Some places become famous because they are spectacular. Others become unforgettable because they are authentic. Procida belongs to the second group. The smallest island in the Bay of Napoli is often overshadowed by its glamorous neighbours, Capri and Ischia. Yet those who take the short ferry ride soon discover that Procida offers something increasingly rare in today's world: the feelingof aplace that still belongs to its people.
There are no grand boulevards lined with luxury boutiques. No crowds searching for the perfect postcard. Instead, there are narrow streets where neighbours still greet each other by name, fishing boats gently rocking in colourful harbours and laundry hanging between pastel-painted houses exactly as it has for generations.
Procida is not trying to impress visitors. It simply invites them to slow down. The island has been inhabited since Greek times, but its strategic position made it an important settlement throughout the Roman period and the Middle Ages. Over the centuries, however, its inhabitants learned that life at sea brought not only prosperity but also danger.
Pirate raids were once a constant threat. To protect themselves, entire communities built their homes high above the coast in what is now TerraMurata, the oldest part of the island. Surrounded by defensive walls and crowned by the imposing Abbazia di San Michele Arcangelo, it still offers one of the finest panoramic views of the Bay of Napoli.
Walking through Terra Murata feels like travelling back in time. Stone archways, narrow alleyways and quiet courtyards preserve centuries of island history. Below the fortified hill lies perhaps the most photographed corner of Procida: MarinaCorricella. Its houses seem almost unreal. Pink. Yellow. Blue. Orange. Green. The colours were not chosen for tourists or photographers.
Local tradition suggests they helped fishermen recognise their homes from the sea as they returned after long days of fishing. Whether entirely true or partly legend, the result is one of the Mediterranean's most enchanting waterfronts. Unlike many famous coastal villages, Corricella has remained remarkably peaceful. Cars are almost absent. The harbour belongs to fishing boats, cafés and conversations. It is a place where time seems to move at the rhythm of the tides.
Cinema also discovered Procida's quiet beauty. The island served as the setting for several films, including Il Postino (The Postman), whose gentle story perfectly captures the atmosphere that still defines the island today. Yet Procida's identity extends beyond beautiful scenery. For centuries, the sea shaped almost every family.
Many islanders became sailors in the Italian merchant navy, spending months -or even years- crossing the world's oceans before returning home. This maritime tradition created a community whose horizon was never limited by the coastline. Perhaps that explains the island's unique character. Small in size. Immense in spirit. In 2022, Procida was named Italian Capital of Culture, a recognition that celebrated not monuments or museums alone, but an entire way of life. The award acknowledged something visitors had understood long before. Culture is not only found in great works of art.
Sometimes it lives in everyday gestures, in stories passed from one generation to the next, in colourful harbours where fishermen still mend their nets beneath the Mediterranean sun. That is the real treasure of Procida. It is not an island that asks to be admired. It is an island that quietly teaches us that beauty often lies in simplicity, authenticity and community.
Leaving Procida by ferry, one last glance reveals the pastel houses slowly fading into the horizon. It is then that many visitors realise something unexpected. They have not simply visited another island in the Bay of Napoli. They have discovered its soul.
Senti. Non mi va di vedere Procida mentre s'allontana, e si confonde, diventa come una cosa grigia... Preferisco fingere che non sia esistita. Listen. I don't feel like watching Procida as it moves away, and blurs, becoming like something gray... I prefer to pretend it never existed.
There are places where history lies beneath our feet. In Baia, history lies beneath the sea. Hidden along the coast of the Campi Flegrei (Phlegraean Fields), just a few kilometres from Pozzuoli, Baia was once the most luxurious seaside resort in the entire Roman Empire. Senators, generals and emperors escaped the noise of Rome to spend their days surrounded by thermal springs, magnificent villas and breathtaking views across the Bay of Napoli.
If ancient Rome had a Riviera, this was it. Julius Caesar visited. Cicero owned a villa nearby. Emperors including Nero, Hadrian and Septimius Severus all spent time here. Luxury was not simply part of Baia.Luxury was the reason Baia existed.
The volcanic activity beneath Campi Flegrei had created countless hot springs, allowing the Romans to build some of the most sophisticated thermal baths of the ancient world. Vast domes covered enormous bathing halls, while engineers channelled naturally heated water through an intricate network of pools and steam rooms.
