Day 4: Calypso’s Island

As background since I didn’t know until I came here, Malta has three main islands: Malta (most southern of the three, and the largest), Gozo (most northern of the three, and the second-largest), and Comino (central, and the smallest of the three). Most scholars believe Calypso’s Island to have been Gozo, and some identified one specific cave in Ramla Bay that has been named “Calypso’s Cave”.

Unfortunately, that cave isn’t safe to explore so it’s closed off, though there are many other caves in Gozo. Given that, my approach was to figure out how to explore the caves in Gozo and Comino in general. I did this in two main ways: kayaking through the caves in Gozo/Comino and a sunset cruise along the caves in Gozo/Comino as well as snorkeling + swimming and diving in the Blue Lagoon.

I took the ferry in the morning from Lascaris Wharf Terminal in Valletta to Mgarr Harbour in Gozo, then Ubered from the port there to Hondoq Bay, located in Qala in southwestern Gozo. There, I met up with my kayaking group and had a quick refresher:

Then, the adventure started. Things felt smooth initially. As soon as I felt overconfident about five minutes in, I called to the Olympians above, jeering and challenging them: Was this all Odysseus and his crew faced? Was this the sea that held all manner of monsters who threatened his homecoming? He’s a so-called “hero”? Big mistake. Almost immediately, as we forged further into the channel, I could feel the power and weight of the Mediterranean Sea gathering force. My weight shifted from side to side, my paddle feeling as though it were a mere twig mixing through syrup, the hand of Poseidon himself seemingly knocking me off course and aiming to prolong my journey for my hubris. He hated Odysseus, and perhaps not just this trip but my arrogance, too, reminded him of that man. The salty sea sent my body tumbling this way and that, causing me to take breaks in between short, intense bursts of kayaking. My eyes stung from the salt, rendering one eye almost unable to open from the amount of salt in it. A cruel irony, indeed, from Poseidon that — intending to understand Odysseus — so, too, would I be forced to understand the plight of his son, the one-eyed Cyclops, Polyphemus, as I traversed the frigid waters.

Ultimately, we made it to Comino after what felt like eons, my shoulders aching. This, however, allowed for a nice break with some swimming and cliff jumping. And I was lucky enough to get a great picture out of it:

We forged onward. We kayaked through menacing caves with jagged edges, all the while being tossed around by the blue waters. The water was, in fact, so blue — and the sky so clear — that the universe itself felt like a blanket where the only thing that existed was this quest to paddle through until we reached shore our at starting destination.

The beauty of the beaches we came across, the caves we saw, the water we splashed through is impossible to describe. I have seen few things quite so beautiful in my life. As an example:

We finally reached shore after 3 hours of kayaking, my body certainly still carrying the memory of its battles with the Ancient Greek gods half a day later.

That ended around midday but the inconsistency in the afternoon ferry schedule back to Valletta made me late for my intended half-day sunset catamaran cruise and snorkeling trip — so I missed that. But, if I have learned anything here, it is to know of a certain sense of courage. So I took the opportunity to ask if they could help me in any way and they boarded me without asking any questions onto another cruise an hour later (unfortunately not a catamaran and no snorkeling, though). Yet I’m glad I did, because those views were even more beautiful than in the morning — and yes, I do have many pictures:

We ended up sailing all around Gozo and Comino, docking in the Blue Lagoon for a couple hours to eat, drink, snorkel, and swim and dive to our hearts’ content. There, we watched the sunset and then finally headed back once night had fallen.

It had been a long time since I had last marveled at the beauty of the night sky but I found myself doing so tonight as we sailed back. Surrounded by the dark sea and starry sky, I felt another sense of being blanketed but this time, by hope: small moments throughout today to be certain, but I again had chosen courage. I couldn’t help but feel comforted by that and a recognition of the semi-permanence of stars. The same ones I looked at tonight were the same ones Odysseus did when he sailed in this sea, the same ones I admired with my parents sleeping in the backyard as a kid. Alone as I may be in this foreign land, I couldn’t help but find comfort in that thought, connected across space and time to both people I love and people who may have been more myth than real, knowing that the agency and choice to appreciate courage and beauty exists for all of us for the entirety of our days.