The quiet square of Baħrija.

A three cat welcome.

The old chapel. For the old gods?

Gozo picking up the rays.

The purpose escapes me! Hanging his beer cans out to dry? Perhaps it is to make the fence line visible. There’s no entrance through it though. With all the effort those ten cans must have taken, I’d have gone for another colour.

You scarlet lemon tree, I condemn thee and hack off your limbs in righteous mutilation..

But she found a way and sprouts anew anyway.

We create blocks out of cement and a thoroughly nasty process it is. Here, for millennia they have cut the soft limestone. It must be cheap enough to do because these oblong blocks are everywhere and go back to at least Roman times. Nowadays cut with a circular saw – see marks.

The new church for the new gods? Can’t promise that’s the last of the Game of Thrones tags.

I’m walking along the Victoria lines. A British series of forts and defences on the escarpment that runs across Malta. The idea was to defend the east end of the Island from landings by the Germans/Italians on the west end beaches. Looks like it was just in time as the German navy is in the bay.

A lovely dry track. How I missed it later in the clay. I’m stopping in Golden bay where that three building hotel is poking up above a few headlands.

One of the Pill boxes. I have no idea how the squaddies coped with the wet clay on their old army boots. Maybe, they never had any. Slippy as fuck coming down the slope.

The Colonel’s seat to watch the boys march past.

Down the slope carrying an extra Kg of clay on the boots. They be great. Holding my ankle nice and tight.

Oops! There’s been a tiff. She’s in one little reservoir ...

While he’s in the one next door. Can’t even bring himself to look at her.

The little river has cut so far down through the cliff it is almost at the bottom. Gorgeous blue bay. No way down for a swim.

OK. From higher up, there just might be. If you are a good rock climber.

A nice little landslide. They named the storm, Helios.

Brill cat weathervane. I’m up round that headland next.

Jesus! Need to get that bear Balloo on the phone. A whole street of Paw Paw (not really it’s Agave, but close).

The damn cats have followed and are restricting the flow.

A look back at the escarpment. Some soldier up there must have been as good as Esme. 3 neat holes in one leaf from at least a mile away.

Heading down to that beach car park and a nice cold drink.

Oh fuck! That clay! When wet it is nastier that a salt water croc with rabies and a Kalashnikov. I’m down from the ridge.

The mini diggers have been hard at work putting the beach back from where it ended up.

Up the hill to that tower. There are loads of these waisted-type watch towers from the Knights of Malta days. It is a scabby clay path though.

Getting closer. Just have to scale that somehow. Now, I’ve been dreading this bit, but there are hundreds of snails out on the clay trails. Can’t take any photos ‘cos even though I think I missed them all, the previous climbers didn’t give them a thought. The carnage is vast.

A look back at the Victoria lines and the nice little bay, before I start the final assault.

Inhabited long ago. I wonder how they dragged the old aurochs carcasses up there?

I’m up. In later years the little add-on stored the gun powder for the single cannon on the roof.

This is the landscape, especially around the coasts. It is called Garrigue. Limestone boulders and outcrops, interspaced with sparse grasses and low shrubs. Thyme loves it. The little, rough huts are everywhere as well. Refuge from the sun.

Quick! Launch the bombers. The German navy is escaping.

It was a clever ruse. They are still unloading the Sturmtruppen. Note the strange scree slope.

Down into the bay and up the rivers of wet clay. I overtook a family, two parents, two kids in their trainers. My God! What a mess. They had fallen a few times and it was everywhere.

Another one, not three miles from the last. This one is falling into the sea.

The last descent and a welcome cappuccino and water.

I’ve decided to carry on to try to get my miles up, even if I can’t get the rise and fall needed for Portugal. A nice horsey hack – not too hot yet.

An Italian couple were coming up behind me. They seemed a little faster than me, so I did the graceful thing of stopping for a photo to let them go past. Not a word came from them. She had a gob on that would curdle milk and he had that look, ‘She won’t even let me apologise and I have no idea what I did wrong.’ So, how did I know that they were Italian?

I’ve stepped back a bit now but I’m still shaking inside. Bad rookie mistake – don’t know what’s wrong with me. The couple weren’t moving fast enough, so I starting reading about the next bit of the trip on my phone while I continued walking. Went about 50ms, then thankfully, I looked up from it. I was heading for that edge, just two more phone-hooked steps from a premature end. Remember. Mourn a little but laugh a lot.

From the top of the headland. They were light weights – couldn’t take the climb – passed them easily and they in their 30’s. I was blowing like a train, as I tend to do going up the hills and as I came up behind them I heard her say, ‘Vaffencullo.’ That, as the class all knows is my fav Italian phrase, ‘Fuck You.’ But when I looked back it was directed at him, not me.

These paths are much better, though loads of loose stones and shit.

Next tower. Suddenly loads of peeps around. Must be car access. Damn!

This one is slightly older and a different style but attracts the T word. I can’t even bring myself to say it. Fuckers swarming. Don’t know why I’m so down on the tourists, for after all, I am one myself. It is the crowding and the cars, all forcing me away from my peaceful mindset.

Heading down into the next valley towards that sort of red roof, top rightish and to a small surprise. I did wonder why it is called that.

I’m glad this one isn’t wet. But God! am I feeling good. three miles to go, the sun’s out and on my back. A nice breeze is in my face and all is right with the world.

Popeye Village! Yep. Was built here in the middle of nowhere for the Robin Williams film. Jesus, more money than sense doesn’t even come close. Now it is a big T attraction. Hordes. Let me out of here.

The Red Keep. I wonder if those naughty Lannisters are home? Told ya!

The last few hundred metres are along the main drag, but look! They planted little lemon trees in the verge. Great.

Back in Ghadira where I started yesterday. I noticed outdoor Volleyball courts mentioned on my Google maps thing but couldn’t see them. Might be behind that hotel on right, Alex.