The so-called Tempio di Mercurio, Tempio di Venere, and Tempio di Diana are not temples at all. They are the surviving domed halls of an immense Roman bathing complex, remarkable examples of engineering that anticipated architectural techniques later perfected in monuments such as the Pantheon.
Even today, their soaring brick domes inspire admiration. Yet the greatest wonder of Baia cannot be seen from land. It lies beneath the waves. Over many centuries, the same phenomenon that continues to shape the Campi Flegrei -bradyseism- slowly caused large parts of the ancient city to sink below sea level. Streets, villas, mosaics, statues and harbours gradually disappeared beneath the Bay of Napoli, not because of a catastrophic disaster, but through the almost imperceptible movement of the Earth's crust. The sea became an unexpected guardian. Instead of destroying Baia, it preserved it.
Today,the Parco Archeologico Sommerso Di Baia is one of the world's most extraordinary archaeological sites. Divers can swim along ancient Roman roads, admire colourful mosaic floors, pass elegant marble columns and encounter statues that appear to emerge from the blue Mediterranean water.
Few museums allow visitors to float above two thousand years of history. For those who do not dive, glass-bottom boats reveal a remarkable underwater landscape where archaeology and marine life coexist in perfect harmony. Fish now weave through rooms that once echoed with the conversations of Roman senators. Octopuses shelter among marble ruins. Sea grass gently covers ancient mosaics. Nature has quietly reclaimed an imperial city. Baia was famous not only for its beauty but also for its reputation.
Ancient writers often described it as a place of extravagant parties, political intrigue and endless indulgence. The poet Sextus Propertius even warned respectable citizens to stay away, while the philosopher Seneca criticised the excesses that had become synonymous with the town. Whether entirely deserved or slightly exaggerated, Baia became the Roman symbol of luxury without limits. And yet, walking through its ruins today, another thought emerges. Power fades. Empires disappear. Nature remains. Perhaps that is what makes Baia so extraordinary. It is not simply an archaeological site. It is the meeting point of three great forces that have shaped the history of Campania: volcanicgeology, Roman civilisation and the Mediterranean Sea. Together, they created a place unlike any other on Earth.
Baia reminds us that history is not always buried underground. Sometimes... it sleeps beneath the waves.
The Grandma was fortunate enough to visit the underwater ruins of Baia before they became the organised archaeological park we know today. As a student at the University of Napoli Federico II, she had the rare privilege of diving among villas, statues and mosaics that had rested beneath the sea for centuries. Back then, visitors were even allowed to gently touch some of the sculptures -a privilege that would rightly be unthinkable today. It was one of those experiences that forever changes the way you understand history.
What impressed her most was not simply that an ancient Roman city had sunk beneath the sea, but that it still felt alive. Fish swam through rooms where senators once walked. Sunlight danced across mosaics laid almost two thousand years ago. Time itself seemed suspended beneath the Mediterranean.
In the 1990s, Campania struggled to preserve such an immensearchaeological heritage. Resources were limited, and much of Italy's cultural attention -and funding- naturally focused on Rome. Today, thanks to European investment, scientific research, growing tourism and a renewed appreciation of Napoli as one of Europe's great cultural capitals rather than merely a city of old stereotypes, many of these extraordinary sites are finally receiving the care they deserve.
The task, however, is almost impossible in the best sense of the word. Campania possesses so much history that archaeologists often joke that every excavation uncovers another chapter of the ancient world.
There are places where nature whispers. There are others where it shouts. The Solfatara of Pozzuoli, just west of Napoli,doessomething in between. It breathes.
My first visit remains one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. I had seen volcanoes before, but nothing prepared me for a landscape where the ground was warm beneath my feet, clouds of steam drifted continuously from the earth, and the unmistakable smell of sulphur filled the air. It felt as if the planet itself were alive.
The Solfatara is one of the best-known craters within the CampiFlegrei (Phlegraean Fields), a vast volcanic caldera that has shaped the landscape of Campania for tens of thousands of years. Although the crater has not produced a magmatic eruption since 1198, it remains an active volcanic system.
The volcano has never truly fallen asleep. Instead of lava, it releases heat. Instead of ash, it exhales gases. The most famous feature of the crater is the Bocca Grande, a powerful fumarole where steam rich in water vapour, carbon dioxide and sulphur gases escapes continuously from deep underground. Temperatures can exceed 150°C (300°F), reminding every visitor that molten rock still lies far below the surface.
