Salvador Dalí once said that he shaped his personality in the landscape surrounding his home in Portlligat, as well as the neighboring areas of Cadaqués and Cap de Creus. It was in this village that Dalí spent most of his life, finding solace in the geological tranquility of the region. As I embark on my road trip from Brighton to Catalonia, I am drawn to this area because of Dalí’s influence on my imagination. His surreal and captivating imagery opened my mind to the world of the unusual. Since discovering that the landscapes that inspired his work are just as extraordinary as he portrayed them, I have longed to visit. My journey is a pilgrimage to experience Dalí’s world and to connect with the rocks that have played a significant role in my own life.
My home base for this trip is Cadaqués, a charming coastal town with a bohemian flair, reminiscent of St Ives. It has become a fashionable destination with its whitewashed houses, winding streets, pebbled beaches, and an array of eateries. Originally a simple fishing village, Cadaqués gained its reputation through the artists and communities drawn to its captivating light, solitude, and beauty.
While Mick Jagger, Luis Buñuel, Marcel Duchamp, and Albert Einstein have all left their mark on Cadaqués, it was Dalí who truly put this town on the map. A statue of Dalí stands proudly on the seafront, while a trail showcases his depictions of the town. The privately owned Dalí Expo showcases his illustrations from various books, including classics like “Venus in Furs,” “Faust,” “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” and “the Bible.”
These iconic vistas sparked Dalí’s creativity and allowed him to develop his unique double-image style of painting. Cadaqués can be busy and hot in the summer, but in autumn, it offers a more peaceful and comfortable experience. The temperatures hover around the mid-20s, giving me the perfect opportunity to explore beyond swimming and sunbathing.
The Dalí Theatre-Museum in Figueres, while impressive, may not win over those who find Dalí’s art gimmicky. The collection mainly showcases his later-period works, which can come across as kitschy and overly ornate compared to his more famous pieces. However, the museum’s highlights include Dalí’s early paintings, the Mae West room, and a floor dedicated to his paintings of rocks, stones, and lichen from the coastline he cherished so deeply.
Yet, the true gem of my trip lies in the geological wonderland that is Cap de Creus natural park, a short distance from Cadaqués. This protected area is the highest level of preservation for a park of its kind in Spain. From June to October, the only road leading to the park is closed to cars, allowing visitors to explore by foot, bike, or bus from Portlligat.
The park ranger advises treating the landscape as a museum and not disturbing its natural state. Invasive species have been eradicated, restoring the ecological balance, and even traces of a closed Club Med holiday resort have been removed. As I disembark at Paratje de Tudela, one of Dalí’s favorite painting spots, I enter a prehistoric and surreal landscape. The distant Pyrenees serve as a reminder that this terrain was shaped by the collision of mountains and the Mediterranean.
The vibrant succulents, samphire, shrubs, yellow lichen, juniper, rosemary, and cacti provide a colorful contrast to the volcanic schist. Following the path that descends towards the sea, I come across viewing posts that suggest shapes within the rock formations, such as a camel, a rabbit, or a reclining figure. These landscapes inspired Dalí’s double-image style of painting, immortalized in famous works like “The Persistence of Memory” and “The Great Masturbator,” which depict human faces in the form of rock formations.
The geological wonders of Cap de Creus play tricks on the eyes. From a distance, a cream blanket draped over a rock appears like a Dalí-esque statue of the Virgin Mary. The rocks, boulders, and slate formations with their weathered textures create an otherworldly atmosphere. Multitudes of small crevices resemble the hooded eye sockets of countless skulls, watching my every move. The hills truly seem to have eyes.
The natural park offers marked walking routes ranging from four to eight kilometers. While places to eat are scarce, the Restaurant Cap de Creus near the park’s lighthouse provides stunning sea views and delicious regional cuisine. Sturdy walking boots, sun cream, water, and a hat are essential for navigating this environment, but there are also paved paths in the Tudela area for those with limited mobility.
My final destination is Dalí’s house in Portlligat. Booking in advance is necessary, as the tours are limited to eight people. While the tour guide and a short film present a somewhat sanitized version of Dalí’s personal life, the house, gardens, and Dalí’s personal belongings offer a deeper understanding of his tastes and passions. Dalí’s former home, expanded over the years, is a labyrinth of exquisitely decorated rooms and eccentricities. For example, Gala, Dalí’s wife, had a birdcage for canaries in the bedroom, while Dalí had a tiny one for a single cicada, whose chirping lulled him to sleep. The tour guide also highlights Dalí’s swimming pool, which he claims was inspired by a piece of polystyrene but is undeniably shaped like a giant phallus. In the garden, among the giant eggs adorning the roof, stands one that has been cracked open, inviting visitors to explore its interior.
Twenty years ago, I first encountered this cracked egg in a documentary about Dalí titled “The Soft Self Portrait.” In the film, alongside piano drownings, oversized shirts, and incomprehensible monologues, a bare-chested man emerged from the cracked egg and crawled over the rocks. Later, he was seen rowing a boat with crucifixes for oars. His name was Drako Zarhazar. He served as a model for Dalí and lived in Portlligat with the artist’s entourage in the late 1960s before eventually settling in Brighton.
Drako Zarhazar epitomized the bohemian and artistic spirit of my hometown. With his curlicue mustache inspired by Dalí, he often wore a cape, a fez, and a pair of Crocs. His presence added to the enchantment of Brighton. And now, as I explore Dalí’s world and the rocky landscapes that shaped our lives, I can’t help but feel a sense of connection to the eccentricity and creativity that both Drako and Dalí embodied.
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