西班牙拥有漫长的海岸线，为寻求裸体乐趣的人们提供了多种选择，拥有令人惊叹的裸体海滩。其中，一些海滩因其便利性和美丽而真正引人注目。
福门特拉岛 Ses Illetes 海滩
Stretching along the northern tip of Formentera like a ribbon of pearl, Playa de Ses Illetes is, for many sun‑seekers, the Platonic ideal of a Mediterranean nudist beach. Here, crystalline waters lap against dunes of pale, powdery sand so fine it seems to dissolve beneath your feet, leaving only a gentle caress (and the occasional stray sea shell) in its wake. Framed by the slender silhouette of Espalmador island across the channel, the panorama is at once intimate and expansive: small fishing boats drift lazily offshore, while distant yachts carve white arcs against the cerulean horizon. In this sunlight—bright, unfiltered, and unashamed—every nuance of the landscape is laid bare, yet it is precisely this unguarded quality that lends Ses Illetes its profound sense of liberation.
Access to Ses Illetes is straightforward but requires a modest investment of time (and patience) in high season. From the port of La Savina, a twenty‑minute ferry whisks you north; alternatively, regular bus service from Sant Francesc Xavier traverses a narrow causeway that grants sweeping views of the beach before depositing you at the southern edge of the nature reserve. The nearest parking lot, shaded by umbrella pines, fills by mid‑morning (especially in July and August); arrive before 10 a.m. if you hope to claim a spot—and if you prefer solitude, consider shoulder‑season visits in late May or early October, when balmy days still flirt with 24 °C but crowds thin appreciably. (Do note that lifeguard patrols operate from mid‑June through early September only, so outside these dates you’re swimming entirely at your own cautious discretion.)
Once you’ve staked your claim—whether it’s a sun‑baked driftwood log on the dunes or a tidy stretch of sand near the rustic wooden boardwalk—you’ll find that Ses Illetes rewards the disciplined traveler with an array of practical comforts. A handful of chiringuitos (small beach bars) dot the perimeter, serving cold beers and ensaladas payesas (the island’s signature tomato‑and‑potato salad) alongside nimble platters of fresh seafood (clams, squid, even lobster when the season is right). Be warned: plastic is frowned upon here, and the custodians of the reserve enforce strict “leave no trace” policies—so bring a reusable water bottle, pack out all packaging, and dispose of waste in marked bins at the beach’s fringes. A few clusters of rental loungers and umbrellas offer respite from the midday sun, though many purists elect to spread a simple towel and let the elements have their way.
What elevates Ses Illetes beyond mere natural beauty is its quietly communal atmosphere. Though nude bathing is unofficially tolerated along much of the shore, sessions of mixed dress code are the norm: the more effusive naturists gravitate toward the eastern end, while families and less adventurous souls cluster nearer the central boardwalk. Yet even in high season, the mood remains congenial rather than libertine, an unspoken agreement of mutual respect (and mutual distance) that ensures everyone—from the backpacker tracing a serpentine log line to the honeymooning couple shading themselves beneath a borrowed umbrella—feels secure in their own skin. Snorkelers find themselves drifting amidst finger‑length posidonia seagrass beds, the underwater visibility so clear you’ll catch glimpses of small octopi curling into their lairs (best observed in the calm hours just after dawn).
For those planning an overnight stay, the nearby village of Es Pujols offers a sprawl of modest guesthouses and mid‑range hotels within easy biking distance—so popular, in fact, that local rental agencies can sell out weeks in advance. If solitude is the aim, consider booking a room in Sant Ferran de ses Roques, where you’ll trade proximity for peace along narrow lanes lined with bougainvillea and prickly pear. Regardless of your base, be prepared for late dinners (the kitchen at most island eateries doesn’t light its first flame until at least 8 p.m.) and a relaxed pace that resists conventional schedules.
In an age when even the most secluded shores risk over‑development, Ses Illetes stands as a testament to the power of restraint. Here, the scrub‑covered dunes remain unpaved, the salt‑bleached boardwalks unadorned by neon, and the sky—by turns powder‑blue, rose‑tinted, and molten gold—unencumbered by any trace of artifice. For the dedicated naturist who seeks not merely to shed clothing but to shed the weight of expectation, Playa de Ses Illetes is more than a destination: it is a sanctuary of elemental pleasures, where the simplest act of sunbathing becomes an act of reverence.