The white and yellow colours covering much of the crater are not paint or dust. They are minerals created by volcanic gases reacting with the surrounding rocks. Sulphur crystals form delicate golden deposits, while acidic vapours slowly alter the volcanic soil, creating a landscape that appears almost extraterrestrial.
Standing there, it is easy to understand why ancient people believed this was one of the entrances to the Underworld.
The Greeks associated these lands with the realm of Hades, while the Romans built temples and thermal baths nearby, convinced that the volcanic springs possessed remarkable healing properties.
For centuries, travellers undertaking the Grand Tour considered the Solfatara an essential destination. Artists, natural philosophers and early geologists came here to witness one of the few places in Europe where the hidden forces shaping our planet could be observed so directly.
Few natural laboratories have inspired so much curiosity. Yet the Solfatara is far more than a geological wonder. It is one visible expression of the enormous volcanic engine beneath the Phlegraean Fields. The same heat that produces the fumaroles also drives the phenomenon of bradyseism, causing the ground around Pozzuoli to rise and fall over decades.
Here, geology is not something that happened millions of years ago. It is happening now. One detail has always stayed with me. When I first visited the Solfatara, I could hardly believe there was a campsite beside an activevolcano. Coming from Barcelona, it seemed almost surreal. Families were enjoying their holidays only a short distance from steaming fumaroles and sulphur vents. Only in Naples.
The Neapolitans have a remarkable relationship with nature. Livingbetween Mount Vesuvius and the Phlegraean Fields has taught generations that uncertainty is simply part of life. Rather than allowing that uncertainty to dominate them, they have embraced life with extraordinary passion, humour and resilience. Perhaps nowhere else could a campsite beside an active volcano have felt so perfectly normal.
Today, however, the Solfatara is silent in a different way. Following the tragic accident in 2017, when three members of the same family lost their lives after leaving the designated paths, the crater was closed to visitors. The event was a painful reminder that the landscape, beautiful as it is, remains an activevolcanic environment deserving both admiration and respect.
The fumaroles continue to rise. The gases continue to escape. The Earth continues to breathe. And although we may no longer walk across the crater, the Solfatara remains one of the most extraordinary windows into the living heart of our planet. Perhaps that is its greatest lesson. Volcanoes are not only mountains that erupt. Sometimes they simply remind us, quietly and continuously, that the Earth beneath our feet is still alive.
The Solfatara does not frighten because it erupts. It fascinates because it reminds us that our planet is still breathing.
Today, The Grandma wants to talk about the bradyseism, a phenomenon that it can be lived in the Campi Flegrei. Mostpeople think earthquakes happen suddenly. The ground shakes. Buildings tremble. Then everything becomes still again.
The Campi Flegrei (Phlegraean Fields), west of Naples, tell a very different story. Here, the Earth doesn't just shake -it breathes. This extraordinary phenomenon is known as bradyseism, from the Greek words bradys (slow) and seismos (movement or earthquake). Unlike the violent motion we normally associate with earthquakes, bradyseismis the gradual uplift or subsidence of the ground, sometimes over years or even decades.
Imagine standing on the shore and returning years later to discover that the land beneath your feet has risen several metres -or sunk beneath the sea. That is exactly what has happened repeatedly in Campi Flegrei throughout history.
The explanation lies deep below the surface. Beneath the caldera, magma and hot volcanic fluids slowly move through a complex network of fractures. As pressure increases, the ground gently swells upward. When the pressure decreases, the land gradually sinks again. The process is usually measured in centimetres each year, but over time the changes become astonishing.
Few places on Earth provide clearer evidence of this than the Temple of Serapis in Pozzuoli. Despite its name, it was not a temple but a Romanmarketplace built nearly two thousand years ago. Three marble columns have become world-famous because they preserve tiny holes made by marine molluscs. These shellfish can only survive underwater, meaning the columns must once have stood beneath the sea before rising again into the open air. Those small holes are far more than marks left by nature.
They are a geological diary written over centuries. No written chronicle could describe the slow movement of the Earth's crust with such remarkable precision. Bradyseism is not merely a curiosity from the past. It is still happening today.
Since the early 2000s, and particularly since 2018, Pozzuoli has experienced continuous uplift accompanied by thousands of small earthquakes. In some periods, the ground has risen by more than one metre within just a few years. Scientists carefully monitor every centimetre using satellites, GPS stations and seismic networks, making Campi Flegrei one of the most intensively observed volcanic regions in the world. For local residents, however, bradyseism is not simply a scientific concept. It is part of everyday life.
