Day 2

The trail from Il-Manikata towards Popeye Village feels less like a simple coastal walk and more like stepping into the quieter soul of Malta. Away from the honey-coloured cities and bustling seaside cafés, the landscape here opens into a windswept world of limestone cliffs, dusty trails, and low stone walls that seem to guide you gently towards the sea. The Mediterranean appears suddenly and dramatically at every turn, impossibly blue against the pale earth, while the scent of wild thyme and salt hangs in the warm air. 

As the route enters Il-Majjistral Nature and History Park, you quickly understand why this stretch of coastline became Malta’s first national park. The area protects rugged cliffs, garigue landscapes, rare endemic plants, and centuries of rural heritage spread across nearly untouched terrain. The name “Majjistral” itself comes from the northwestern wind that constantly shapes this coast, carving the cliffs and carrying waves against the rocks below.

Walking here feels wonderfully elemental. There are no forests or alpine peaks to distract you — only open horizons, rocky paths, and the endless conversation between land and sea. 

The terrain is marked by pale limestone, crumbling clay slopes, and patches of hardy Mediterranean vegetation that somehow survive under the fierce Maltese sun. In spring, tiny wildflowers emerge between the rocks, adding soft colours to an otherwise rugged and sunburnt landscape. 

What makes this walk especially memorable is the feeling of space. Malta is a small island, yet this corner feels surprisingly remote.

The paths wind across wide plateaus where the only sounds are seabirds, distant waves, and the crunch of limestone beneath your shoes.

Small hidden coves appear beneath the cliffs, and on clear days you can spot the island of Gozo rising softly from the horizon. The coastline here was shaped over thousands of years by erosion, with softer blue clay collapsing beneath limestone layers to create dramatic rock formations and secluded bays.

Further along the route stands Għajn Żnuber Tower, a lonely limestone structure overlooking the sea. The tower dates back to the nineteenth century and once served as a rural lookout and anti-smuggling post. Restored in recent years, it now quietly watches over the protected coastline much as it did decades ago. Standing beside it, with Gozo faintly visible on the horizon and waves crashing below, it is easy to imagine sailors, soldiers, and farmers using this same vantage point long before modern hiking trails existed.

Birdwatchers often come here during migration seasons, while photographers wait patiently for golden hour when the cliffs turn warm amber beneath the setting sun. The openness of the landscape creates a rare sense of calm that lingers long after the hike ends.

Along this path bird hunting remains one of the island’s most controversial yet deeply rooted traditions. During the day hidden stone hides scattered across the landscape begin to stir with activity as hunters prepare for the seasonal migration routes passing between Europe and Africa. From a distance, the scene feels almost timeless — weathered men sitting quietly among dry stone walls, scanning the sky over windswept fields and dramatic coastal cliffs. For many locals, hunting is not simply a sport but a cultural inheritance passed through generations, tied closely to rural identity and life outside Malta’s urban centers.

The highlight for many walkers is the distant glimpse of Popeye Village tucked inside Anchor Bay. From above, the colourful wooden houses look almost unreal against the turquoise water below.

What began as a film set for the 1980 Popeye movie starring Robin Williams somehow survived long after filming ended and became one of Malta’s quirkiest landmarks.

Built using thousands of wooden planks imported from Canada and the Netherlands, the village today feels equal parts film nostalgia and seaside fantasy.

There are also traces of history hidden quietly across the park. Ancient cart ruts cut into stone, old farmhouses, corbelled huts, wartime structures, and forgotten shelters all appear unexpectedly beside the trail. 

Some date back centuries, others to British military occupation during the twentieth century. Malta’s strategic position in the Mediterranean meant these cliffs were once carefully watched, defended, and used by generations who depended on the sea both for survival and protection.

Farmers still work small plots here, often growing vegetables, olives, or keeping goats close to the coast. It creates a lovely contrast: the wilderness of the cliffs meeting the slow rhythm of rural life.

The sea itself constantly steals attention on this route. Depending on the light, the water shifts between deep sapphire, turquoise, and silver.

The tradition of  bird hunting exists within constant tension between heritage and conservation. Malta sits directly along one of the Mediterranean’s most important migratory bird routes, making the island both ecologically significant and politically debated. Conversations about hunting often divide public opinion, balancing respect for old customs with growing environmental concerns and European wildlife protections. Yet even beyond the controversy, the western landscape itself leaves a strong impression — endless stone terraces, abandoned farmhouses, salty sea winds, and the feeling of standing at the edge of Europe watching birds cross entire continents overhead.

By the time the trail loops back towards Il-Manikata, the walk feels like much more than a short hike. It becomes a journey through Malta’s quieter identity — one built not only on beaches and historic cities, but also on windswept cliffs, resilient nature, old stone walls, and communities deeply connected to the landscape around them.

It is the kind of route that reminds you how beautiful simplicity can be: just a dusty path, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly ahead, and the feeling that for a few hours, life has slowed down completely. 

The circular route from Il-Manikata through Għajn Tuffieħa and Ġnejna Bay is one of those walks that captures the raw, untamed beauty of western Malta almost immediately.

The trail winds along rugged coastal cliffs and narrow dirt paths overlooking some of the island’s most spectacular bays, where the Mediterranean shifts between deep sapphire and bright turquoise depending on the light.

 With every step, the landscape feels both dramatic and calming at the same time — wide open skies, rolling hills, and endless sea stretching towards the horizon.

One of the most striking features of this route is the unusual clay landscape surrounding Għajn Tuffieħa. The steep grey slopes, shaped by centuries of erosion, create a scene that feels almost otherworldly compared to the rest of Malta. During the wetter months, the hills turn green and soft with vegetation, while summer transforms them into dusty golden ridges beneath the intense Mediterranean sun. The winding paths across these slopes make the hike feel adventurous without ever losing its peaceful atmosphere.

