Rafael Lorente

THE WRITER AND DIPLOMAT RAFAEL LORENTE (MADRID, 1924-1990) SPENT LONG PERIODS OF TIME IN MOJÁCAR AND AGUA AMARGA FROM THE NINETEEN SIXTIES ONWARDS. HE WRITES ABOUT THIS IN HIS MEMOIRS THALASSA (ALMERÍA, INSTITUTE OF ALMERIAN STUDIES, 1994), THIS EXCERPT IS TAKEN FROM THE BOOK.

Cayuela accompanied us to a bar and introduced us to a fisherman who was quite young, herculean and moustached, and who smiled spontaneously and continually. He was called Salvador, and he had come to take us in his boat, posthaste, to Agua Amarga. A memorable excursion, difficult to forget. We started off skirting the island of San Andrés and continued immediately along past spacious beaches, carpeted with flowers of many colours, and a succession of brown and white hills. Further on, we came to a solitary and beautiful beach called Playa de los Muertos, covered with small pebbles, there were various caves in the cliffs, and a curiously shaped rock which stuck out in the middle of the pebbley beach by the water’s edge. The surrounding water was limpid and quite deep. Salvador informed me that fish abounded in the area; he also talked about the appetising fish called galán, a species which, it appeared, could only be found between Mojácar and Agua Amarga.

As we drew near to the terrifying Punta de los Muertos (Deadmen’s Point), knowing that we were about to confront an unknown and threatening situation, we had a feeling almost of vertigo. The sea was very rough and forming whirlpools around us, forcing the boat to pitch and toss. This long and aggressive promontory is really frightening and I knew that it owed its name to a long chain of shipwrecks and drownings. A rocky dinosaur of immense dimensions with a sinister head, surrounded by sandbanks covered with seagulls who greeted our arrival with a barrage of screeches and squawks. We rounded the point with difficulty, and immediately encountered a strong west wind which whipped up the blue waters...... The waves soaked us and the steep cliffs became even higher and more vertical as we continued. Leaving behind us the mountainous Mesa Roldán, we drew near to the Punta de la Media Naranja. In front of us were jagged rocks, white, salmon pink, black and red alternating and combining in sparkling contrast. Further on, the rocky hills were smaller and began to give way to shallow inlets. Suddenly, having rounded the point, we glimpsed in the distance a group of unreal low hills, houses and palm trees: the little village of Agua Amarga, set on the edge of a yellow sandy beach. Agua Amarga and its surroundings in the evening light. Like a mirage with its hazy, golden halo and all the decorative details of an oasis in the Sahara.

Rafael Lorente