Doors suddenly become difficult to close because buildings have shifted by a few millimetres. New cracks appear in walls. The harbour must occasionally be adapted as the coastline slowly changes. Every small earthquake reminds people that the ground beneath them is alive. And yet, life continues. Children go to school. Fishermen leave the harbour before dawn. Families gather for dinner overlooking the Bay of Napoli. Perhaps that is what makes Campi Flegrei so fascinating. Here, geology is not hidden beneath mountains or buried in textbooks. It unfolds beneath people's homes, beneath Roman ruins, beneath cafés and narrow streets.
The Earth is constantly moving -but so slowly that an entire generation may barely notice it. Bradyseism reminds us that not all geological change is sudden or catastrophic. Sometimes the planet whispers instead of shouting. And nowhere does it whisper more eloquently than in the Campi Flegrei.
Campi Flegrei is one of the few places on Earth where you can almost feel the planet breathing beneath your feet.
We cannot stop natural disasters but we can arm ourselves with knowledge: so many lives wouldn't have to be lost if there was enough disaster preparedness.
With a significant earthquake recently reported today in Campi Flegrei, Napoli, The Grandma has been reminiscing about the years she lived in this extraordinary and captivating region while studying at the University of Federico II.
A piece of TheGrandma's heartremainsin this city (Napoli) and region (Campania) -a place that shares a past history with Catalunya,making walking through its city streets feel just as familiar as strolling through Catalan towns.
When The Grandma first visited the Solfatara, she could hardly believe there was a campsite beside an active volcanic
crater. To her, it seemed unthinkable. To the Neapolitans, it simply felt
like another beautiful place to spend a weekend. That, perhaps, says
more about Napoli than any history book ever could. Living between
Vesuvius and Campi Flegrei has taught generations that life is
unpredictable. Their answer has never been fear, but an extraordinary
determination to live every single day with passion.
Pozzuoli is a city near Naples, best known as the hometown of Sophia Loren -that iconic Neapolitan and global legend- but also as one of the cities within the Campi Flegrei area. This region, characterized by extraordinary volcanic and seismic activity, presents a genuine challenge for geologists, volcanologists, and oceanographers alike, while also offering a fascinating destination for lovers of culture and history.
The earthquake of today, July 31, 2026 (M4.7), once again has reminded the world that the Campi Flegrei remain one of the most closely monitored volcanic calderas on the planet. The quake was one of the most intense recorded in the area in decades, causing minor damage, service disruptions, and numerous aftershocks, but it also refocused attention on the phenomenon of bradyseism,which has been slowly raising the ground level in Pozzuoli for years.
There are places that leave a mark on your memory for their beauty. Others do so because they make you feel how small we really are. The Campi Flegrei (Phlegraean Fields), west of Napoli, somehow manage to do both at once.
The Grandma lived there for a while during the 1990s while studying in Napoli.Long before she knew anything about volcanic calderas or bradyseism, she simply fell in love with the place. Pozzuoli, Baia, Bacoli... every corner seemed to tell a story. Roman ruins emerged from the sea, fishermen repaired their nets in the harbour, families filled the waterfront until late at night, and life unfolded with an intensity that was impossible not to admire.
Then, on 31 July 2026, a magnitude 4.7 earthquake struck the area, reminding everyone that beneath this beautiful landscape lies one of the most fascinating -and closely monitored- volcanic systems on Earth.
Unlike Mount Vesuvius, which rises dramatically above the Bay of Naples, the Campi Flegrei are not a single volcano. They are a vast volcanic caldera, around 12–15 kilometres wide, formed by enormous eruptions tens of thousands of years ago. More than twenty craters, fumaroles, hot springs and volcanic cones are scattered across the region, many of them hidden beneath modern towns.
Walking through Pozzuoli, you are actually walking inside an active volcano. One of the most extraordinary features of Campi Flegrei is a phenomenon known as bradyseism -the slow rise and fall of the ground caused by pressure changes beneath the surface. Entire neighbourhoods have gradually lifted by several metres over the centuries before sinking again.
Perhaps nowhere illustrates this better than the Temple of Serapis in Pozzuoli.Despite its name, it was actually an ancient Roman marketplace. The marble columns still bear the unmistakable holes left by marine molluscs that once lived on them when the building stood below sea level. Those tiny shells tell an astonishing geological story: the land itself has repeatedly risen and fallen through history.
