Exploring Loíza, Puerto Rico | 5 Must-See Destinations 

Let’s face it, most tourists vis­it Puer­to Rico for the beach­es. And Puer­to Rico has beach­es all around it. After all, it’s an island. So from here on you can replace the word “des­ti­na­tions” with the word “beach­es”.

Now that we have that out of the way, let’s set anoth­er thing straight: “not all beach­es in Puer­to Rico have been cre­at­ed equal”. Sure, they all have water, sand and sun. But that’s prob­a­bly where the sim­i­lar­i­ties end. In the­o­ry, all beach­es in Puer­to Rico have been in the pub­lic domain since 1886, when the Span­ish gov­ern­ment (the rul­ing colo­nial pow­er at the time) enact­ed the Law of Ports. But in prac­tice it’s anoth­er matter.

Many hotels and con­dos have been built along the shore­line. That makes it dif­fi­cult, or imprac­ti­cal, for the peo­ple to access many of the Island’s best beach­es. In oth­er cas­es the gov­ern­ment has built “bal­n­ear­ios”, that are sup­posed to be for every­one, but also come with rules and restrictions.

Then you have what I jok­ing­ly call “beach­es beach­es” in my book “Puer­to Rico Beach By Beach”. These are the beach­es that many of the locals vis­it. But there’s a catch. They don’t come with ameni­ties. They have no buoys, life­guards, gaze­bos, show­ers, bath­rooms, con­ces­sion stands or park­ing areas.

It’s just you and nature (and the cou­ple of oth­er hun­dred peo­ple that might just hap­pen to be there). So I guess this is the part where I tell you that “if you decide to vis­it any one of the beach­es that I’m going to men­tion in this post it’s total­ly up to you. I’m not encour­ag­ing you, rec­om­mend­ing any of them or in any way respon­si­ble for what might hap­pen to you”.

Dur­ing the last week of March my wife and I vis­it­ed the Piñones area in the town of Loíza, Puer­to Rico. We meant to cov­er the entire munic­i­pal­i­ty, like we’ve done with oth­er towns for our series “5 Must-See Places in the town of XXXX”, but we wrote to the mayor’s office and received no response. Like I’ve said in the past, these things are a lot eas­i­er when you have some­one from the munic­i­pal­i­ty to show you around and point you in the right direction.

When you don’t, you just do your best and let the chips fall where they may.

One of the most attrac­tive areas in the entire town of Loíza has always been the Piñones sec­tor. When I was a young man I used to dri­ve by this area on Sun­day after­noons to enjoy the shore­line and an oca­sion­al “frit­u­ra” with an “adult” bev­er­age. Today it’s entire­ly a dif­fer­ent scenario.

Sure, the beach­es are still there; and they’re wild and beau­ti­ful like God intend­ed, but there are build­ings every­where. So much so that in many cas­es you can’t even see the coast.

And if you’re ask­ing your­self “what’s a frit­u­ra?”, it’s a type of fried food made to be eat­en on the go. As for the “adult bev­er­age” I’m sure we’re all on the same page with that one.

Boca de Cangrejos and the Food

My wife and I arrived in Piñones around 10:00am and went straight to the Boca De Can­gre­jos shore­line. This is a small beach that’s just behind the restau­rant area that you find on your left imme­di­ate­ly as you pass the bridge that joins Loíza to the town of Car­oli­na. If you’re still not clear where that is, there’s a map at the end of this arti­cle with the GPS coor­di­nates to every loca­tion mentioned.

When I was a young man this entire area was a pine for­est. Not like the ones you would find in the Rocky Moun­tains or Yel­low­stone, but trop­i­cal pines. My friend and I would often go there on Sun­days, park under the trees, wax our cars, have a beer and check out the girls. Today there are dozens of restau­rants, trash in every cor­ner and you can hard­ly see the shore. And for­get about the pines. Those were killed years ago.

As for the food, let me just say (and I’ll try to be nice) that it’s not the best rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Puer­to Rican “frit­uras”. First, many of the peo­ple con­coct­ing the food aren’t even Puer­to Ricans. And sec­ond, most of what you’ll find has been sit­ting under a light bulb for hours. That makes for mushy food soaked in overused grease.

My wife and I ordered a cou­ple of those mon­strosi­ties and end­ed up throw­ing them in the trash. Hours lat­er we had upset stomaches.

This isn’t to say that you won’t find gen­uine high qual­i­ty “frit­uras” any­where in this area. Of course you will, but you’ll have to know what to look for. And here’s a hint: “find a place with a long line and a per­son actu­al­ly fry­ing the food as he/she sells it. The long line will usu­al­ly means that their food is good. Why else would peo­ple put up with a long line? And the fact that you’re get­ting the food right out of the boil­ing oil guar­an­tees that it won’t be mushy.

As for the Boca de Can­gre­jos Beach, it’s a small beach where many of the locals go. It’s also next to the mouth of the Blasi­na Chan­nel that reach­es the sea next to the Can­gre­jos Yacht Club.

