First-time scuba diving in Malta

All photo credits: Simon Rogerson

SCUBA Editor Simon Rogerson has a glaring omission in his logbook, but he’s finally done something about it. 

It’s true. I made it through 32 years of diving without visiting what might just be the Med’s most popular dive spot. Determined to rectify this, I found myself in a taxi last October, heading from the airport to Cirkewwa on the northwest coast of the sun-baked island of Malta. 

I was in search of Paradise, specifically Paradise Bay Hotel. Perched on a headland, the hotel towers ominously, but it’s well-appointed and has a vast buffet, ideal for weary divers in need of a no-fuss dining solution. If you stay here, bear in mind there are no other eateries else within walking range, though the hotel has a decent à la carte restaurant. As it happens, it’s down on the beach next to Paradise Dive Centre… let’s head over there.

Paradise Bay Resort; the dive centre is on the beach, to the right

Paradise regained 

I am welcomed by dive centre co-owner Neville McLellan, who delights in bemusing young Europeans with a barrage of northern English. “Ey-oop!” he says by way of greeting as a Gen Z dive guide saunters into the centre. “Let’s get a brew on, shall we?” A box of Tetley the size of a wheelie-bin is produced and we get down to business.  

[L] a mauve stinger; [R] friendly octopus at Wied iz-Zurrieq

My first diving day takes place at Cirkewwa Marine Park. On one side of the headland there’s the ferry terminal for Gozo; on the other are some of Malta’s favourite dive sites. The entry points at Cirkewwa are fairly straightforward, but there’s always scope to fall over when the concrete ramp gets slippery. Keep a tight grip on the rails, be patient with fellow divers… take your time.  

Underwater, it’s lovely: 25 metres of viz, a thick expanse of seagrass giving way to white sand and rocky topography. I was surprised by how quickly the reef drops off down to the seabed at 32 metres, via a series of walls and ledges.  

A painted comber shelters behind a bryozoan

We arrived at the Arch and took a few photos, but the third part of our buddy team was on a learning curve, so his needs took priority. We retraced our route, pausing to inspect the various tunnels and swim-throughs along the way.  

Malta isn’t exactly the fishiest place I’ve ever dived, but you do see frequent schools of saddled seabream and their cousins, the common pandora. I saw a large dusky grouper edging warily towards a crack in the reef, only to disappear into a hole in the cliff as soon as it realised I had clocked it.

Wrecks and recreation

Surface intervals are nice in Malta. During my October visit the water was 24°C and the air temperature about the same during the day. There were always plenty of divers milling around, fussing their kit or queuing at the sandwich van. They were all happy happy, either looking forward to a dive or buzzing with post-dive dopamine. 

Built for strength: the heavyset bow of the tugboat Rozi

Much of Cirkewwa’s popularity rests on two wrecks, the P29 Patrol Boat and the tugboat Rozi. I was joined by the gaffer himself, Neville, for my visit to P29, which started with a mid-water swim from the entry point at Susie’s Pool. Before long the outline of the wreck appeared below us and Neville signalled our descent to deck level.

P29 was a Kondor-class minesweeper built in East Germany in the 1960s and then used for border patrols in Malta until being decommissioned in 2004. The ship was purchased by Malta Tourism Authority to be environmentally cleaned and sunk as a diver attraction in 2007, sitting at a maximum depth of 38m at the bows.  

Neville brings out the big guns on the P29

It’s an enjoyable dive, still fully intact and sitting upright on white sand. Even in clear water there was no way I could photograph the entire ship, so I followed Neville around shooting detail of the deck features and the communications tower, enveloped by a school of silvery bogues. 

[L] Seaweed trails from the bow of the patrol boat P29; [R] dive guide Melodie enters the tunnel from the Inland Sea

The wreck is bearded with seaweed that sways gently, indicating the light current moving across the site. This made it tricky to venture beyond the protection of the main structure. I settled for photographs of Neville posing with the deck gun, which I suspect was welded on just before the boat was sunk, as there’s no sign of it on archive photographs.  

The second of Cirkewwa’s big wrecks is the Tugboat Rozi, built in Bristol in 1958 and sold to a Maltese towage firm in 1972. She was sunk as an artificial reef in 1992, primarily as an attraction for a tourist submarine. These days, the only visitors are divers, but the Rozi is a popular feature at Cirkewwa, sharing star billing with the P29.  

