near the coast of Sénégal, about 35 kilometres from the capital, Dakar.
There's also one in Canada – Lake Dusty, in British Columbia – and in Azerbaijan, Lake Masaszir, a Barbie-pink infinity pool spanning a whole 10 square kilometres.
Naturally, as we're telling you about peony-coloured pools in particular, there must be one in Spain, too.
There is – it's in Torrevieja. And although the pink lake will probably now top your sightseeing list if you travel there, it's one of a string of must-see features in this popular seaside destination, nearly all of which can be traced back to its heyday when a very simple ingredient, produced in endless quantities locally, turned Torrevieja into a wealthy global trading hub.
Mediterranean salt-marsh territory
Although Spain's 16 National Parks are spread far and wide, meaning there isn't always one you can take a day-trip to – unless you live in Andalucía, which has three, or the Canary Islands, with four – a smaller-scale version known as a Parque Natural is much easier to find.
In fact, it's likely you have at least one in the outskirts of your town or within a short few kilometres of it, since officially-protected nature reserves, or 'Natural Parks', are practically everywhere.
Some are mountains or mountain ranges, some are forests or wide-open fields, some are complete beaches with dunes home to rare species of marine birds, others are inland swamps, or salt marshes fed by the sea.
They range from tens of thousands of acres to enclaves that would fit comfortably in the grounds of a family farm, from a mass of woodland you can see end to end without binoculars through to swathes of land, trees and water the size of a small county. And although they do not enjoy the same international fame as National Parks, they do get a similar level of State protection and, if you live right next to one, you're guaranteed never to find yourself boxed in by a sudden housing development popping up in your line of vision; they're permanent green-belt.
Salt marshes abound in the eastern region of the Comunidad Valenciana – the massive Albufera wetlands which engulf almost the whole of the southern coast of the province of Valencia, the Pego-Oliva Marjal on the Valencia-Alicante province border, both of which double up as paddy fields whose crop led to the creation of the star local dish, paella; the urban salt flats in the bustling, lively, high-rise beach town of Calpe (Alicante province), where commuters can sit and admire flamingo colonies whilst they're stuck in traffic jams; and the region's southernmost 'Natural Park', the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons.
This is the only land-sea swamp that's a working salt 'mine', and the condiment you sprinkle on your chips and have to be sparing with if you have high blood pressure has shaped the entire history and culture of one of the province of Alicante's most popular beach-and-pool holiday hangouts.
High salt content: All at sea with Torrevieja's unique visitor magnets
Clearly, if you take your summer break in this cosmopolitan port town, your main objective is going to be chilling out by the sea or in a pool lounger on one of its numerous peripheral urbanisations, those white-painted villa developments that are often the size of a large village in themselves, frequently with enough bars and shops as to be completely self-contained.
But don't stop there. Torrevieja is too fascinating to waste by treating it merely as a source of hot weather and swimmable water.
At one end of the picturesque port-side esplanade, the Paseo de Vistalegre, with its colourful flea markets, you can take a complete tour of the now-disused S-61 Delfín, a genuine Royal Navy submarine in use for 30 years from 1973 and then turned into a floating museum in 2004.
Entry costs a mere €2, and you'll be left with a new respect for the seafaring military when you see the environment they lived in underwater, non-stop, for months on end.
Tipped at first to become another floating museum, Torrevieja's much-loved 'pilot boat', or ocean-going ship, the Pascual Flores, had an exhausting career rebounding off the shores either side of the Atlantic during colonial times, transporting salt cargoes mainly to Cuba and, after having been left to rot in the port of Milford, Wales, for nearly a century, the wreckage returned to the southern Costa Blanca just in time for the Millennium.
A multi-million-euro restoration project was scaled down to save costs – what was left of it was used to build a faithful replica, which is employed as a Naval training base for nine months of the year and moored at the Eras de la Sal for the other three.
Once you've taken a selfie with the Pascual Flores, the Eras de la Sal – which more or less translates as 'Salt Warehouse' – should be on your 'to-do' or 'to-explore' list. It was turned into a concert hall years ago, and hosts the annual Habaneras Festival which, if you're able to arrange your holidays in time for, is an unmissable event; not just for the moving, uplifting music, but because of its massive cultural and historical significance.