I used to fish in that area when I was a young man, so expe­ri­ence taught me that there’s always a strong cur­rent going in or out of the chan­nel, depend­ing on the tide. Most of this beach is rocky with only a small area to bathe in.

Locals go there because they know how the water behaves, but if you ask me, I wouldn’t rec­om­mend it.

From there we drove 2–3 miles, along road 187, until we reached the famous Vacia Tale­ga beach. There are 4 oth­er beach­es along this stretch of road that I’ll cov­er next. There’s also a trail, cov­ered in black­top, that con­nects all the beach­es. But here are a cou­ple of things to keep in mind before you “walk it”.

1. Con­sid­er your Health — You’ll be walk­ing 2–3 miles under the blis­ter­ing Puer­to Rican sun, so make sure to wear con­fort­able shoes, light-col­ored cloth­ing, a wide brim hat and lots of sun­block. Car­ry a water bot­tle too. And remem­ber, those miles that I was talk­ing about are one-way. You’ll have to return.
2. Trail Con­di­tions — The gov­ern­ment has done a poor job of main­tain­ing the trail, so in some areas you’ll find over­grown veg­e­ta­tion and bro­ken pavement.
3. Mos­qui­toes — Many areas along the trail are cov­ered in man­grove and where there’s one there’s the other.
4. Cyclists — Many locals and tourists ride this trail rather than walk­ing it, so be mind­ful of your surroundings.

All this said, if you real­ly want to expe­ri­ence this area (or at least part of it) walk­ing is your best bet.

Piñones Waterfront

Many peo­ple believe that this entire area gets its name from the Piñones beach. But that’s actu­al­ly a mis­take. The beach actu­al­ly gets its name from the Piñones for­est that used to cov­er most of the area.

Today urban sprawl has dec­i­mat­ed a large por­tion of the for­est and most peo­ple asso­ciate the name with the beach.

The Piñones Water­front makes for excel­lent eye can­dy. You won’t find a bet­ter place to shoot those won­der­ful trop­i­cal beach pic­tures. But this is actu­al­ly the North Atlantic Ocean, with all its might, rocky bot­tom and under­wa­ter currents.

Like the Boca de Can­gre­jos area there are restau­rants every­where. So much so that they have tak­en over the area and it’s hard to find a clear view of the coast anywhere.

Many of those places of busi­ness start­ed as lit­tle shacks that didn’t con­form to gov­ern­ment reg­u­la­tions or per­mits. Some still don’t. And some are just ruins of what repeat­ed hur­ri­canes have left along the years. We also observed a lot of trash and graffiti.

Final­ly, you have the noise lev­els. This was some­thing that we observed in the Boca de Can­gre­jos area as well. Some estab­lish­ments have the music so loud that it’s hard to hear your own thoughts. Let alone each oth­er. Don’t these ven­dors know that annoy­ing patrons is hard­ly a way to attract them?

La Torre Beach

When I was a young man this beach would be next to the road. Peo­ple would park on the edge of the road, enjoy the view and buy at the local food stands.

Today it’s still next to the road, of course. But now you can’t park. There’s a dou­ble rail­ing along the entire beach that seems to say “keep going”, “don’t stop here”. And peo­ple don’t.

I went by “La Torre” on three dif­fer­ent occa­sions while I was pro­duc­ing the video and there was nev­er any­one there. I found this odd because, at first glance, this seems like a very nice beach, with clean tan sand and hard­ly any rocks.

But the fact that there’s nev­er any­one there should tell us some­thing. After all, this is the open North Atlantic Ocean we’re talk­ing about, so cur­rents and high surf can be a factor.

La “Pocita” Beach

In Span­ish a “poci­ta” is a pond or pool. And that’s exact­ly what you’ll find at “la poci­ta” beach. It’s a long beach with a reef just as long that extends along the beach form­ing a pond. Peo­ple love this beach, espe­cial­ly moth­ers with young chil­dren, because the water inside the “poci­ta” is crys­tal clear and calm.

Beyond the “poci­ta” is anoth­er mat­ter. We were told by the locals that some peo­ple have drowned while attempt­ing to go beyond the reef into the Atlantic waters. You don’t have to be a genius to fig­ure that one out. All you have to do is look at how the water hits against the reef to know that it takes a moron to go beyond “la poci­ta”. But I guess there’s a few of those around.

This beach can get quite busy dur­ing the week­ends. There are street ven­dors that rent beach chairs and large umbrel­las. Some sell “frit­uras” as well. Park­ing is anoth­er mat­ter. You’ll have to park along the side of the road and cross through traf­fic to get to the beach. Safe­guards and show­ers are out of the question.

Sur­pris­ing­ly, we didn’t find this beach too dirty, giv­en that nobody from the gov­ern­ment actu­al­ly main­tains it. I guess some peo­ple are becom­ing more “civ­i­lized”.

