At dawn, with a smile at the bow
Dawn breaks. On the horizon, the sun stretches its golden fingers, lighting up the sea and the paths.
At that early hour, when silence still fits between footsteps, local guides are already reviewing maps, checking first aid kits, and polishing the stories that will later blossom in the memory of each visitor.
We set out with a smile at the bow and the deep conviction that caring for the land is the best way to share it.
A craft woven with knowledge and affection
Our work is not limited to “leading” groups. We interpret the landscape—its rocks, its tides, its customs—so that those who walk with us see it through new eyes. We help them avoid getting lost or stepping where they shouldn’t, and above all, we invite them to observe with respect the life pulsing in the intertidal zone: starfish clinging to the rocks, sea urchins nestled in crevices, colorful nudibranchs gliding like walking secrets, and that endless variety of creatures that turn every tidal pool into a universe.
We always remind them of the philosophy: “leave no trace, and if you can, pick up three”—three cigarette butts, three plastics, three objects that do not belong to the mountains or the shore.
This simple gesture sums up our mission: to add care to every step. Because the success of an experience is not measured only in smiles captured on camera, but in the almost invisible footprint we leave behind.
Turismophobia: mistaking the compass for the map
In recent years, the word turismophobia has gained traction, and active tourism is often pointed at as part of the problem. However, much of the public discontent stems from the unchecked growth of short-term tourist rentals. The root issue is not the Tourism Law itself, but the lack of municipal regulation that limits, balances, and manages this type of accommodation.
Our routes—on foot, by kayak, or by boat—rarely overlap with these rentals. In fact, we ecotourism professionals work to decentralize flows, de-seasonalize visits, and spread benefits beyond overcrowded areas. Each group guided by a local discovers hidden trails, family-run restaurants, and artisan workshops that would otherwise go unnoticed.
Small companies, big solutions
We are deeply rooted micro-businesses. We consume local products, hire local services, and sustain jobs year-round—even in February, when the fog licks the cliffs.
Our commitment to triple sustainability translates into:
- Environmental care: zero-waste plans, carbon footprint tracking, and citizen science programs.
- Social well-being: stable employment, continuous training, and collaboration with schools and community initiatives.
- Economic viability: a diverse activity portfolio, so the territory doesn’t depend on a single season or visitor type.
Those of us who love this land know it thrives when the people who live here do well—and when those who visit respect it. That’s why we say, as naturally as breathing, we are not part of the problem; we are part of the solution.
A call to row in the same direction
We ask local governments to listen to those of us who walk this territory step by step. Regulating tourist rentals is not being anti-tourism—it is about protecting neighborhood identity and ensuring that residents’ rest and housing security are not compromised.
Supporting active and eco-tourism is, at the same time, an investment in landscape stewards—professionals who interpret, protect, and share the land with both skill and sensitivity.
To the community, we offer open doors: come, walk with us, ask questions, observe, and take home not just photos, but the certainty that a different kind of tourism is possible—and already exists.
An epilogue with salty breeze
As the day fades and the colors soften, we return to port—the starting point of each story told.
Still hanging from the railing is the smile we set sail with, and a calm certainty: as long as there are local guides in love with their land, there will be visitors who learn to love it too.
That shared affection—kind and responsible—is the best remedy against turismophobia and against any footprint that isn’t the lasting memory of a well-cared-for landscape.
Because the compass of our craft always points to the same true north:
to bring value to the land, so the land continues to hold value.