Named after the Cuban capital of La Habana, sea-shanties, or habaneras, waxed lyrical about home and long-anticipated reunions with loved ones, and kept ship crew members' spirits up as they sang them a cappello over the lengthy journeys from Torrevieja to the Caribbean island nation, guardians of valuable trading stocks – mostly salt. Tinged with wistful nostalgia, but laced with hope, a dash of bolero and a touch of classical Cuban music, a full repertoire of the original, often spontaneously-invented in passage, marine folk songs are revived by choirs on stage in a series of concerts spanning several days.
Torrevieja's sea and salt museum is small, but fascinating and under-advertised: Sculptures made from the mineral that kept its inhabitants wealthy until Spain lost its colonies are intricate, painstaking and perfect, ranging from detailed model ships to foot-high seafront pavilions, including the famous late-19th-century modernist Torrevieja Casino (now the 'casino cultural club' headquarters), complete with columns and arches and pagoda-style roofs – and, naturally, live in glass display cabinets to keep them intact.
Here, you'll find what seems to be a 'miniature Torrevieja', from authentic copies of real-life ships you could fit into a shoe-box, through to a doll's-house version of the ancient Vistalegre bathing station, pavilion and promenade – right down to beach-huts, benches, palm trees and a couple of market stalls.
All types of marine memorabilia, from ship parts and fishing equipment through to ancient photos, as well as archaeological findings from the sea floor – remember, the western Mediterranean is a well-documented hotbed of Roman remains with what appears to be at least one amphora or clay wine bottle a week unearthed by passing divers – are contained within just a couple of small rooms on the harbour-front C/ Patricio Pérez, which is free of charge to enter.
At the north entrance to the town, a salt-free feature that's almost certain to become your Facebook cover photo after your trip is the Parque de las Naciones, or 'Nations Park' – a large pond with an island in the shape of the continent of Europe you can walk all over. Every country flies its national flag, miniature houses and shrubs bursting with flowers pop up every few steps, and even a handy little bridge helps you cross the Channel from Calais in France to Dover in the UK.
Peacocks, hens, cockerels and ducks potter around, fountains explode with refreshing watery mist, a children's park includes a giant dinosaur with a goofy grin, and a myriad of footpaths takes you in between dense labyrinths of trees, bushes, and colourful bloom.
Torrevieja is a permanent hub of human activity, very much a working town with plenty of industry not linked to its huge tourism sector, fresh fish restaurants, ice-cream parlours, constant movement, a nucleus of harbour life and urban life, home to well over 100 nationalities and frequently visited by leisure travellers from dozens of countries. Which makes the sharp contrast of the La Mata Lagoons even more noticeable – a tangible silence that hits you in the same way as that wall of oven-heated summer does as you leave an air-conditioned supermarket; a sensory shock, but a pleasant one that seems to force the tension of busy-ness to leave your body, almost against your will, replacing it with an all-engulfing, soothing feeling of slowing down.
Orchid silence: A balmy oasis with rare fish and an eclectic feathery census
It's a bit like being whacked in the face with a healing calm, dumped in the emotional equivalent of a warm bath, or sinking into a deep, plush sofa after a day of rushing around finishing errands against impossible deadlines. Stepping out into the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons nature reserve means taking your foot off the acelerator, putting your pen down at the end of a three-hour exam, that first Christmas Eve mulled wine after the last of the mountain of presents bought that same afternoon is wrapped; if Torrevieja town is the school year, the Lagoons nature reserve is the end of the final day of term.
And over 3,000 black-necked grebe can't be wrong.
This endangered water bird, known as the Podiceps Nigricollis, is anything but rare in the nearly 9,250 acres (37.4 million square metres) of pin-drop silent countryside that spills over into the neighbouring towns of Guardamar del Segura, Rojales, and Los Montesinos; once you know what they look like, you'll be seeing them everywhere when you stroll around the tree-lined footpaths at the shores of the immense lakes.
