🌍 Travel: Las Terrenas Beaches — The Empty Ones Nobody's Sitting On
A week and a half into ecolodge life between El Limon and Las Terrenas, I got cabin fever, stopped trusting the pool, and went to the beach alone. What I found when I walked past the resort crowds changed how I see Caribbean tourism entirely
Playa Las Terrenas at sunset. July 2022. Last time on these beaches.
Jovan and I had been spoiled at La Barbacoa for a week and a half — tucked between El Limon and Las Terrenas, ecolodge life, ocean breeze, easy rhythm. And then I read an article about a brain-eating amoeba found in lakes in the US. Far from here, yes. But the article mentioned unclean pools, and I was concerned. Exactly what the media's entire agenda is, right? But you can't be too careful sometimes- I thought. So I stopped doing my laps.
That left me with a gym which I can only tolerate for so long, and a 15-year-old who had zero interest in walking in the heat until the guagua — that's the local bus — came to take us to the beach.
I decided to go by myself.
I Really, Really Dislike Routine
I couldn't spend the same evening in the same restaurant again and even during vacation routine it makes me squirm. That feeling — the one where you know exactly what comes next before anything has happened — is the thing I left Florida to escape. So I grabbed my towel and went.
I was still scarred from the severe face burn I got in Jamaica just the April before, so I was staying out of the sun. I found a spot under a palm tree near the water — one Jovan and I had noticed on a previous visit but other people had been sitting in. I lay there, alone, on the towel, and listened to the wind rolling across the water. This is the windsurfing area of Las Terrenas. The wind has opinions. I could have fallen asleep there if I hadn't been watching the time.
The guagua had dropped me off at Playa Calolima — small beach, good number of locals, a lovely little spot. I didn't feel like going to Playa Anclon alone (it's a cove, I'd have to find it), so I walked west toward Playa Punta Poppy instead.
The Empty Beaches Right Next to the Crowded One
To get from Playa Calolima to Playa Punta Poppy I had to walk through all the resorts. The first quarter mile was completely isolated — empty beach, empty resorts, possibly private houses, nobody around.
And then, around the corner: hundreds of people. Lounge chairs lined up on the sand. Servers walking between them taking drink orders. Lots of guests arranged under umbrellas like a magazine shoot.
I laughed to myself.
To the left of them: empty beach. Same turquoise water. Same sand. Nobody sitting on it.
To the right of them: also empty beach. Same turquoise water. Same sand. Nobody sitting on it.
I've never understood vacationing in resorts. I might as well stay in the states if I'm going to sit in a resort — it's not the same experience as staying with locals through Airbnbs or small villas close to town like I did this trip. They had servers. They had catering. And sixty feet away in either direction, the same ocean was completely free of charge and completely empty.
I walked on the beautiful empty sand for half an hour. I called my friend on the phone. It was close to dinner time — I needed to eat and bring something back for Jovan, whose only other option was eating alone at the Eco Lodge restaurant.
Cafecito Del Mar — Week Three Discovery
I had driven past Cafecito Del Mar so many times. I only actually noticed it in the third week we were here.
It's easy to miss from the road — tucked in between the restaurants lining the main stretch, a cute little spot right on the sand next to where public Playa Las Terrenas begins. Chairs, tables closest to the water, locals and foreigners mixed. Both. Together. That's Las Terrenas.
I got a table as close to the water as I could, ordered dinner for me and Jovan, and a beer. The food was delicious. The music was something you would hear at a white tablecloth restaurant in the US — pleasant, soothing, completely unexpected for a barefoot beach spot. The street side was quiet for most of my time there. As it got darker the motoconchos — scooters — and foot traffic picked up, and the whole evening shifted into its nighttime version.
I got to walk there during sunset. It was amazingly beautiful. I enjoyed it knowing it was my last time on these beaches. We were leaving in two days. One tour left for the next day — a last organized adventure — and then we were done with Las Terrenas.
The Little Park Nobody Told Me About
Before you hit the popular, crowded section of Playa Las Terrenas — the one with the beach chairs and the organized chaos — there's a small park area that most people drive right past.
I saw a mother with her two daughters in school uniforms sitting together on the sand. What a cool after-school hangout. A man was playing with his dog at the shore. A couple of joggers passed. Nobody was performing. Nobody was on vacation. They were just there because it's beautiful and it's theirs.
Easy to miss. Same as Cafecito Del Mar. Both of them invisible from the road if you don't already know to look.
Practical Notes — Getting Around Las Terrenas
The guagua runs frequently during the day and stops around 7:30 to 8pm — don't quote me on that exactly, but plan accordingly. The ride from the ecolodge area into town runs 50 to 75 Dominican pesos.
My motoconcho home that night — the ecolodge is far, it was dark, the guagua had long stopped — cost me 1,000 Dominican pesos. That's $18.47 at current rates. Far, late at night: you pay for the convenience.
It was a 3pm to 10pm afternoon that turned into an evening. One of the best solo outings of the whole month.
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