The fishing village of Marsaxlokk

Julie

I’m still in bed when Greg starts hauling up the anchor at seven in the morning. Not long after, I’m woken by the beeping of the engine and the rattling of the chain. Finn snuggles closer to me and hides behind a cushion. I jump out of bed and ask why we’re leaving so early. Greg just shrugs: he’d been awake for a while, didn’t know what else to do, so he figured, why not head for Marsaxlokk already? The passage is about 17 miles, but there isn’t a breath of wind. The sea is flat as glass and the heat is relentless. As soon as we approach the industrial harbour, we know we’re almost there. The fishing village of Marsaxlokk is tucked away behind this industrial area. The anchorage isn’t exactly pretty, but according to the reviews the village is worth visiting. Getting the anchor to hold, however, turns out to be a real challenge. The first time it lands between flat rocks, dangerously close to a shallow. The second time I think we’re too close to our French neighbors. The third time the anchor refuses to dig in. The fourth time we end up too close to a quay where big tugboats dock. Finally, on the fifth attempt, it holds more or less. Still, we’re right in front of the quay, staring at three ugly smokestacks. We decide not to stay. After a quick visit to an overpriced Spar supermarket and a fantastic fish shop, we pick up the anchor again and move to the bay around the corner. Much prettier, much calmer. I dive straight into the water. The temperature shifts dramatically: warm on the surface, icy cold as soon as I dive deeper. In the evening, we set ourselves up on deck to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Unfortunately, the industrial glow in the distance creates too much light pollution. We only catch a few shooting stars. The cats, on the other hand, love having us out there; they’re thrilled to lie up front on deck with us. Greg heads to bed, while I stay a little longer with Nelly. Half an hour later I wake up, still lying there with her beside me. I pick her up and we head inside together. The next morning I can feel right away it’s going to be another scorching day. I jump into the water first thing and scrub the side of the boat a little. I keep wondering where those black streaks and little scratches have come from. The swim barely cools me down. In the meantime, we discover our SUP has developed a big bubble, like a paint blister. I don’t dare use it, afraid it might give out. Thankfully, the SUP itself isn’t damaged, the blister is only in the top layer. What a relief!

Boat & Crew

El Burro

Swallow Craft Design Group, Swift 33

Gregory Ramis Ferriol

Owner

Finn

Pet, Male

Nelly

Pet, Female

Julie

Owner