About 56% - well over half – of the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons is water – almost 5,190 acres of it, of which two-thirds sits within Torrevieja's boundaries and the remainder within the adjoining village of La Mata.
Among isolated clusters of pines popping up within the wide-open green, small freshwater streams meander around, separated from the main bodies of H2O by accident of geography and somewhat incongruous in a landscape where even the dry earth is ultra-salty.
Wading birds, such as the stilt and the pied avocet, birds of prey such as the Montagu's harrier, aquatic birds such as the Common Shelduck, shorebirds such as the Kentish plover, seabirds such as the Little tern and Common tern, and the curiously-classified 'waders' which live almost entirely on arid land, the Stone-curlew, are all year-round inhabitants, meaning the feathered population of the Torrevieja area is as cosmopolitan as that of its humans.
Life in the lakes is limited, due to their exceptionally-high salt content – around 350 grams of salt per litre, or two parts water to one part salt; the only known fauna in the lagoons is the artemia salina or Brine shrimp, an odd-looking and extremely rare creature that looks like the skeleton of a prawn and which, according to specialist biologists, lives entirely in inland salt water and has not evolved in over 100 million years.
The salt lagoons were formed naturally, but an artificial canal known as the Acequión – translating literally as 'large canal', in fact – was built in recent decades to enable the sea to continue to supply water to them and prevent their levels going down, putting flora and fauna at risk, during heatwaves and drought.
Coastal plant-life which thrives in salty air, such as thyme, the squat, lush Aleppo pine – also known as Jerusalem pine, or Pinus halepensis, an exclusively-Mediterranean species – Kermes oak (which is actually a bush rather than a tree), and sparto grass (regularly used, dried out, in traditional craftwork), grow freely and unaided throughout the reserve, although the lagoons' real botanical gem is the wild orchid. Severely threatened and incredibly hard to find in general, a firm fixture on the 'Red List' of endangered plants, the Orchis Collinae in the Torrevieja-La Mata park are the largest population of the species in the entire Comunidad Valenciana.
One plant that does not grow wild, but grows extremely well, in the lagoons reserve is the Muscatel grape, endemic in the province of Alicante and which loves hot summers and mild, humid winters, infrequent but abundant rainfall, and salty sea air – for this reason, working vineyards form a minor part of this immense marshland.
Milkshake lake and its near-invincible life-form – ready-salted, with carrots
Like a huge, glistening mirror, capturing the light, lapping sandy shores – resembling a narrow beach – the vast pre-coastal waterland is already a haven of jaw-dropping beauty, without needing to house the kind of exceptional natural wonder that's indelibly inscribed on everyone's travel bucket list, compelling them to take long-haul flights at enormous expense just to see it in the flesh.
But the Torrevieja-La Mata lagoons' greatest 'open secret' is precisely that – or would be if it was more 'open' and less 'secret'.
Over time, the proliferation of a specific type of algae, one of those rare plants that can survive and reproduce comfortably in waters with such a hefty salt concentration that almost any life form would swiftly perish in it, has changed the colour of the lagoons.
Nowadays, the Torrevieja-side lake is a bright shade of bubblegum-pink, irrespective of what colour the sky is – no grey on stormy days, nor brilliant blue on cloudless days, and the rosy hue at dawn or twilight is not merely a transient state produced by a reflection of the sun.
Just like the Uyuni, the Retba, the Masazir and the Hutt, these milkshake tones are produced by a single-cell algae known as Dunaliella, native to some of the saltiest waters on earth – lakes and swamps with such extreme levels of sodium chloride that practically nothing else can live in for any length of time, meaning it has no neighbours and can colonise its entire habitat.
Not only does it cope with saltiness that would kill nearly any other flora, the Dunaliella is capable of withstanding extreme intensities of light, very low levels of oxygen and nitrogen, and in these environments, its naturally-green colour absorbs huge quantities of glycerol and beta-carotenoids (or β-carotenoids).
It is β-carotene which gives carrots their bright orange tones, and this, combined with the whiteness of the salt itself, and the Dunaliella's chameleon-like ability to alter its pigmentation and shape to adapt to its surroundings, means that now it is abundant in the Torrevieja salt lagoon, it has turned the water pink.