马略卡岛 Es Trenc
If you imagine paradise distilled to its purest form—powdery dunes, crystalline waters, a landscape almost too perfect to be real—Es Trenc is as close as it gets. Stretching nearly three kilometers along Mallorca’s southeastern coast, the main beach is carnal minimalism at its most evocative: golden sand meets the Mediterranean in a flawless gradient of aquamarine to sapphire. Though the central sections bustle with families and sun‑worshippers donning the local variation of high‑fashion swimwear, wander twenty minutes eastward and you’ll find the unofficial naturist enclave—a soft‑edged sanctuary that feels wistfully removed from the world (note: there are no lifeguards or marked boundaries here, so vigilantly gauge your sun‑time and swim conditions).
A natural reserve by designation, the surrounding salt flats and scrubland sustain a quietly thrumming ecology of migratory birds and amphibians, lending the experience a raw, unfiltered charm. Mornings are your secret weapon: arrive by 8 a.m. on weekdays (or by 9 a.m. on weekends in high season) to claim a prime spot near the gentle inlet where the water warms quickly and the bottom slopes gently—ideal if you tire easily or carry gear for toddlers. (Parking fills up by 10 a.m., so consider the seasonal tractor‑shuttle from Colònia de Sant Jordi if you’re arriving later.) By late afternoon, the dynamic shifts: sun angles return toward the dunes, and a warm swell often rolls in, signaling both ripe conditions for a leisurely float and a cue to pack up before dusk.
Logistical note: there are no established beach bars or facilities in the nudist zone proper—what you pack in, you carry out. A half‑hour walk back toward the main parking lot reveals the handful of chiringuitos where you can refresh with cold horchata, freshly grilled seafood, or ensaïmada (Mallorca’s signature pastry), but expect queues in July and August. Bring ample water, shade alternatives (a low profile beach umbrella or pop‑up shelter), and snacks if you plan to linger past midday. Public restrooms are available near the central area but tend to be crowded; for a cleaner option, detour to the café at the far end of the vehicle park (around 500 meters) where a courtesy restroom is maintained for patrons.
While the beach’s flat profile makes it accessible for most, keep in mind the heat: summer temperatures regularly soar above 32 °C (90 °F), and the sun’s reflection off pale sand intensifies UV exposure. A broad‑brimmed hat, mineral sunscreen (reef‑safe formulas only), and a UV‑rated shirt for intermittent shade breaks can transform potential discomfort into pure enjoyment. Winds are typically light but can pick up unfamiliar sea breezes in the afternoon; secure any loose belongings and choose gear that won’t be whisked away during your swim. If you’re prone to dehydration, limit alcohol consumption and incorporate electrolyte‑rich beverages into your daypack.
Es Trenc’s true allure lies in its unmanicured authenticity. Unlike dedicated naturist resorts—where boundaries are rigid and etiquette codified—here the social contract is implied: respect others’ space, keep noise to a considerate hum, and leave no trace. You’ll find elderly couples who’ve returned year after year, sandal‑neat footprints of families who switch between clothed and unclothed play, and the occasional solo traveler, sketchbook in hand, capturing the interplay of light on water. Despite its popularity, the off‑grid ethos prevails; smartphones slip away into beach totes, voices lower to conversational tones, and the horizon dominates.
For the more intrepid, dawn patrol is recommended. The sunrise’s first rays ignite the saline flats in hues of rose and gold, transforming the shallow lagoons into mirror‑bright canvases. As joggers trace the shoreline, you’ll witness the moment the island awakens—fishermen untangling nets on the skyline’s edge, flamingos lifting from the wetlands in brief, graceful arcs. (Be mindful: early risers should stick within sight of the main beach, as venturing into protected bird‑sanctuary zones is prohibited and subject to fines.)
Finally, consider timing your visit for the shoulder seasons—late May or early October—when temperatures hover in the agreeable mid‑20s °C (mid‑70s °F), the parking lot enjoys ample availability, and accommodation rates in nearby Colònia de Sant Jordi fall by as much as 25 percent. The water will be slightly cooler—refreshingly so—but you’ll evade the midday crowds without sacrificing the sense of wild expanse that defines Es Trenc. Here, the meeting of sea and sand in uncluttered harmony remains unadorned, almost reverential—an experience best absorbed in silence, beneath the open sky.