The volcanic activity beneath Campi Flegrei has intensified over recent years. Since 2018, scientists have observed increasing ground uplift together with more frequent earthquakes. Continuous monitoring by Italian authorities has become essential, not because an eruption is considered imminent, but because this restless volcanic system is constantly changing.
Yet what we remember most is not the volcano. It is the people. Neapolitans have a remarkable relationship with uncertainty. Living between Vesuvius and Campi Flegrei means accepting that nature cannot be controlled. Perhaps that is why life is embraced with such passion.
Coming from Catalunya, where we often value restraint and discretion, we found the contrast almost overwhelming. In Napoli everything seems larger than life. Conversations become performances. Gestures replace punctuation. Family lunches turn into celebrations. Even a simple disagreement can sound like an opera scene to an outsider. They laugh loudly. They argue passionately. They celebrate everything. And somehow, despite living above one of Europe's most active volcanic systems, they possess an extraordinary ability toenjoy the present.
It would be easy to describe Campi Flegrei as a dangerous place. It is more accurate to describe it as a living landscape -one where geology, history and humanity have coexisted for thousands of years.
Roman emperors built luxurious villas in nearby Baia, attracted by its thermal waters. Greek settlers founded colonies along these shores.Ancient Romans believed this was the entrance to the Underworld. Today, volcanologists install GPS stations, satellites measure ground deformation with millimetre precision, and seismographs record every tremor beneath the caldera. The technology has changed. The volcano remains. So do the people. Whenever we hear news about Pozzuoli or Campi Flegrei, we don't immediately think about earthquakes or volcanic hazards.
The Grandma remembers evenings along the waterfront. The smell of the sea. The voices filling the streets. The warmth of people who taught her that life is not measured by certainty, but by how fully we choose to live it. Perhaps that is the greatest lesson Campi Flegrei has to offer. The Earth beneath our feet is never truly still. Neither should our appreciation for the time we are given.
The first time The Grandma's Neapolitan friends discovered she was from Barcelona and supported Barça, they insisted on taking her to a tiny shrine hidden in Via Benedetto Croce. Flowers surrounded what looked like a sacred relic.
"Whose hair is that?" she asked. "A saint? Padre Pio? Some famous artist?"
They looked at her, almost offended.
"No... They belong to God."
"God?"
"Diego Armando Maradona."
Only in Napoli could such a conversation feel perfectly natural.
Perhaps, we, the Catalans recognized God before anyone else, because He wore number 10 -and Déu (God) in Catalan is spelled the same way as the number deu (ten). We simply didn't realize there would never be another God. Years later, football gave us something different -not another deity, but our own MESSIah.
The Grandma has paused two of the three courses she is currently taking for the summer holidays and has returned to Barcelona after spending a few days in el Parc Natural dels Ports de Tortosa-Beseit.
Today, she has spent time looking through the photos she took during her trip and has decided to look up more information about the otter -an animal that used to be common in Catalan rivers, nearly went extinct, and is now frequently being sighted again.
Some animals capture our imagination because of their strength. Others because of their beauty. The Eurasian otter (Lutra lutra) belongs to a rarer category: it inspires admiration because it reminds us that nature can heal itself -if we allow it to.
Few visitors exploring el Parc Naturals dels Ports de Tortosa-Beseit, shared by Catalonia, Valencia and Aragon, ever expect to encounter an otter. In fact, most never will. Unlike the majestic griffon vultures soaring above the limestone cliffs or the Iberian ibex confidently crossing rocky slopes, otters are masters of invisibility. They move mostly during twilight and at night, slipping silently through crystal-clear rivers beneath dense riverside vegetation. Yet their hidden presence tells an extraordinary story.
The otter is much more than one of the park's mammals. It is one of the clearest indicators that the rivers of Els Ports remain among the healthiest freshwater ecosystems in the Iberian Peninsula. Its survival represents decades of conservation, cleaner waters, restored habitats and a growing understanding that protecting rivers means protecting countless other forms of life.
Today, the otter has become one of the silent guardians of Els Ports. The Eurasian otter is one of Europe's most remarkable aquatic predators.Although it belongs to the weasel family (Mustelidae), it has evolved into a superb swimmer capable of living almost entirely around rivers, streams and wetlands.