Every bit as pink as the flamingoes you'll see in colourful, leggy crowds if you're there at the right time of year.
A small number of freshwater species of Dunaliella exist – these are incredibly rare, unlike the more common marine and inland salt-water types – but, given that a freshwater environment does not provide the same conditions it needs to adapt to as a hypersaline lagoon does, this algae would not turn a river pink if it found its way there and multiplied.
Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons nature reserve, although widely known about in the Comunidad Valenciana and, to a lesser extent, elsewhere in Spain, is not hugely famous internationally, neither is the fact that its vast water-sheet has turned pink become common knowledge.
If it was, the usual annual summer influx of visitors would probably swell dramatically, and travel much farther to get there.
If you're already in Spain, or if you fly to the nearest airport (Alicante-Elche) and hire a car, the lagoons are fairly easy to find. Take the N-332 inter-provincial highway, heading south from the terminal – or north, if you fly to Murcia instead – and it's signposted as you get near Torrevieja.
The Information Centre at the entrance to the reserve offers organised walking and cycling tours, and can provide maps, directions and other information to ensure you get to see the best bits of it.
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SEEING the world through the proverbial rose-tinted spectacles is fairly typical when you're on holiday, and for newly-settled expats once they get the practical hurdles of a move abroad out of the way. Of course, it never lasts forever, but here in Spain, once the pink glasses come off, the full spectrum of colours awaits you at every turn.
Literally, as well as metaphorically: Multiple shades of green, a different one dominating depending upon where you are in the country or, even, in the same province; desert-yellow through to off-white in drier zones and on beaches; flame-red in some mountainous areas or red-gold in the central plains; pale purple in the province of Guadalajara during lavender season; a full set of traffic lights covering every micrometre of the pH scale in autumn.
Rivers and seas, too, that range from fluorescent turquoise on bright days, navy-blue where clear waters coincide with very white sand on the bed, gunmetal grey when storms gather (and the odd one of these in high summer is always welcome, refreshing the humid, sizzling atmosphere).
Obviously, water on its own doesn't have a colour. It reflects the sky, what's around it, the colour of its base, or what's in it. Which is why the iron-oxide content of the famous Río Tinto in the province of Huelva makes the river turn a permanent shade of fiery orangey-red.
That's without even mentioning the rainbow of pastel colours and primary colours the buildings, including private homes, are habitually painted in. Why be grey when you can be psychedelic blue?
And back to those rosy specs, you may well have seen or heard of the bright chewing-gum-pink lakes found in far-flung tropical countries – La Laguna Colorada in Bolivia's breathtaking Uyuni salt flats, the Las Coloradas nature reserve in México's Yucatán peninsula, Lake Hillier on Australia's Middle Island and Hutt Lagoon in Western Australia, and Lake Retba near the coast of Sénégal, about 35 kilometres from the capital, Dakar.
There's also one in Canada – Lake Dusty, in British Columbia – and in Azerbaijan, Lake Masaszir, a Barbie-pink infinity pool spanning a whole 10 square kilometres.
Naturally, as we're telling you about peony-coloured pools in particular, there must be one in Spain, too.
There is – it's in Torrevieja. And although the pink lake will probably now top your sightseeing list if you travel there, it's one of a string of must-see features in this popular seaside destination, nearly all of which can be traced back to its heyday when a very simple ingredient, produced in endless quantities locally, turned Torrevieja into a wealthy global trading hub.
Mediterranean salt-marsh territory
Although Spain's 16 National Parks are spread far and wide, meaning there isn't always one you can take a day-trip to – unless you live in Andalucía, which has three, or the Canary Islands, with four – a smaller-scale version known as a Parque Natural is much easier to find.
In fact, it's likely you have at least one in the outskirts of your town or within a short few kilometres of it, since officially-protected nature reserves, or 'Natural Parks', are practically everywhere.
Some are mountains or mountain ranges, some are forests or wide-open fields, some are complete beaches with dunes home to rare species of marine birds, others are inland swamps, or salt marshes fed by the sea.
