I’ve ditched C3, who’s gone looking for R2 and gone running. It’s a contest of wills between the caffeine I’m mainlining and last night’s red wine as to which will pour out my pores first. Either way, it’s not pleasant, so I’ve started counting lizards to distract myself. I make a rule to only count bonafide lizards. Imaginary lizards don’t count.
What is pleasant is Wied Il-Ghasri, where turquoise sea water bisects cliffs, providing a semi-secluded area to swim, for those in the know. Unfortunately, there are quite a few people in the know, but it’s still less crowded than most other swimming spots I’ve seen in Malta so far. Swimming in salt water and running aren’t the best of companions, so I’m back up the steep stairs without even dipping a toe.
Soon, I’m literally flying down the trails mere metres from drop offs to oblivion. The Imp of the Peverse is fueled up on coffee today, too, and is whispering in my ear. Running faster makes him burn out and fade away.
There’s so much splendor here, my head is spinning round like an extra in the Exorcist movie. Sea caves and lizards make themselves present at every turn. It almost hurts, how much beauty is in one place. Maybe, I’m imagining this or it’s some caffeine-induced hallucination. Even if it is, I’m not forfeiting any of my lizards, though.
It’s hard to believe but as I’m running along the dirt road, I start gaining on the car ahead. I drop in behind the car and start pumping my arms like the T-1000 in Terminator 2. The driver sees me in the rear vision mirror and floors it to escape.
At this pace, it isn’t long before I’ve reached the target of the run, Wied Il-Mielah. With the collapse of the Azure Window, this is supposed to be the new go to Gozo arch site.
Difficult access roads seem to be limiting tourists so far. They aren’t going to stop cyborgs, but cyborgs don’t tend to go in much for scenic spots. There are stairs leading down to the bottom of the inlet, similar to Wied Il-Ghasri, but a locked gate half-heartedly is preventing access. Maybe its locked in case the giant boulder seemingly stuck to the side of the cliff wall gives way. I wonder who threw the boulder there. Maybe the same people that Ggantija Temple down the raod. The gate is easy to circumvent, but if no ones here to see me do it, will I really have gone down? Taking a selfie would easily ruin this philosophical thought experiment. Taking a selfie would also ruin all my self dignity.
In the distance, on a hill should be a light. Not shimmering, but strong, if it’s doing its job properly. The beacon is my next port of call.
It’s taken far too long, in lizard counting years, to reach the top of the hill. It’s steep getting up and probably inaccessible by car, although C3 might have something to say about that. What’s supposed to be the pretty Gordan Lighthouse now resembles something like a Dalek nightmare. Cries of Exterminate! Exterminate! are soon drowned out by the lyrics from If You Could Read My Mind. Lighthouse’s named Gordon remind me too much of certain folk-pop singers, I guess.
The views across the Gozitan countryside are spectacular and make up for Gordon’s Dalek. I’ve got to get back down the hill and then up another to Zebbug, so can’t dally. I’m currently at 32 lizards and a Black Whip Snake, possibly a reincarnate version of one I saw in Cyprus previously. I’m thinking about cashing in the snake for more lizards but only willing to do so if I get ten lizards in return. Lizards are the equivalent of the New Zealand peso - cheap and getting cheaper.
I’m now close to home. This run has taken me longer than I first thought and wanted. So much, I’m even beginning to miss C3. The Zebbug Parish Church is guiding me home. A stunning church dedicated to Santa Marija it is figuratively covered with the semi-precious stone onyx and consecrated in 1726. Looking closer, there appears to be something unusual looking to the right of the main dome. Could it be?