Malta
We left Monastir amongst confusion and
mayhem, typical of this marina. The officials
attend your boat and must remain in place until your lines are released and you
move away from the dock thus signifying
departure from their country – with the sun beating down and a cool drink
promised upon their return to the office, patience for departure is not their
strong point. Our bow lines were
released before we were ready, strong winds caused the boat to go sideways and
I will leave the rest up to your imagination.
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| Fungus Rock |
We considered sailing to the small island
of Pantelleria where many of the boat refugees end up – but with good winds and
not-so-bumpy seas we kept sailing through the night with our first stop
Gozo. We anchored behind Fungus Rock
which sits in front of a horseshoe shaped cove with high rock formations. The
huge rock hides the entrance which has a narrow passage in to the cauldron-like
internal anchorage. The sea bed is rocky
providing lovely marine life. Winds do not affect this enclosure and therefore perfect
for us. Unfortunately we did not go
ashore in Gozo – we have read it is an amazing island.
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| St Paul's Bay |
The next day we set sail for Malta mainland
– our first stop was the beautiful anchorage of Comino – Blue Lagoon. Finding it crowded with holiday makers, loud
music and buzzing jet-skis we kept on moving – the next few anchorages were
similar so we went around the corner to the large bay of St Pauls and there we
stayed for a few days.
This is the tourist season and not a good
time to visit as everywhere is so crowded.
Our excursion to Valletta was more scary than sailing – the buses slowly
make their way down the hillside into our bay – slowly because traffic is
bumper to bumper and moving at a rate of 2km per hour. We were waiting in the burning sun watching
the bus slowly make its way closer to us – our stop becomes crowded with
tourists wiping dripping sweat from their faces and fanning themselves – the
bus driver takes one look at our crowd and passes by – his bus is full, so is
the next and we finally get to board the 3rd bus after cooking in
the sun for an hour.
The ride to Valletta is not very long in
kilometres but a considerable length in time but we do arrive …. hot, sticky
with the smell of armpits impregnated into our clothing and tired having to
stand bottom to bottom with others hanging onto a thin plastic strap that
allows you to swing with the corners – no chance of falling as you are held in
place by bodies. It was worth it – the
old part of Valletta, the capital of Malta, is a beautiful walled city
protecting the inner city. It towers
over Grand harbour giving views of the three cities that make up Valletta. The
history of the Knights of St John is everywhere and is an amazing story in
itself, the way a small group of monks defended Malta against hordes of
invaders that vastly outnumbered them. The
Maltese people are friendly and the views spectacular.