They range from tens of thousands of acres to enclaves that would fit comfortably in the grounds of a family farm, from a mass of woodland you can see end to end without binoculars through to swathes of land, trees and water the size of a small county. And although they do not enjoy the same international fame as National Parks, they do get a similar level of State protection and, if you live right next to one, you're guaranteed never to find yourself boxed in by a sudden housing development popping up in your line of vision; they're permanent green-belt.
Salt marshes abound in the eastern region of the Comunidad Valenciana – the massive Albufera wetlands which engulf almost the whole of the southern coast of the province of Valencia, the Pego-Oliva Marjal on the Valencia-Alicante province border, both of which double up as paddy fields whose crop led to the creation of the star local dish, paella; the urban salt flats in the bustling, lively, high-rise beach town of Calpe (Alicante province), where commuters can sit and admire flamingo colonies whilst they're stuck in traffic jams; and the region's southernmost 'Natural Park', the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons.
This is the only land-sea swamp that's a working salt 'mine', and the condiment you sprinkle on your chips and have to be sparing with if you have high blood pressure has shaped the entire history and culture of one of the province of Alicante's most popular beach-and-pool holiday hangouts.
High salt content: All at sea with Torrevieja's unique visitor magnets
Clearly, if you take your summer break in this cosmopolitan port town, your main objective is going to be chilling out by the sea or in a pool lounger on one of its numerous peripheral urbanisations, those white-painted villa developments that are often the size of a large village in themselves, frequently with enough bars and shops as to be completely self-contained.
But don't stop there. Torrevieja is too fascinating to waste by treating it merely as a source of hot weather and swimmable water.
At one end of the picturesque port-side esplanade, the Paseo de Vistalegre, with its colourful flea markets, you can take a complete tour of the now-disused S-61 Delfín, a genuine Royal Navy submarine in use for 30 years from 1973 and then turned into a floating museum in 2004.
Entry costs a mere €2, and you'll be left with a new respect for the seafaring military when you see the environment they lived in underwater, non-stop, for months on end.
Tipped at first to become another floating museum, Torrevieja's much-loved 'pilot boat', or ocean-going ship, the Pascual Flores, had an exhausting career rebounding off the shores either side of the Atlantic during colonial times, transporting salt cargoes mainly to Cuba and, after having been left to rot in the port of Milford, Wales, for nearly a century, the wreckage returned to the southern Costa Blanca just in time for the Millennium.
A multi-million-euro restoration project was scaled down to save costs – what was left of it was used to build a faithful replica, which is employed as a Naval training base for nine months of the year and moored at the Eras de la Sal for the other three.
Once you've taken a selfie with the Pascual Flores, the Eras de la Sal – which more or less translates as 'Salt Warehouse' – should be on your 'to-do' or 'to-explore' list. It was turned into a concert hall years ago, and hosts the annual Habaneras Festival which, if you're able to arrange your holidays in time for, is an unmissable event; not just for the moving, uplifting music, but because of its massive cultural and historical significance.
Named after the Cuban capital of La Habana, sea-shanties, or habaneras, waxed lyrical about home and long-anticipated reunions with loved ones, and kept ship crew members' spirits up as they sang them a cappello over the lengthy journeys from Torrevieja to the Caribbean island nation, guardians of valuable trading stocks – mostly salt. Tinged with wistful nostalgia, but laced with hope, a dash of bolero and a touch of classical Cuban music, a full repertoire of the original, often spontaneously-invented in passage, marine folk songs are revived by choirs on stage in a series of concerts spanning several days.
Torrevieja's sea and salt museum is small, but fascinating and under-advertised: Sculptures made from the mineral that kept its inhabitants wealthy until Spain lost its colonies are intricate, painstaking and perfect, ranging from detailed model ships to foot-high seafront pavilions, including the famous late-19th-century modernist Torrevieja Casino (now the 'casino cultural club' headquarters), complete with columns and arches and pagoda-style roofs – and, naturally, live in glass display cabinets to keep them intact.