Walking between the two bays, the trail constantly rewards you with panoramic viewpoints across the coastline. The cliffs are home to seabirds gliding effortlessly above the waves, while the surrounding countryside is divided by traditional Maltese rubble walls built stone by stone over generations. Hikers, runners, photographers, and nature lovers all seem drawn to this route for the same reason: it offers a quieter and more authentic side of Malta far from the busy historic centres and crowded promenades.

There is also a deep sense of history hidden within the landscape. These coastlines were once watched carefully for pirates and invading fleets, and traces of Malta’s defensive past still linger in old paths, terraced fields, and distant watchtowers. Farming communities have shaped the hills for centuries, adapting to the harsh terrain and dry climate with remarkable resilience. Even today, the route feels timeless, where nature and local life continue to exist side by side much as they always have.

The fortified city of Mdina, also known as Citta Vecchia (Old Town), sometimes also as "The Silent city" served as Malta's capital from the antiquity to the medieval period. Mdina played an important role during the Punic Wars, where it was used as the administrative centre by the Romans.

There is a strange stillness to Mdina that you notice almost immediately after passing through its grand stone gate. The noise of modern Malta fades behind the fortified walls, replaced by the sound of footsteps echoing through narrow alleyways and church bells drifting through warm air.

After being destroyed at the end of the 9th century, the city was rebuild some 170 years later by the Muslims in Sicily and looked completely different than the former roman city. For centuries Mdina served as Malta’s capital before the Knights of St. John moved political power to Valletta. Yet despite losing its status, Mdina never lost its grandeur. Noble families continued to live behind heavy wooden doors and hidden courtyards, giving the city an aristocratic atmosphere that remains remarkably intact.

Throughout the centuries, Mdina was one of the main targets for the many invaders who arrived on Malta’s shores. Phoenicians, Romans, Arabs, Normans, and later the Knights of St. John all fought to control the fortified hilltop city because of its strategic importance at the center of the island. Yet despite wars, sieges, and constant threats, Mdina and the Maltese people always found ways to endure. Behind its massive stone walls, life continued through every changing empire, leaving the city layered with stories of resilience, survival, and quiet strength.

 Rabat is one of those places in Malta where culture, heritage and history beautifully intertwine. 

Rabat’s roots are deeply tied to both Roman and early Christian history. During Roman rule, the settlement expanded beyond Mdina’s walls, eventually developing into its own thriving community. Beneath the streets lies one of Malta’s most important archaeological treasures: the catacombs of St. Paul and St. Agatha. These underground burial chambers reveal the island’s early Christian history and offer a fascinating glimpse into life centuries before modern Malta emerged. Exploring the cool stone tunnels beneath Rabat feels both eerie and strangely peaceful.

Culture in Rabat revolves around community, religion, and tradition. Village festas remain an important part of life here, transforming the streets into explosions of fireworks, music, and decorations during the summer months. Families gather outdoors late into the evening, children play in public squares, and local bakeries continue producing traditional Maltese bread using methods passed down for generations. Rabat feels proudly local, resisting the polished international feel that tourism sometimes brings elsewhere on the island.

Just beyond the walls of Mdina, Rabat feels warmer, livelier, and unmistakably more local. While visitors often treat it as an extension of Mdina, Rabat has an entirely different rhythm. Here, laundry hangs between balconies, neighbors greet each other in narrow streets, and cafés fill with locals discussing football and politics over espresso. 

The town feels grounded and authentic in a way that contrasts beautifully with Mdina’s aristocratic stillness. Walking through Rabat feels less like visiting a museum and more like stepping into everyday Maltese life.

Architecturally, Rabat is less grand than Mdina but far more intimate. Narrow streets twist unpredictably between limestone houses, colorful wooden balconies lean above tiny alleyways, and old door knockers shaped like dolphins or lions decorate faded entrances. Small chapels appear unexpectedly between residential homes, while hidden courtyards reveal orange trees and stone staircases worn smooth over centuries. The beauty of Rabat lies in its imperfections. Nothing feels staged or overly restored, which gives the town its charm.

Mdina continued to serve as the island's capital until the arrival of the Order of St John in 1530. When the Order settled in Birgu (Vittoriosa) instead, Mdina lost its status as the capital city and experienced a period of decline.

Mdina feels suspended somewhere between reality and memory. Golden limestone buildings glow softly under the Mediterranean sun, and every quiet corner seems designed for wandering slowly rather than arriving anywhere in particular. 

Architecture in Mdina feels almost cinematic. Baroque palaces rise beside medieval walls, ornate balconies overlook impossibly narrow streets, and churches appear suddenly between quiet stone facades. The city was partially rebuilt after the devastating earthquake of 1693, which introduced elegant baroque elements while preserving its medieval character. Walking here at night is especially unforgettable. Lanterns cast soft shadows against limestone walls, the streets empty almost entirely, and the city feels closer to a film set than a functioning town. It is no surprise that productions like Game of Thrones used Mdina as a backdrop.

Unlike Valletta, Mdina is not a place driven by busy local life. Only a few hundred residents still live within the ancient walls, many belonging to old Maltese families who have remained here for generations. Daily life unfolds quietly behind shuttered windows and hidden gardens, giving the city an almost private feeling.

 Tourism now sustains much of Mdina’s economy, but even during the busiest months the city somehow preserves its calm elegance. Mdina is less about attractions and more about mood — a place where history, silence, and stone blend together into something deeply timeless.