Diving headfirst into Altea

Leaving Huercál-Overa as the sun made its way to the top of the sky, it was a stifling 100 degrees. And, this is only June! Heading back toward the Mediterranean provided incremental relief as each mile passed, dropping a total of 10 degrees in 2 hours. Let me be clear, 90 degrees isn't picnic-in-the-park weather but a slight sea breeze made it manageable as we unpacked our things from the car for the 21st time (not an exaggeration) in almost 3 months. Despite our enjoyment of farm life, there is nothing more alluring than standing on your balcony looking over a wide strip of blue water. It was good to be back and to smell the salt air again.

Altea is a white village built high above the sea, promising its residents a protective hilltop and a safe water source. Throughout history, Iberians, Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, Moors, and Romans called this place home and each left traces of their culture in the many corners of this beautiful town. Considered the “Cultural Capital” of the Valencia province, Altea has established a name for itself in the arts, as musicians and artists flocked here in the 1920s. The residents of this quaint pueblo pride themselves on their Spanish authenticity. By contrast, the nearby town of Benidorm, whose tall stacks of high-rises are incongruous with the landscape, seems to be gunning for the Mediterranean equivalent of Dubai. From the highway, we passed Benidorm, picked our jaws off the car floor, and happily headed somewhere a bit quieter.

Benidorm Photo Credit: Dimitry Anikin

The citizens of Altea surely must have some mountain goat in their blood as they climb the labyrinthine streets. With innumerable twisting and turning staircases that lead down from the old section to the water, if you tripped on the first step, you might find a much quicker, albeit disastrous, way to the pebbly beach below. One misstep might send you rolling like a stone. Problem is; once you've made it to the beach, it's a heart pounding climb back up.

Altea's skyline is famously known for its prominent blue and white glazed ceramic tile dome that glints from the top of Nuestra Señora del Consuelo Church. The blue represents the Mediterranean while the white designs bring to mind the segmented pieces of an orange, something this region is famed for.

Upon our arrival, we had nothing planned during our short 3-day stint in Altea. As far as we'd gotten was, "Maybe we should do something on the water?" So, on the first night, I set to work, trying to find an activity or two when I noticed a short comment on a thread from the Algar Waterfall site. It read, "And while you're there, a great place to visit is the Dino Park." Excuse me? What? Have you met my son Gaelan who eats, lives, and breathes dinosaurs? I dug a little further and found an enormous Dinosaur park not 25 minutes from Altea with life-sized sculptures in a large cactus garden. Excuse me? What? Have you met my son Liam who obsesses over, draws, and propagates his own succulents and cacti? This excursion was tailor-made for us.

We told the kids we'd need to get them up early to get to the Dino Park and cactus garden before it opened at 10:00 am. However, there was no need to creep into their room and gently disturb their slumber. At 8:30 am, in their excitement, all 4 were bright-eyed and ready to go. We arrived at 9:58 am and I had a "Wally World" moment. There was not one car in the parking lot and I thought, "Oh my God, I didn't research the hours and it's closed." Fortunately, the ticket booth slid open, letting out a puff of cool breeze from the air-conditioner. It was already hot and we'd just had breakfast. We paid our entrance fee and had the entire place to ourselves for two hours. This sprawling Jurassic complex has meandering paths, shaded spots, and every shape and size cactus the imagination could muster as we looked out towards the mountains. And, in the midst of this wildly beautiful and elegant cactus garden were strategically placed, life-sized 3D robotic dinosaurs with eerie sounds piped through the trees. We casually wandered the grounds, stopping to inspect a particularly interesting cactus or to watch the realistic movements of a Spinosaurus while a T-rex roared in the distance. While Onora spent much of her time wide-eyed and on high alert for some dinosaur ambush, Liam used his time to investigate the plant species, occasionally asking me to take a picture of the signage for his own cacti knowledge.

In the blooming heat, we had the closest thing we could get to a shower in the misting machine while we waited for the 3D theatre to open for its 11:30 showing. Donning our fashionista 3D glasses, we soared in the air with Pterodactyls, were bludgeoned by falling rocks, jump-scared by an angry T-Rex, and trampled by a herd of Triceratops while following the story of a baby dinosaur trying to find his lost family. It was exhausting and by the end of the 10-minute film, I had to massage my hand back to life because Onora spent the whole time white-knuckling it.

