Plaucaki

Plaucaki gets every tent I have. Beautiful seaside location, excellent value, thoughtful facilities and—miracle of miracles—no assholery in sight.

This was not technically a solo camp. I went with a friend. Sue me: I have friends, and occasionally people want to hang out with me. I still mostly camp alone, but the field notes contain multitudes.

Quiet—but not ghostly quiet

Plaucaki is a small, fenced campsite in the pine forest near Roja, with tent pitches as well as rental houses. Music and parties are not allowed, and during my stay that rule produced something rare: a campsite that was busy without ever becoming intrusive.

People spent their evenings talking, sitting around their fires and enjoying themselves. The atmosphere felt warm and sociable, yet calm enough to be genuinely delightful and relaxing. It was not the eerie silence of an abandoned field. It was simply a group of respectful people understanding that everyone had come to breathe.

Quiet enough to hear the forest. Lively enough to know you haven’t wandered into a campsite for ghosts.

A practical little pitch

Plaucaki sits just off the Roja–Kolka road. The final approach includes roughly one kilometre of gravel road. It is narrow in places, but it was not a bad drive—take it slowly and be prepared to make room if another car approaches.

At €15 per night, Plaucaki felt like excellent value for a campsite so close to the sea. We could park beside our pitch, and each pitch had its own table and fire pit. Drinking water was available on site, alongside toilets with running water, a dishwashing area and good hot showers for an additional €3.

The owners were friendly, accommodating and clearly attentive to the atmosphere they wanted to maintain. The campsite was not enormous, which helped it feel cared for rather than anonymous.

Five minutes to the Baltic

The sea is roughly 250 metres away—a short walk through a beautiful pine forest. Nearby, Baltā kāpa makes an easy destination, and you can walk along the shore towards Ģipka, around three kilometres away, then reward yourself with a little ice cream from Citro.

More determined walkers could make Melnsils or Roja their goal. That is delightful for them. I prefer a book in my hammock, leisurely forest and seaside walks, and pausing to eat blueberries or lingonberries. This is recreation, not a military exercise.

What we ate

Mostly vegan. Entirely committed.

I travelled with a vegan, so she ate vegan and I ate mostly vegan. We also ate properly. Food is life. Stop judging me, unknown reader.

Beyond Meat burgers joined the barbecue because, once again, we eat. The soyshlik was ridiculously good, the vegetables caught the smoke properly, and nobody was pretending that camping requires surviving on crumbs.

Breakfast was more vegan food plus an egg: Wheat Fish-O-Peas, a Mexican-style soy, bean and corn salad, and home-grown cucumbers and tomatoes. Yes, I brought the smug garden produce. Obviously.

Then came ramen with kimchi and vegan cheese. It looked like a ridiculous amount of food because it was a ridiculous amount of food. I ate it all. We may also have had a drink or two—and yes, two nearly-forty-year-old women are fully capable of drinking, talking and having fun without making a racket or playing music across a quiet campsite.

The following morning somebody failed to photograph the food. The official record will simply state that breakfast was much the same as the morning before—and was eaten with equal enthusiasm.