Salty Breezes and Golden Sands: A Walk Across Alicante Beach

Here laughter mixes with crashing surf. The sunshine moves across the lake in that distinctive Mediterranean glitter. Walking down Alicante Beach, you soon forget the concerns that followed you all week—those get carried away, maybe consumed by crabs, someplace close to the tideline.

Early morning, soon after daybreak, is the greatest time known to locals. Behind the palm trees, the coffee shops hum; the sand still has midnight cool, birds strutting along the shore searching for breakfast leftovers. One gent sells churros on the footbridge from a ragged hat. He gave one quick wink when I dropped my money. With hands full of chocolate dipping sauce, I could see the whole Playa del Postiguet stretch—a moving patchwork of children with buckets, exercise buffs lunging, couples sheltering in the shadow of blue umbrellas.

As you approach the surf, your toes dip and cold foaming water laps ankles. From seaside bars, the air smells sharp—a mix of salt, sunscreen, and grilled sardines. Someone is buried up to their neck in sand every few meters, grinning as though it were high art. You hear brief exchanges about fútbol, politics, a grandmother’s contagious giggle.

Look to the right; a castle commands the skyline, elevated like it has been witnessed decades of beachgoers stroll under. The way history peeks into your sunbathing time here is almost funny. Paddleboards abound under the fort, balancing little children and elderly people alike, with the occasional splashy fall drawing applause from those securely beached.

The town hums with bustle at midday. Vendors call out ice slushies in neon colors. Somewhere a radio bursts with pop. Teenagers in a gang attempt and fail to create the highest sandcast. From his tower like a monarch of holiday mayhem, the lifeguard, world-weary and bronzed, surveys it all.

Duck for cover under a palm or slide away for a meal of arroz a banda at one of the little cafés around the seafront if the sand gets too hot. The waiters move with the simple speed that suggests friendliness as well as the relaxed tempo of beach life.

Odd but people seem to be happier here. Beachgoers transform into thinkers advocating ideas about pleasure, sun, and the better benefits of saltwater above any kind of spa treatment. Paddling a little, floating, hiding from deadlines and stress gives one freedom.

As afternoon disappears, the sky occasionally displays a cheeky color show featuring pinks, oranges, purples. The sea reflects it back to me. Already chatting about next year, towels get shaken, chairs stack up, and sunburned visitors hobble off. This part of Alicante shore is addictive. Like any good secret, it’s one you want to keep just for yourself even though you should share.