Tradition and faith meet at the coast in Spain every July to celebrate the patron of sailors

ESTEPONA, Spain — Silence falls on the beach in the former fishing village of Estepona as the sun sets over Spain's southern coast.

Barefoot men in white shirts carry a seven-foot statue of the Virgen del Carmen, or Our Lady of Mount Carmel, adorned with flowers, across the sand. Children climb on their parents' shoulders, while others record on their phones, standing waist-deep in the sea. Offshore, boats filled with families and friends await the Virgin's arrival.

As the statue reaches the shore, more than 90 men, many from fishing families, lift her onto traditional boats and she sets out to sea. Hundreds of vessels, from jet skis to paddleboards and fishing boats, join the procession chanting and singing, in their belief that the Virgin blesses the waters.

Every July 16, coastal communities across Spain honor the Virgin, saint of sailors and protector of those at sea, who was also named official patron of the Spanish Navy in 1901. It is one of the myriad Marian titles venerated by the Catholic faithful. In Estepona, once a humble fishing village on the Malaga coast, it's the most anticipated day of the year.

''Some people won't swim until the Virgin enters the water,'' says Isabel Moreno, secretary of the Hermandad del Carmen in Estepona, the Catholic religious brotherhood that organizes the event. ''Everyone wants to be close to her. She protects our fishermen, our neighbors, our visitors, all of us.''

It began in Estepona in 1962, when six sailors acquired the statue to bring this Catholic tradition closer to their town. Since then, it's grown into a full-day celebration that starts with an outdoor Mass, sea-themed games, and — this year for the first time — a women's boat race.

One popular contest called ''cucaña'' challenges young men to walk across a greased wooden beam suspended from a boat to grab a flag before falling into the water.

The statue leaves its chapel in the evening and is carried through the streets as residents throw flower petals, sing traditional songs known as coplas, and call her ''estrella de los mares'' — Spanish for star of the seas. She sails along the coast, then returns to land before being brought back to her chapel.

''This used to be a celebration only for sailors,'' says Alfonso Ramírez, head of the brotherhood and son of one of its founders. ''Now it belongs to everyone.''

In recent years, he says, organizers have worked to make the town feel included, regardless of fishing roots.

Estepona, like many Spanish coastal towns, has been transformed by tourism. In summer, its population doubles from 78,000 to nearly 160,000. Artisan fishing has declined, say captains at the maritime club, unable to compete with industrial fleets and increasingly threatened by invasive species like Asian seaweed, which has severely impacted the country's marine biodiversity for years.

To make up for the loss of income from fishing, many boats that once caught anchovies now carry tourists instead.

But for one night, each year, Estepona returns to its roots, with faith and memory filling the streets and the seaside.

Past midnight, Ana Ruiz, 86, sits outside her home in one of Estepona's oldest neighborhoods. She watches the procession return to the small chapel where the Virgin will rest until next year.

''We were all fisherfolk and had a humble life,'' says Ruiz, whose late husband carried the Virgin for 33 years. ''Now my neighbors are all foreigners. But we want them to love our Virgin too.''

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