Sunday – Valletta, Malta

Sure enough, the weather was as bad overnight as we’d expected… in fact, I think it was probably a little bit worse. The captain had warned us of impending bad seas, explaining that we’d taken an unplanned, circuitous route towards Malta, to avoid a much worse storm that was currently raging further North, in the path of our original route. Phew, that’s a relief then…

The rocking and rolling continued on into the morning and didn’t subside until we finally bobbed our way into the safety of Valletta harbour at around 1pm.

Valletta is a fascinating place, with an colourful history. The walls of the harbour are steep and imposing, but bright and warm, and pock-marked with the patterns of erosion. Above those walls, the city rises; there are no modern high-risers here, however… It is a city that appears to be in a state of constant restoration; its long, straight streets cut through the centre of town hemmed-in by tall, old balconied buildngs. At one end of the city, Fort Elmo sits side-by-side with ‘The Malta Experience’; at the other, is the magnificent St John’s Cathedral, the newly-restored City Gates and a modern open-air theatre blended-in rather creatively with the remains of some ancient temple.

As we’re staying here overnight, and not leaving until lunchtime tomorrow, we decided to leave an exploration of the city centre until the morning. We haven’t been given any escorting duties for Malta, so we decided to take a wallk along by the harbour wall, back towards the entrance to the harbour, where we’d seen some quite spectacular waves on the way in.

As is often the case with these things, such simple ideas can morph into something quite unexpected. Walking along the edge of the harbour wall proved to be more interesting than we’d anticipated. Leaving the road, we found a narrow trail that hugged the wallside; steps that had been worn smooth by the weather, lead us down, close to the waters edge, and eventually to the place we’d aimed for… the entrance to the harbour.

What made it all rather exciting were the waves that crashed close, alongside us. We paused to photograph the harbour, bathed in a warm, late afternoon light, as the waves pounded the rocks just beneath us, then exploded in spray. However; these waves were nothing compared to those pounding the outer harbour wall. We reached a point were we thought that we couldn’t go any further; the end of the road. The wall to our left dropped down to a level area before rising again, to form a small island of rock. Between the two, was a narrow channel, where, at one end, the waves crashed, sending waves of sea down towards us. Surely this was the end of the road.

But then, we saw that there was a small number of people on the island, and the only way to get there would be take our shoes and socks off and wade up the channel, with the breaking waves shooting down towards us – sometimes small – sometimes not so small. We stood for a long while, weighing up the situation; whether to head back, or whether to take our shoes and socks off and check it out.

Naturally, we went barefoot and waded up the channel, praying that the waves would stay small, at least until we’d climbed onto the rock… we’d come so far, after all. The small group of people on the rock turned out to be a family of Italians, who’d also taken a chance, not knowing quite what they were letting themselves in for.

Had it not been for the fact that it was late afternoon, and the sunset was imminent, meaning that if we left it too late, we’d have to negotiate the eroded walkway back to the port in the dark (which we really didn’t fancy), we would have stayed there for much longer. We’d found ourselves right in the furthest corner of the wall, where it became a long, narrow arm, forming one half of the harbour entrance. Beyond this, the sea raged; it being the same turbulent sea that we’d sailed in on. Much to the childlike enjoyment of all present, it crashed incessantly upon the harbour wall and exploded into mountainous plumes of white spray. The youngest members of the Italian family goaded the sea by standing as close as they dare to the outer edge of the wall, then running away from the explosion of spray as it reached out to cover them. On one occasion, we were slightly concerned when the wave came in with such force that it knocked one of the young teenage girls to the ground… it didn’t take a genius to see that the danger of being swept out to sea was a very real one.

The whole dramatic scene was topped off by the warm light of the setting sun and the occasional flashes of lightning visible out on the horizon.

We stayed as long as we dare, then started wading back. The Italians followed; it seems they, too were watching the fading light and didn’t want to be caught out.

What a spectatcular afternoon in Valletta, and a fun little adventure; we were so pleased that we’d done it…