Malta

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.

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. 

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 3^rd 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.