Here, you'll find what seems to be a 'miniature Torrevieja', from authentic copies of real-life ships you could fit into a shoe-box, through to a doll's-house version of the ancient Vistalegre bathing station, pavilion and promenade – right down to beach-huts, benches, palm trees and a couple of market stalls.
All types of marine memorabilia, from ship parts and fishing equipment through to ancient photos, as well as archaeological findings from the sea floor – remember, the western Mediterranean is a well-documented hotbed of Roman remains with what appears to be at least one amphora or clay wine bottle a week unearthed by passing divers – are contained within just a couple of small rooms on the harbour-front C/ Patricio Pérez, which is free of charge to enter.
At the north entrance to the town, a salt-free feature that's almost certain to become your Facebook cover photo after your trip is the Parque de las Naciones, or 'Nations Park' – a large pond with an island in the shape of the continent of Europe you can walk all over. Every country flies its national flag, miniature houses and shrubs bursting with flowers pop up every few steps, and even a handy little bridge helps you cross the Channel from Calais in France to Dover in the UK.
Peacocks, hens, cockerels and ducks potter around, fountains explode with refreshing watery mist, a children's park includes a giant dinosaur with a goofy grin, and a myriad of footpaths takes you in between dense labyrinths of trees, bushes, and colourful bloom.
Torrevieja is a permanent hub of human activity, very much a working town with plenty of industry not linked to its huge tourism sector, fresh fish restaurants, ice-cream parlours, constant movement, a nucleus of harbour life and urban life, home to well over 100 nationalities and frequently visited by leisure travellers from dozens of countries. Which makes the sharp contrast of the La Mata Lagoons even more noticeable – a tangible silence that hits you in the same way as that wall of oven-heated summer does as you leave an air-conditioned supermarket; a sensory shock, but a pleasant one that seems to force the tension of busy-ness to leave your body, almost against your will, replacing it with an all-engulfing, soothing feeling of slowing down.
Orchid silence: A balmy oasis with rare fish and an eclectic feathery census
It's a bit like being whacked in the face with a healing calm, dumped in the emotional equivalent of a warm bath, or sinking into a deep, plush sofa after a day of rushing around finishing errands against impossible deadlines. Stepping out into the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons nature reserve means taking your foot off the acelerator, putting your pen down at the end of a three-hour exam, that first Christmas Eve mulled wine after the last of the mountain of presents bought that same afternoon is wrapped; if Torrevieja town is the school year, the Lagoons nature reserve is the end of the final day of term.
And over 3,000 black-necked grebe can't be wrong.
This endangered water bird, known as the Podiceps Nigricollis, is anything but rare in the nearly 9,250 acres (37.4 million square metres) of pin-drop silent countryside that spills over into the neighbouring towns of Guardamar del Segura, Rojales, and Los Montesinos; once you know what they look like, you'll be seeing them everywhere when you stroll around the tree-lined footpaths at the shores of the immense lakes.
About 56% - well over half – of the Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons is water – almost 5,190 acres of it, of which two-thirds sits within Torrevieja's boundaries and the remainder within the adjoining village of La Mata.
Among isolated clusters of pines popping up within the wide-open green, small freshwater streams meander around, separated from the main bodies of H2O by accident of geography and somewhat incongruous in a landscape where even the dry earth is ultra-salty.
Wading birds, such as the stilt and the pied avocet, birds of prey such as the Montagu's harrier, aquatic birds such as the Common Shelduck, shorebirds such as the Kentish plover, seabirds such as the Little tern and Common tern, and the curiously-classified 'waders' which live almost entirely on arid land, the Stone-curlew, are all year-round inhabitants, meaning the feathered population of the Torrevieja area is as cosmopolitan as that of its humans.
Life in the lakes is limited, due to their exceptionally-high salt content – around 350 grams of salt per litre, or two parts water to one part salt; the only known fauna in the lagoons is the artemia salina or Brine shrimp, an odd-looking and extremely rare creature that looks like the skeleton of a prawn and which, according to specialist biologists, lives entirely in inland salt water and has not evolved in over 100 million years.
