On the Black Sea coast near Burgas, Lake Atanasovsko has become an unlikely magnet for visitors seeking a very particular kind of spa day. Here, tourists slather themselves in dark mineral mud and then float effortlessly in shallow pools of brine that have turned a striking shade of red.
The colour comes from microscopic algae and brine shrimp that thrive in the lake's hypersaline water. The result is a natural phenomenon that draws both curious travellers and locals who swear by the therapeutic properties of the mud and salt. The lake, a protected wetland and important bird habitat, sits just a few kilometres from Burgas, Bulgaria's fourth-largest city.
A living link to a salt-making past
Lake Atanasovsko is not just a tourist attraction; it is also one of Bulgaria's few remaining sites where salt is still harvested by hand. The tradition dates back centuries, and the lake's salt pans are still worked using methods that have changed little over time. But the industry has shrunk dramatically, and the knowledge is at risk of disappearing.
Just up the coast, in the town of Pomorie, the Salt Museum offers a window into that fading world. Housed in a former salt warehouse, the museum explains the history of salt production in the region, from the Thracians and Romans to the Ottoman era and the present day. Visitors can see the tools of the trade, learn about the evaporation process, and even taste the final product.
The museum's director, Maria Kirova, told European Pulse that the goal is to keep the heritage alive. “Salt is not just a seasoning. It is part of our identity, our economy, and our landscape. If we lose the knowledge, we lose a piece of who we are,” she said.
Salt production in the region has declined sharply in recent decades, as cheaper imports and industrial methods have undercut local producers. But there is renewed interest, driven in part by the growing popularity of salt therapy and the wellness tourism boom. The mud baths at Lake Atanasovsko are part of that trend, drawing visitors who come for the supposed health benefits, which range from skin treatment to relief from joint pain.
Scientists caution that the claims are not all backed by rigorous evidence, but they acknowledge that the mineral-rich mud and brine have been used for centuries in the region. The lake itself is a designated nature reserve, and authorities are careful to balance tourism with conservation.
For many visitors, the appeal is simpler: the chance to float effortlessly in water so dense that swimming is unnecessary, while surrounded by the stark beauty of the salt flats and the calls of migratory birds. The lake is a stop on the Via Pontica migration route, and birdwatchers come for the flamingos, pelicans, and herons that pass through.
The experience is not for everyone. The brine is intensely salty, and the mud has a strong mineral smell. But for those who embrace it, the reward is a sense of connection to a landscape that has shaped human activity for millennia.
As Bulgaria looks to diversify its tourism offerings beyond the crowded beach resorts of Sunny Beach and Golden Sands, sites like Lake Atanasovsko and the Pomorie Salt Museum offer a different kind of attraction: one rooted in nature, history, and a way of life that is slowly slipping away.
For now, the red water and the mud baths continue to draw the curious, and the salt pans still glisten under the sun, a reminder of a trade that once defined this coast.