An adult typically measures between 90 and 130 centimetres in total length, including its long muscular tail, and weighs between 6 and 12 kilograms, with males generally being larger tan females. Every part of its body has been shaped by evolution for life in water. Its dense waterproof fur contains hundreds of thousands of hairs per square centimetre, trapping air close to the skin and providing excellent insulation even during cold winter months. Its streamlined body allows it to glide effortlessly through water with minimal resistance. Its feet are fully webbed. Its powerful tail acts as both rudder and engine. Its ears and nostrils close automatically when submerged.
Most impressive of all are its whiskers, known scientifically as vibrissae. These highly sensitive organs detect the slightest movement in the water, allowing the otter to locate fish even in complete darkness or murky conditions. While humans rely mainly on vision, ottersfeel the movement of the water itself.
Els Ports is often celebrated for its spectacular mountains, dramatic cliffs and ancient forests. Less well known -but equally important- is its intricate network of rivers. Streams born from rainfall filtering through limestone mountains carve deep valleys before joining larger rivers that eventually reach the Mediterranean. Among the best-known waterways are stretches connected to the Matarranya, Ulldemó, Algars and Sénia river systems. These rivers are characterised by exceptionally clear water, rocky beds, waterfalls, natural pools and abundant riparian vegetation. Such habitats provide everything an otter needs:
-Clean, oxygen-rich water.
-Healthy fish populations.
-Crayfish and amphibians.
-Dense vegetation for shelter.
-Quiet riverbanks with little disturbance.
Otters are extremely demanding animals. Unlike many species capable of adapting to degraded environments, they disappear quickly when rivers become polluted or heavily altered. Their presence therefore serves as an ecological certificate of river health. Where otters thrive, freshwater ecosystems are usually functioning well.
Despite their playful reputation, otters are efficient hunters. Fish make up most of their diet, especially species that are easier to catch than fast-swimming predators. They also consume freshwater crayfish, frogs, aquatic insects, small mammals, birds and occasionally reptiles. Rather than chasing prey over long distances, otters often rely on stealth. Swimming quietly beneath the surface, they suddenly accelerate with remarkable speed. Their flexible bodies allow rapid turns impossible for many fish to escape. Interestingly, otters rarely overhunt. Their feeding habits naturally adapt to seasonal availability. This flexibility helps maintain ecological balance rather than exhausting prey populations.
Because videos of playful otters are immensely popular online, many people imagine them as carefree, sociable creatures. Reality is rather different. TheEurasian otter is highly territorial. Adults usually live alone except during the breeding season or when mothers are raising cubs. Each individual patrols long stretches of river, marking its territory using droppings called spraints. These spraints serve as chemical messages informing neighbouring otters about identity, reproductive status and territorial boundaries.
Scientists often locate otters not by seeing them, but by finding these characteristic markings beneath bridges, on rocks or beside riverbanks. Even experienced wildlife researchers may spend months studying otters without ever observing one directly.
Only a few decades ago, the future looked bleak. Throughout much of Europe, including Catalonia, otter populations collapsed dramatically during the twentieth century. Several factors acted simultaneously.
-Industrial pollution contaminated rivers with toxic chemicals.
-Otters were also hunted because they were wrongly blamed for reducing fish stocks.
By the 1970s and early 1980s, the species had disappeared from many regions where it had once been common. Its decline became one of Europe's clearest warnings about freshwater ecosystem degradation. The disappearance of the otter was not simply the loss of one mammal. It reflected the collapse of entire river systems.
Fortunately, the story did not end there. Across Catalonia, water quality gradually improved thanks to stricter environmental regulations.Protectednatural areas expanded. Wastewater treatment became more effective. Illegal hunting declined. Scientific monitoring increased. As rivers slowly recovered, otters began recolonising former territories. Their return happened naturally in many places. No large-scale reintroduction was necessary. Instead, surviving populations expanded along connected river systems whenever habitat conditions became suitable again. Els Ports benefited greatly from this recovery. The park's relatively unspoiled rivers provided ideal corridors for recolonisation.
Today, otters once again inhabit several waterways within and around the protected area. Although they remain elusive, evidence of their presence has become increasingly common. Their recovery stands as one of Europe's most encouraging conservation success stories.
Some may wonder why conservationists invest so much effort protecting a single species. The answer lies in the otter's ecological role. Otters are apex predators within freshwater food webs. By preying primarily on weaker, diseased or more easily captured fish, they help maintain healthier aquatic communities. More importantly, protecting otters indirectly protects entire ecosystems. Conserving an otter population requires:
-Healthy rivers.
-Native fish.
-Clean water.
-Natural vegetation.
