Camping Miķeļbāka

The place is just amazing, host is accommodating and helpful. We are group on the bike with tents. We came to the camping, there was hot food and cold beer, what we needed after a whole day of biking. Camping site has beautiful surrounding, place was not overcrowded and the beach was just next to the camping. Just the best place we have ever been since we are biking through Europe, and it is a piece of time.

I just spent 10 hours at this post world war 2 battleground. Spoiler alert: the only serene thing was the Estonian wizard in the tent by the entry road. First impression: pull up, ready to commune with nature, maybe roast a wiener or two, but no. Owner, let’s call him “Chad the Rat King,” greets me with the warmth of a wet cigarette. I say, “Hey, checking in for site 12.” Chad responds by sighing so hard I’m pretty sure he deforested another acre of oxygen. Then he hits me with the classic combo: side-eye, snort, and “You gotta pay the arrival fee”. The "bathroom" by the camp site is a plywood box labeled “VIP Lounge.” Inside: a trench style dugout that doubles as a spider orgy venue and a teleport to the cholerae dimension. No running water means you gotta flush it down with your tears. Next morning, I pack up faster than a gipsy man leaving the train station with your grandma's pension in his pocket. I politely tell owner the stay “wasn’t quite what we expected.” He responds, “Expectations cost extra.” Then he slaps a 20€ “Early Departure Sadness Fee” on my card. I asked what the fee covers; he says “emotional damages.” Bro, the only emotional damage here is whatever childhood trauma turned you into Harry Porter's evil twin. Luckily it's illegal to let this man touch the dunes or the beach, because that was the only pleasant thing about this camping experience. If it wasn't for the beach, just the mere presence of this whacked pineapple is enough to make you want to kiss that 12 gauge barrel. Moral of the story: If you enjoy hostile greeters, cholera roulette, having a drone take photos of you pissing in the forest or paying extra for the privilege of leaving, Camp Shitfire’s your jam. Otherwise, just pitch a tent in your own backyard and have your neighbor scream at you while you hand your money over to the crack dealing raccoons. It’s cheaper and the raccoons have better manners.

Lovely camping site and very friendly for kids. Close to sea and has it own play area for kids. Lovely toilets and hot water in showers.