Playa Chica

The bay reads first as a place and second as a dive. A small protected beach in the centre of Puerto del Carmen, two short jetties on either side, a low pier on the right with a steel-ladder entry. You can walk in past resort towels or step off the pier in one move, regulator and mask braced with one hand. The floor sits at five to eight metres within a few fin kicks; sand-and-rock mixed, the inside of each jetty acting as a low artificial wall. Work left or right along a jetty and the sequence is consistent: octopus tucked into rock joints, vieja and ornate wrasse picking over the volcanic rock, fula negra schooling above your head, breams and trumpetfish in the gaps. Cross the sand shelf back to the beach and the dive closes shallow enough to use as a safety-stop playground after deeper work elsewhere.

The night route is the one centres treat as the bay's signature. After dusk the same shallow profile shifts character: cuttlefish out in courtship behaviour, octopus active on the sand, parrotfish sleeping wedged into rock joints, nudibranchs picked out under torchlight on rocks that read empty by day.

A diver of any level launches from the same step here. A snorkeller, a supervised try-dive, an Open Water student and a tech diver heading for the 40m wall can all start from the same beach. The bay itself is not a destination dive: it is a shore-dive entry, and at least six named dives radiate from it, each catalogued as its own site. Centres assemble level-appropriate groups and route them to different parts of the system from one car park, which is why a visitor's week on Lanzarote often passes through this beach three or four times.

The second draw is the fauna staging around the bay. The deeper sand off Puerto del Carmen is where angel sharks rest in winter, and the wider entry zone catches a seasonal pelagic rotation. Encounters happen on the routes off the bay more than in the bay itself, but it is the same step that puts a diver within reach of all of them.

Macro is the strongest case here. The shallow rocks along the inside of each jetty hold nudibranchs, small shrimp and tube-dwelling anemones, and the rock joints harbour octopus that sit still once they recognise the light. A focus torch and a slow pass over the same metre of rock pay better than covering ground. Wide-angle works on the jetty walls for larger fish and on the sand for the seasonal angel-shark possibility in winter. The night dive is the one most photographers come back for: cuttlefish in courtship behaviour close to the bottom, octopus out hunting, parrotfish wedged motionless into joints for sleep.

Wind chill, not water temperature, is the comfort issue. Surface temperatures sit at 22-24C in summer and 18-19C in winter, but the south-facing exposure picks up brisk wind between dives even on calm-water days; a hood and a windproof layer outside summer make the second dive bearable. The pier ladder needs care in chop: time a wave to lift you onto the landing, take the rail, and step off quickly.

Crowding is real in July and August. Vans converge on the same parking and the same step in peak season, and pleasure boats use the bay entry zone too, so an SMB on ascent is sensible. An early start gives the calm version of the dive.

The night dive is worth a separate visit. The species shift after dusk is the reason centres run it as a standing offering. Bring a primary torch and a backup; the macro on the rocks rewards a careful, slow pass.