-Functional floodplains.
-Reduced pollution.
Thousands of other species benefit from exactly these same conditions. In conservation biology, this is known as an umbrella species. Protecting one demanding animal safeguards countless others living beneath its ecological umbrella.
Although the outlook is much brighter than fifty years ago, otters still face significant challenges.
-Water pollution remains a serious concern.
-Plastic waste increasingly reaches rivers.
-Road mortality occurs where highways cross waterways.
-Climate change threatens river flows through prolonged droughts.
-Illegal fish traps occasionally injure or kill otters.
-Human disturbance from recreational activities may also affect breeding females.
One of the greatest long-term threats is habitat fragmentation. Healthy rivers need to remain connected. When barriers isolate populations, genetic diversity declines and recolonisation becomes more difficult. Protecting individual stretches of river is therefore not enough. Entire watersheds must remain ecologically functional.
Interestingly, otters are proving more adaptable than once believed. As river quality improves, they are recolonising areas surprisingly close to towns and cities. The key is not complete wilderness. Rather, they require healthy water, sufficient food and quiet refuges. This adaptability offers hope. Human development and wildlife conservation do not always have to be opposing forces. Thoughtful river management can benefit both biodiversity and local communities. Cleaner rivers also mean safer drinking water, healthier fisheries, greater resilience against climate change and more enjoyable natural spaces for people. The otter reminds us that environmental conservation ultimately serves humanity as well.
Visitors hoping to observe otters in Els Ports should adjust their expectations. Patience is essential. Seeing one is a privilege rather than a guarantee. The best approach is simply to enjoy the rivers themselves. Early morning or late evening offer the highest chances, though encounters remain rare. Instead of searching obsessively for the animal, many naturalists look for signs:
-Fresh footprints in muddy banks.
-Sliding marks where otters enter the water.
-Spraints deposited on prominent rocks.
-Fish remains.
These subtle clues often reveal far more about otter behaviour than a brief glimpse ever could. Above all, visitors should respect river habitats by remaining on established paths, avoiding unnecessary noise and never attempting to follow wildlife. The greatest gift we can offer these animals is to leave them undisturbed.
Conservation stories often focus on extinctions, habitat destruction and environmental crises. Those stories deserve attention. But nature also offers examples of resilience. The Eurasian otter represents one of those rare success stories. Its return demonstrates that ecosystems can recover. Polluted rivers can become clean again. Wildlife can reclaim forgotten territories. Human decisions can reverse decades of environmental decline. The otter's presence in Els Ports is therefore much more than an interesting biological fact. It is evidence that conservation works.
Every clean stream, every restored riverbank and every protected watershed contributes to a future where both people and wildlife can flourish together. Perhaps that is why the otter fascinates so many who study it. It is rarely seen. It asks for almost nothing beyond healthy rivers. And in return, it offers one of the most powerful messages nature can share. When the otter returns, the river is alive. When the river is alive, hope flows with it.
Even if a day feels too long You feel like you can't wait another one You're slowly givin' up on everything Love is gonna find you again
Love is gonna find you, you better be ready then
You been kneelin' in the dark for far too long You've been waitin' for that spark, but it hasn't come Well I'm callin' to you, please, get off the floor A good heart will find you again
A good heart will find you, just be ready then
Tethered to a bird of sorrow A voice that's buried in the hollow You've given over to self-deceivin' Your prostrate bowed would not be leavin' You've squandered more than you could borrow You've bet your joys on all tomorrows For the hope of some returnin' While everything around just burnin'
Come on, we gotta get out, get out of this mess we made And still for all our talk, we're both so afraid Will we leave this up to chance, like we do everything? Love is gonna find us again
Love is gonna find us, we gotta be ready then
Tethered to a bird of sorrow A voice that's buried in the hollow You've given over to self-deceivin' Your prostrate bowed would not be leavin' You've squandered more than you could borrow You've bet your joys on all tomorrows For the hope of some returnin' While everything around you's burnin'
But I'm not leavin' you yet I'm not leavin' you yet I'm not leavin' I'm not leavin', yeah, yeah I'm not leavin' I'm not leavin', yeah, yeah I'm hangin' on Hangin' on What's gonna come? I'm hangin' on now Hangin' on, hangin' on, hangin' on Hangin' on, hangin' on, hangin' on
With the faithful With the faithful I'm hangin' on What's gonna come? What's gonna come? Hangin' on Hangin' on
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