Our return to Calella came in October on our way back to Barcelona. We’d had a crazy drive across the middle of Spain, taking in Lake Caspe, the Rio Ebro, Mequinenza and Montserrat along the way.
We needed some respite and the little beach just south Calella offered us exactly that. We had to stock up on food first but the huge Carrefour just north of Calella gave us everything we needed.
With said supplies in the hold we settled into our temporary home, set the chairs and table up then got down to the terribly enjoyable task of writing.
For me, there is nothing more satisfying than pouring my ideas onto the pages of a book, especially when I’m sat on a beach with the sun watching over me as the gentle sound of the sea washing up on the coarse grain sand soothes me like a lullaby sung by mother nature.
There were plenty of people around that day but I was in a bubble. The words were flowing and the mental images so clear that I could describe every tiny detail in a massive transcript. Not that I did. Let’s keep it simple.
Calella is one of those special places. It was our first ever wild camp spot together after leaving Sitges so coming back to a familiar place added an extra dimension of comfort. Thankfully this time we weren’t privy to ‘Russian man’ and his large breasted daughter who he avidly photographed in a number of questionable poses. Her, not him. He just stood up straight.
I will return to Calella again to enjoy the sanctity of the beach and taste another different season in one of my favourite places.
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