塔拉戈纳埃尔托恩海滩
At the southern reaches of Catalonia’s rugged Costa Daurada, where ochre cliffs yield to crystalline waters, sits Playa El Torn—a crescent of coarse, sun-warmed sand that has quietly established itself as one of Europe’s most scenically compelling nudist beaches. From the moment you leave the narrow, winding road that threads through pine-clad slopes and terraced vineyards, there is a palpable shift in rhythm: the hush of cicadas, the tang of salt carried on a breeze, and the promise of unfiltered immersion in nature’s simplest elements. (Be advised that GPS units sometimes misroute to agricultural tracks—there is a small, clearly marked sign for El Torn off the TP-3241.)
The approach to the beach necessitates a short—but steep—descent along a dirt path, flanked by coastal rosemary and juniper. In high summer, temperatures can hover above 30 °C (86 °F), so sturdy footwear and a hat are more than mere niceties; they are essentials. At the trail’s end, you step onto a horseshoe of pale sand backed by windswept dunes and a sheer limestone bluff. Here the Mediterranean’s palettes shift from turquoise to indigo, and the water remains improbably clear, revealing grooved rocks and darting schools of wrasse beneath the surface.
Playa El Torn’s nudist tradition dates back to the 1970s, when a handful of bohemian travelers discovered the cove’s seclusion and began shedding more than just the day’s worries. Today, the beach is divided unofficially: the left flank, nearest the far point, is where naturists tend to gather, while the right allows clothing for those transitioning from the nearby resort town of L’Hospitalet de l’Infant. (A small, unobtrusive signpost marks the midway point, but etiquette and observation remain your surest guides.) Though the population swells in July and August, the shoreline seldom feels overcrowded—its arc extending over 350 meters, with ample space for towels, umbrellas, or the occasional daytime hammock strung between tamarisk trees.
For the practical traveler, note that there are no facilities directly on the sand—no lifeguards, no cafes, no permanent toilets. A humble kiosk, open late May through early September, offers chilled water, cold sandwiches, and basic groceries; beyond that, you must plan ahead. A public restroom sits a five-minute walk uphill at the parking area, and during peak season the small lot can fill by midday. (Pro tip: arrive before 10 a.m. or after 4 p.m. to secure a spot, or consider the bus from L’Hospitalet de l’Infant, which stops at the trailhead twice an hour.)
Once you’ve claimed your patch of sand—ideally beneath a gnarled tamarisk, whose branches cast variegated shade—you’ll find that the cove rewards lingering. The water temperature averages 22 °C (72 °F) in midsummer, cool enough to feel invigorating without being bracing. The seabed slopes gently, making the first few meters ankle-deep before dropping off into deeper blue realms perfect for snorkeling. Coral-like rock formations near the eastern promontory teem with marine life: tiny octopi, translucent sea cucumbers, and the occasional barred goby. It is a singular privilege to float here unclothed, the human form rendered equal by water’s buoyancy and the sun’s impartial warmth.
But Playa El Torn is not a place for laissez-faire abandon alone; the environment is both delicate and bountiful. The dunes that cradle the sand are stabilized by indigenous grasses, and trampling can cause irreversible erosion. As a strict leave-no-trace site, visitors are asked to pack out all waste, including organic material such as fruit peels. Sunscreens formulated without oxybenzone are recommended to prevent chemical runoff from harming local seagrass meadows. (You can purchase biodegradable options at the kiosk, a small but meaningful gesture toward stewardship.)
Late afternoon brings a different cast of light: the limestone cliff glows honeyed gold, shadows lengthen across undulating sand ripples, and the sea adopts a molten sheen. It is an ideal time for photography—though discretion is paramount. Always ask before pointing a lens at fellow beachgoers, respecting the privacy implicit in a naturist setting. The cove’s geometry also creates a natural amphitheater for sound: the soft susurrus of waves, the distant drone of a boat’s outboard engine, the occasional call of a blue rock thrush overhead.
For those who wish to extend their exploration, a footpath winds around the bluff toward the Cala la Roca Plana, another clothing-optional cove half a kilometer east. It offers a more intimate experience but requires cautious footing over slippery shale. Alternatively, after dusk, L’Hospitalet de l’Infant—a ten-minute drive north—welcomes with fresh seafood tapas, local white wines flavored by the nearby Siurana vineyards, and an unpretentious ambience ideal for recounting the day’s revelations.
At the end of a visit to Playa El Torn, one carries away more than a tan line: there is a revived sense of elemental freedom, a reminder that in sun, sand, and sea, paring back artifice can yield some of travel’s most profound connections. Whether you come to swim, to study the underwater topography, or simply to lie in the sun without barrier or boundary, the beach delivers a quietly transformative experience. (And should you find yourself reluctant to return fully clothed, at least you know this corner of Catalonia will welcome you back in the same unclad spirit.)