The salt lagoons were formed naturally, but an artificial canal known as the Acequión – translating literally as 'large canal', in fact – was built in recent decades to enable the sea to continue to supply water to them and prevent their levels going down, putting flora and fauna at risk, during heatwaves and drought.
Coastal plant-life which thrives in salty air, such as thyme, the squat, lush Aleppo pine – also known as Jerusalem pine, or Pinus halepensis, an exclusively-Mediterranean species – Kermes oak (which is actually a bush rather than a tree), and sparto grass (regularly used, dried out, in traditional craftwork), grow freely and unaided throughout the reserve, although the lagoons' real botanical gem is the wild orchid. Severely threatened and incredibly hard to find in general, a firm fixture on the 'Red List' of endangered plants, the Orchis Collinae in the Torrevieja-La Mata park are the largest population of the species in the entire Comunidad Valenciana.
One plant that does not grow wild, but grows extremely well, in the lagoons reserve is the Muscatel grape, endemic in the province of Alicante and which loves hot summers and mild, humid winters, infrequent but abundant rainfall, and salty sea air – for this reason, working vineyards form a minor part of this immense marshland.
Milkshake lake and its near-invincible life-form – ready-salted, with carrots
Like a huge, glistening mirror, capturing the light, lapping sandy shores – resembling a narrow beach – the vast pre-coastal waterland is already a haven of jaw-dropping beauty, without needing to house the kind of exceptional natural wonder that's indelibly inscribed on everyone's travel bucket list, compelling them to take long-haul flights at enormous expense just to see it in the flesh.
But the Torrevieja-La Mata lagoons' greatest 'open secret' is precisely that – or would be if it was more 'open' and less 'secret'.
Over time, the proliferation of a specific type of algae, one of those rare plants that can survive and reproduce comfortably in waters with such a hefty salt concentration that almost any life form would swiftly perish in it, has changed the colour of the lagoons.
Nowadays, the Torrevieja-side lake is a bright shade of bubblegum-pink, irrespective of what colour the sky is – no grey on stormy days, nor brilliant blue on cloudless days, and the rosy hue at dawn or twilight is not merely a transient state produced by a reflection of the sun.
Just like the Uyuni, the Retba, the Masazir and the Hutt, these milkshake tones are produced by a single-cell algae known as Dunaliella, native to some of the saltiest waters on earth – lakes and swamps with such extreme levels of sodium chloride that practically nothing else can live in for any length of time, meaning it has no neighbours and can colonise its entire habitat.
Not only does it cope with saltiness that would kill nearly any other flora, the Dunaliella is capable of withstanding extreme intensities of light, very low levels of oxygen and nitrogen, and in these environments, its naturally-green colour absorbs huge quantities of glycerol and beta-carotenoids (or β-carotenoids).
It is β-carotene which gives carrots their bright orange tones, and this, combined with the whiteness of the salt itself, and the Dunaliella's chameleon-like ability to alter its pigmentation and shape to adapt to its surroundings, means that now it is abundant in the Torrevieja salt lagoon, it has turned the water pink.
Every bit as pink as the flamingoes you'll see in colourful, leggy crowds if you're there at the right time of year.
A small number of freshwater species of Dunaliella exist – these are incredibly rare, unlike the more common marine and inland salt-water types – but, given that a freshwater environment does not provide the same conditions it needs to adapt to as a hypersaline lagoon does, this algae would not turn a river pink if it found its way there and multiplied.
Torrevieja-La Mata Lagoons nature reserve, although widely known about in the Comunidad Valenciana and, to a lesser extent, elsewhere in Spain, is not hugely famous internationally, neither is the fact that its vast water-sheet has turned pink become common knowledge.
If it was, the usual annual summer influx of visitors would probably swell dramatically, and travel much farther to get there.
If you're already in Spain, or if you fly to the nearest airport (Alicante-Elche) and hire a car, the lagoons are fairly easy to find. Take the N-332 inter-provincial highway, heading south from the terminal – or north, if you fly to Murcia instead – and it's signposted as you get near Torrevieja.
The Information Centre at the entrance to the reserve offers organised walking and cycling tours, and can provide maps, directions and other information to ensure you get to see the best bits of it.
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