The mister was sufficient for about 10 minutes and then the heat started to settle in again. Personally, I was slick with sweat and the thought of an upcoming waterfall experience was enough to make me salivate. Only 3 miles from the Dino Park, we parked the car, changed into bathing suits, and walked up a hill of steaming asphalt to the entrance of Algar Falls. From the moment we paid our entrance ticket at the water's edge, the temperature dropped significantly and allowed me to breathe a little easier. What's so unique about this place is the clarity and color of the water. It's virtually transparent and a blue-green not seen in freshwater streams, at least not at home.

Rushing water pours from large waterfalls and filters into burbling small pools for swimming. And all of this is perfectly framed by cotton-candy-pink flowering trees. It is a dream and the only thing that rouses you from it is the ice cold water that numbs your feet (and any other body part) upon contact. Yet, we persevered, a little breathlessly, and made it under the falls where you grab a rope and hold on for dear life. After a thorough dousing, I yelled to Liam and Quinn over the sound of the falls, "Hold on to the rope while I get my camera." As I scrambled, barefoot, ouch-ing and cringing my way along the rocky bottom, I finally made it to my camera to get a snapshot. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, they were inundated with the needling pressure of the falls and were more than relieved when I finally gave the thumbs up that I'd gotten the shot. Later in the day, we returned to our car and stopped at a restaurant that served pizza and smoothies. It was just what we needed after a hot day and the kids commented repeatedly on the perfection of this meal almost more than any other in our 3 months stay. It's all about timing.

On our second day in Altea, we opted for an evening catamaran cruise around Altea Bay with a swimming stop in a nearby cove. Now, long ago, when I imagined the Mediterranean, I envisioned an entire sea the temperature of lukewarm bath water. However, I don't know about you, but I don't take 65-degree baths. Based on our experience these last 3 months, I was unequivocally wrong about the Mediterranean. So, when we launched the boat from the Altea port in the midst of a heat wave, I was weighing the risk versus the reward of being stuck on a hot boat or being frozen in a deep sea.

We motored out for a view of the famous blue-domed Altea skyline before turning East toward the Parc Natural de la Serra Gelada. Kip asked the captain, "How much time do we have to swim?" The captain replied, "One hour and 15 minutes." Yikes. That's a long time to spend numb! Liam took the first plunge from the deck of the boat and though he assured us "Truly, really, I promise, it's warm," we didn't believe him until we jumped in ourselves. Unbelievable! Just as I imagined long ago. Suddenly the thought of a 1 hour and 15 minutes swim was possibly too short!

The sea, a deep shade of blue-green, was dazzlingly clear and *gulp* deep. It took my overactive imagination a few minutes to shut off all of the stories I am inclined to tell myself about what was lurking below the surface. After a couple of deep breaths, and a wry look from Kip that said, "Nothing is going to eat you," I found peace and stayed in the moment. While music played on the boat speakers, we took turns jumping or diving, only to climb aboard and do it all over again. In between jumps, we were content to lay on our backs in the slow, rolling waves. The salty soup was buoyant enough to keep me afloat with very little effort, hair swishing around me like seaweed. I haven't felt like a mermaid since I was Onora's age but I felt it then.

The only traffic that passed by our swimming cove was the occasional fishing boat hauling in the catch of the day while a flock of ravenous seagulls encircled it like a halo. Most likely our boat scared away the rest of the fish. With our own jumping and splashing, laughter coming from the small bachelorette party aboard, and the American music being carried across the water, it made for a festive atmosphere. As One by U2 came on, I laid my head back, floating, and smiled.

Arriving back in port the kids unanimously decided that we need more boats in our life. While I'm happy to oblige, it only means that there needs to be more Dramamine in mine. It seems I'm the only one of the 6 to feel the effects of a rocking boat and I'm thrilled about that.

With the heatwave continuing the next day, rather than subject ourselves to the 98-degree temperature, we took time to leisurely read, play cards, and “hide and shriek” in the apartment. We had to teach Onora proper scaring technique because most of the time she’d either pop out too early or scream ”Boo!” and scare herself more than her seeker. That afternoon, Kip and I were also able to enjoy spending two hours talking with Liam in the shade of the balcony about his experiences, the impact of this trip, and what he wants to get out of life. I wouldn't trade those hours together for any of the experiences we've had on this trip.

On our final evening, like vampires shielding ourselves from the scorching sun, we only went out at night to see the town lit up. Past diners and shoppers, violinists, caricaturists, and people just out for a stroll in their going-out attire, the real vibe of Altea definitely comes out at night. Adiós, Altea! Gracias por el agua cálido. Nos vemos y buena suerte!

Off to Valencia! Our last stop in Spain before a short trip to Rome and then home.