Day 29: Walking On My Own


Dedicated to: Angela Dixon & the Wrong Direction Team



Did you know that Malta is the only entire country to have been awarded The George Cross for bravery? It was in 1941, when the island country was a British colony, suffering round the clock air strikes from German bombers and its resources were totally depleted. I wonder if a medal from King George seemed a poor consolation given the circumstances, yet its image is now woven into the country’s flag.  


I learnt that at the National War Museum in the country’s capital Valletta when I went there on my holiday last year. I’d promised Bill that I’d still go on our winter holiday every year, yet when the time came I found that I couldn’t bear to visit the same resort we’d always gone to on the Algarve without him. My friend Laura suggested Malta because it was impossible to get lost there.


I looked up the coastal walk and thought I should be able to get around most of it in a week. When I told my son Greg, he said, ‘Mum you’re 77, are you sure about this?’ I told him I thought it was high time I went on my first trip by myself, after all wasn’t Izzy travelling around Thailand by herself when she was only 19? He rolled his eyes and helped me to book it.


And so I went to Malta. I arrived at my hotel at 6.30pm on a warm Wednesday evening, checked in, got changed and walked to a local restaurant ran by a Croatian brother and sister. I had a red wine and spaghetti bolognaise and read my book.


My hotel was in St. Julians. I set off on the first day, keeping the sea to my left and walked to Valletta, where I visited the Parliament, the opera house and the museums. I continued to the ancient three cities. I had lunch and read in my Lonely Planet guide about how the first of the three was settled by the Phoenicians.


Every night, after a day of walking between 10 and 15 miles, I took a bus or a taxi back to my hotel, went to the same restaurant and had red wine and something different from the menu. I emailed my son a ‘selfie’ and pictures from my walks. Every morning, I took a bus or a taxi back to where I’d left off and carried on walking, with the coast on my left.  


I went to a Neolithic temple, full of cats, walked over giant cliffs and along the sandy beaches of Golden Bay. I went in every church I saw and lit a candle for Bill. I visited a nature reserve and watched the birds. I went in every castle and fort, paid my entrance fee and read the pieces of information on every artefact. I took pictures of other tourists and they took pictures of me, with old buildings and beautiful waters behind me.


On my seventh day, before my shuttle came to take me to the airport at 5.00pm, I walked from St. Paul’s Bay to St. Julian’s, with the coast on my left and the rest of the world on my right. I had my last red wine at the restaurant.


When Greg picked me up from Heathrow just before midnight, the first thing he said was,

“you look good mum.”

“Yes” I said, “I’ve walked 96 miles.”





Words: 565

Challenge/theme: coastlines

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