“Aviones” Beach

The word “avión” means air­plane in Span­ish. I couldn’t find any­one that could tell me why they call this beach “aviones”, so I sur­mise that it must be because of the many planes from the near­by Luis Muñoz Marín Air­port that fly over it dur­ing takeoff.

That said, I would­n’t be caught dead at this beach. At least not in the water. This place is beau­ti­ful, don’t get me wrong. But you can feel the rage of the North Atlantic Ocean from the minute that you arrive. The surf is very high and you can see the rip cur­rents from out­side the water.

The day when my wife and I vis­it­ed the surf was espe­cial­ly high because there was one of those “high surf advi­sories” under­way. But it wasn’t the excep­tion. It’s the rule. Like the Piñones Water­front this is one beach that makes for excel­lent eye can­dy but I’d advise you to stay out of the water.

Besides, there’s hard­ly any place to park (oth­er than the park­ing spaces of near­by busi­ness­es) and there’s hard­ly any shade either.

Vacia Talega

When it comes to beach­es in the Piñones area of Loíza, Vacia Tale­ga takes first place. In fact, accord­ing to my per­son­al def­i­n­i­tion it’s the only one that’s actu­al­ly a beach. You see, Vacia Tale­ga is shaped sort of like a horse­shoe (although not quite) and it has a reef at the mouth of that horse­shoe pro­tect­ing it from from the harsh surf of the Atlantic Ocean.

This makes for calm water, a sandy bot­tom and very low surf. It also has a park­ing area, albeit a small one.

Locals from Loíza and oth­er near­by towns flock to Vacia Tale­ga because of its crys­tal clear water and calm surf. But be advised, it can get quite busy dur­ing the weekends.

That said, it’s the best the town of Loíza has to offer.

Loiza, the town

My wife and I always make it a point to vis­it the old part of town in every munic­i­pal­i­ty, and Loíza was no excep­tion. Besides, it was just a lit­tle fur­ther down the road from Vacia Talega.

Most of Loíza is res­i­den­tial in nature. The orig­i­nal town is small and it fol­lows the typ­i­cal Span­ish arrange­ment of the town square in the mid­dle, city hall on one end and the Catholic Church on the other.

The church would’ve been worth a vis­it, but we couldn’t go in. Why? Because the build­ing itself was open, but it had a tall fence all around it that was closed. We asked around and even inquired at city hall, but no one was able to help us. So we left with­out vis­it­ing it.

In case you’re inter­est­ed, the church is The Par­ro­quia del Espíritu San­to y San Patri­cio. It was con­struct­ed in 1645 and is one of Puer­to Rico’s old­est Catholic parish church­es. The coor­di­nates are also in the map.

After leav­ing the small town of Loíza we took road 187 and retraced our route back to Isla Verde. It’s the eas­i­est way back.

Like Cataño, the town we vis­it­ed before, Loíza has so many pos­si­bil­i­ties that it’s mind bog­gling how they haven’t tak­en advan­tage of them. I’m not sug­gest­ing mega hotels or resorts of any kind. God knows that Puer­to Rico has seen enough of those. They burn through what­ev­er sub­si­dies they can get from the gov­ern­ment and leave them hold­ing the bag when there’s noth­ing more to extract.

I’m tak­ing about eco­tourism projects. I’m talk­ing about con­trol­ling the sprawl of ugly, ill designed struc­tures, lin­ing the beach­es to the point where you can’t see the shore­line. I’m talk­ing about burned struc­tures, destroyed struc­tures, aban­doned struc­tures… Piñones can be a tourism mag­net for locals and vis­i­tors. but it’s ugly and dirty.

I know that many of my Puer­to Rican broth­ers and sis­ters don’t take kind­ly to me crit­i­cis­ing my own peo­ple. But I do it because I care, and I believe that Puer­to Rico can be so much bet­ter. All it takes is a lit­tle bit of com­mon pur­pose, a lit­tle bit of plan­ning and a lit­tle bit of work.

I’ve made it my mis­sion to show Puer­to Rico to eng­lish speak­ing peo­ple around the world. But I can’t hide the garbage that shows up in my videos. Believe me, I try. But some­times it’s just too much. Oth­er times I leave it in on pur­pose. After all, I can’t paint a pic­ture that doesn’t exist. If I do, peo­ple will stop trust­ing me.

The next few videos will prob­a­bly be short­er. The next few arti­cles too. Why? Because the next few towns are (let me try to be kind) incon­se­quen­tial. They are dor­mi­to­ry towns. That means that peo­ple sleep there, but they work in San Juan. Besides, I tried writ­ing to their may­ors and noth­ing hap­pened. So why should I care if they don’t?

When I start­ed this series I guess I was a lit­tle ide­al­is­tic. I mean, find­ing 5 must-see places in any town should­n’t have been so hard. Right? Well, I’m not so sure anymore.

We’ll see.

Until the next town…

©2023,Orlando Mer­gal, MA
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Bilin­gual Con­tent Cre­ator, Blog­ger, Pod­cast­er,
Author, Pho­tog­ra­ph­er and New Media Expert
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