The Maltese Islands offer fairly good walking opportunities for most of the year – that is excepting the hot summer months when nature goes dormant and the land turns dusty brown. The landscape is varied and the towns and villages are a chaotic mix of fine old buildings with a hotchpotch of mostly bland newer buildings coming up oh...virtually everywhere and all the time really. The countryside (or more precisely what remains of it) is typically Mediterranean with small fields and rubble walls – lots of rubble walls; we are a very territorial people and we mark our boundaries in no uncertain terms.
Then there are some areas where the terrain could not be conquered, divided and sub-divided, utilized or downright plundered despite the islanders’ best efforts (and we do try hard...)
These are the places where one can walk in solitude and silence, where rambling becomes a spiritual exercise - food for the eyes and the soul.
To my mind there are three special places which fall into this category and I try to visit each one at least once a year on my solitary walks.
The foremost place to walk in silence and feast the soul and eyes is by far the cliffs of Manikata – an extensive area which now forms part of the Majjistral Nature Park and so is theoretically an area saved for posterity. I have already written extensively about this place in a previous post http://www.stevebonellocartoons.com/2/post/2011/10/recharging-batteries.html so I will not bother you with repetition here. I will just place a panoramic image of the area here and let it speak for itself...
Then there are some areas where the terrain could not be conquered, divided and sub-divided, utilized or downright plundered despite the islanders’ best efforts (and we do try hard...)
These are the places where one can walk in solitude and silence, where rambling becomes a spiritual exercise - food for the eyes and the soul.
To my mind there are three special places which fall into this category and I try to visit each one at least once a year on my solitary walks.
The foremost place to walk in silence and feast the soul and eyes is by far the cliffs of Manikata – an extensive area which now forms part of the Majjistral Nature Park and so is theoretically an area saved for posterity. I have already written extensively about this place in a previous post http://www.stevebonellocartoons.com/2/post/2011/10/recharging-batteries.html so I will not bother you with repetition here. I will just place a panoramic image of the area here and let it speak for itself...
Rdum id-Delli in the Majjistral Park
The second on my list of magical walking places is the Qammieh promontory in the far north of Malta. This grand piece of natural real estate is dominated by the imposing St.Agatha’s Tower – more commonly known as the Red Tower (It-Torri l-Ahmar) . A lonely road winds by the tower to the end of the promontory with incredible open views on all sides, giving one a rare sense of space in an otherwise hopelessly crowded island.
But again, like Majjistral, for the real sense of wilderness one has to go beneath the cliffs and ramble and meander amongst a mighty array of huge boulders which over hundreds and thousands of years have come unhinged from the cliffs above and tumbled their way onto the scree below. This is one tough bastard of a place to walk but there is one huge reward at the extreme end – a lovely rock shelf of a beach backed by white stone cliffs. The sense of space and aloneness here is quite frankly awesome. As I said it’s a tough walk and getting lost in places is almost to be expected....having walked this area a dozen times or so I still manage to end up in rocky cul de sacs way too frequently for my liking... The only blot in this walk (one normally needs three hours minimum for it) is that for some parts of it the garish pink slab which is the Paradise Bay Hotel remains a visible reminder that civilisation is too uncomfortably close for comfort...
But again, like Majjistral, for the real sense of wilderness one has to go beneath the cliffs and ramble and meander amongst a mighty array of huge boulders which over hundreds and thousands of years have come unhinged from the cliffs above and tumbled their way onto the scree below. This is one tough bastard of a place to walk but there is one huge reward at the extreme end – a lovely rock shelf of a beach backed by white stone cliffs. The sense of space and aloneness here is quite frankly awesome. As I said it’s a tough walk and getting lost in places is almost to be expected....having walked this area a dozen times or so I still manage to end up in rocky cul de sacs way too frequently for my liking... The only blot in this walk (one normally needs three hours minimum for it) is that for some parts of it the garish pink slab which is the Paradise Bay Hotel remains a visible reminder that civilisation is too uncomfortably close for comfort...
Land's End - The rocky foreshore at Qammieh
Another view of the Qammieh beach
Number three on this short list is the cliff edge walk starting from Migra Ferha along the stretch of cliffs known as the Irdum tal-Vigarju. On one side the deep blue sea, on the other a steep hillside crowned by a crumbling cliff in places. This must be one of the best Mediterranean cliff edge walks – the only downside being that the path in places edges way too uncomfortably to the edge and a couple of short inland detours are called for for safety’s sake. At the end of about an hour’s cliff hugging one descends to a very large, flat limestone outcrop perched a few metres above the sea. This is known as Il-Blata tal-Melh . (the salt rock) and is for me the high point of this walk.
Though most of this area is basically untainted by human hands, a very brave attempt was in fact made to harness this smooth rock platform in times gone by as there is a stretch of salt pens carved in the soft rock. There is also a sort of open well-head leading directly to the sea below (one thing you really need to look out for- it's unmarked and therefore quite dangerous if you're unaware of it) – where probably salt water used to be drawn to fill the pens, and there is a carved stairwell leading directly to the sea, probably to provide easy access to the area by boat – much easier than acccess on foot actually.
Today these salt pens look abandoned but it is not uncommon to come across a fisherman or two in what arguably is the quietest and most remote place to pursue this activity.
Though most of this area is basically untainted by human hands, a very brave attempt was in fact made to harness this smooth rock platform in times gone by as there is a stretch of salt pens carved in the soft rock. There is also a sort of open well-head leading directly to the sea below (one thing you really need to look out for- it's unmarked and therefore quite dangerous if you're unaware of it) – where probably salt water used to be drawn to fill the pens, and there is a carved stairwell leading directly to the sea, probably to provide easy access to the area by boat – much easier than acccess on foot actually.
Today these salt pens look abandoned but it is not uncommon to come across a fisherman or two in what arguably is the quietest and most remote place to pursue this activity.
Rdum tal-Vigarju with Blata tal-Melh in the distance
The remote Blata tal-Melh
A few words of warning – if you are not familiar with these places do no go alone. The general recommendation is to go in a group of three as a minimum. If you suffer from vertigo or find basic rock clambering difficult then these places are not for you. Check the weather before you go - all of these places can be dangerous in inclement weather.
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