We entered the water via a set of steps at the south end of the lighthouse, navigating the reef and seagrass until the Rozi’s stately form materialised. All due respect, I’d describe the Rozi as a bit of a thumper, a heavy-duty working vessel built for durability. Still, as we approached the wreck, I found myself admiring the curve of the stern. With the white sand standing in contrast to the margin of the seagrass, it’s a beautiful scene. As you sometimes find with sizeable wrecks and clear water, there is a sense of space and geometry, the only sign of life a few bream sheltering in the (propless) area behind the rudder. 

Going to Gozo

After losing a day to wind, Neville packed me off with the Frenchies, Raphael and Melodie, and we took the ferry over to Gozo, travelling across the island in the centre’s trusty van. Our destination was Dwejra, site of the much-feted Inland Sea and Blue Hole sites. We started at the Inland Sea, a shallow lake linked to the sea by a tunnel. For centuries, it must have provided a perfectly protected harbour for small fishing boats. Today, it’s a playground for divers, who share the space with tourist boats making the same journey through the tunnel. 

Raphael scoots around the Faroud' superstructure

As you enter the tunnel from the Inland Sea, you pass through an area of shimmering light before entering the shadowy tunnel. The atmosphere gradually builds as you make your way towards open sea, and the subdued light gathers into a deep cobalt blue as you emerge on the other side. It’s diving as theatre, a slow reveal of Maltese blues, framed by the tunnel exit.  

Out on the reef we saw parrotfish, mauve stingers and – a personal triumph –a painted comber next to a colourful bryozoan. Fish photography is not easy in Malta, though I suspect a night dive would yield more opportunities. 

[L] Cow bream on the Posidonia oceanica seagrass; [R] returning to the Inland Sea

We enjoyed lunch at a little café on the pebble shore; a Gozo salad for me, burgers for the gourmands. After that we jumped in the van and headed over to the entry point for the Blue Hole. The hole itself is about 10 metres wide and 15 deep, offering a sheltered spot for swimmers and freedivers, who test their ability by swimming down lines. Underwater, the Blue Hole has a cave section and is connected to the open sea through an opening in the rock face at about 7m. The interplay of water, light and shade make it a Gozo classic. 

Moving through the tunnel, we headed for the fallen sections of what had been Azure Window. This area has been renamed the Azure Alps or Azure Reef, depending on who’s giving the briefing. The collapsed arch has broken into enormous pieces, forming an ersatz Alpine range. I know that sounds borderline ridiculous, but when you see a tiny diver at the base of one of the giant rocks, there is an awe-inspiring sense of scale.  

Raphael is dwarfed by the fallen limestone sections of the Azure Window

After the dive we looked out across a beautiful lagoon to Fungus Rock, a 60-metre-high limestone island. The rock is named for a parasitic flowering plant used by the Knights Hospitaller for its (unproven) mystical properties. 

Blue to gold

For my final dive day, I requested a visit to the Um El Faroud shipwreck, off the village of Wied iz-Zurrieq. We made our way down the steep road to the entry point, a beautiful inlet known as the Blue Grotto. 

Bow winch on the Faroud

Waiting at the entry point was Paradise Diving’s co-owner, Rob Fergusson, who had brought along his little friends, SUEX scooters. Apparently, it can be a bit of a slog finning to the Faroud from shore, but Diver Propulsion Vehicles make it a lot more civilised. 

We arrived at the wreck after five minutes of scootering. I felt weirdly leaden as I tied off the scooter and resumed use of limbs and fins while sizing up photo opportunities. My fellow divers felt no such obligation and remained tethered to their scooters while I tried to shoot them on the move. 

The Faroud is a big wreck – 110m long with the prop and rudder at 36 metres. Keen to maximise our time, we stayed at deck level using the scooters to navigate the entire structure. The wreck is broken in two and there’s plenty of scope to explore inside, but with the distraction of DPVs that was never going to happen. There’s no place for subtlety on a DPV dive; it’s all about keeping up with the guy in front. 

The Dwejra coastline, with Fungus Rock front left

There’s a lot to see on the Faroud, and even with the benefit of my scooter I was only beginning to appreciate its features. Certainly, it was the biggest and best of the three wrecks I visited. The good thing about its scale is that it can accommodate several groups without a sense of crowding.  

We made our way back to the inlet, making brief detours to harass diving groups unfortunate enough not to be equipped with DPVs. As we arrived, the afternoon sun had broken through the cloud, turning the Blue Grotto gold; alchemy in action. Malta diving? Yep – been there, done that… would really like to do it again. 

Ferries for Gozo at Cirkewwa port

Article ‘’I've never been to Malta!’ by Simon Rogerson first published in SCUBA magazine, Issue 155 May 2025.