On the Azure Window … that is no more
At around 9.20 a.m., on Wednesday 8 March 2017, the most attractive geological fault in Gozo’s coastline, disappeared … it crushed into the deep blue sea beneath. It succumbed to the furious pounding mighty waves of the north westerly rough seas that had been raging all the night before. The ‘Azure Window’ that was … is now no more!
We Gozitans always used to refer to the iconic geological feature on the west cliffy coast of the island of Gozo, as It-Tieqa tadDwejra (‘The Window at Dwejra’). This does not simply indicate that the natural fault was in Dwejra, but also to distinguish it from another – not so popular – similar natural fault, also called It-Tieqa, found at the end of one side of picturesque deep Wied il-Mielaħ (‘The Salty Valley’) on the outskirts of Għarb, which we refer to as It-Tieqa ta’ Wied il-Mielaħ, hence ‘The Window of Wied il-Mielaħ.’
Access to the latter window is not easy. If not from on a boat at sea, one may have a glimpse of this phenomenon after a long walk on the right-hand side of Wied il-Mielaħ, which joins the sea on the northern coast of Gozo. And yet, even then, this awe-inspiring window, whose rock is dark grey in colour, cannot be enjoyed like the one in Dwejra.
This fault-window seems as if it had been cut by man, rather than formed by nature; the inner top and sides have almost perfect plane surfaces! Moreover, while the one in Dwejra naturally framed a breath-taking scene of cliffs, sea, and sky, and could be enjoyed at eye-level from the land across, the one guarding the estuary of the valley has no scenic background except the frightening dark deep blue sea below from on land, or the rock of the other side of the valley from at sea.
What’s in a name?
I wonder if anybody ever cared to ask why the Dwejra window had been described as ‘azure.’ I think that the adjective ‘azure’ was bestowed on her from that of a sea cave at the bottom of the cliffs on the opposite side, in Dwejra: ‘IżŻerqa’ (‘The Blue [One]’). It is so called because of the clear blue sea as seen within ... like that which may be enjoyed in the ‘Blue Grotto’ in Malta.
The roots /Ż-R-Q/ for ‘blue’ in Maltese are found in żerqa and the name of the village Żurrieq (in Malta) and may perhaps be traceable also in the name ‘Zurich’ in Swizerland.
The first time I had a view of Dwejra’s It-Tieqa was when I was still a child. I joined a group of oratory boys whom Fr Luigi Mizzi, SDB, the director of St John Bosco Oratory in Victoria, sometime in the late 1940s or very early 1950s, took on foot to Dwejra bay where we spent the rest of the day playing on the small pebbly beach around, and swimming in the shallow waters of the Inland Sea. Before we returned to Victoria, someone had taken us to see ItTieqa! It was marvellous. It was gigantic! It was enchanting! It was a sight I never forgot in my life!
One day, in this beautiful and geologically important place, a few metres away from some prehistoric cart-ruts, Fr Mizzi built a chapel dedicated to St Anne where it still stands today, enjoying devotion towards Our Lady’s mother and Jesus’ grandmother.
Since then I have remained ever fascinated by the view, striking, and frightening, facing the rage of north-westerly winds and rough seas, sometimes with sea-waves dashing and beating against its rock stack, creating mesmerizing white clouds of flying sea spray that rushes even above it, breaking up into millions of eroding salty particles.
The Azure Window was a natural arch with a height of about 28 m and a span of around 25 m. It was located at the tip of a headland known as ‘Dwejra Point’ and in Maltese ‘L-Ixprun’ (‘The Spur’) - a name descriptive of the formation protruding out from the main land. It was ‘made’ of two types of Lower Coralline Limestone, known as Member A which formed the pillar or stack, and base, and Member B which formed the upper layer, including most of the unsupported arch.
Once I had started working on a paper on the names of places on the coast of Gozo. In my study on toponymy, I had met with several short papers and similar studies, and I thought the names of places on the Gozitan coast – the majority of which are Semitic – might provide an interesting study. It was my intention to present this paper at a conference organized by the International Committee of Onomastic Sciences (of which I am a member) in Aberdeen, in Scotland, in 1996. Eventually, the study grew into a book which I published in January of the new millennium; it was the first book published in 2000: The Placenames of the Coast of Gozo (Malta), profusely illustrated, and includes reproductions of rare photos and maps, and an inserted folding contour map of Gozo.
When I came to the choice of an illustration for the cover, my eyes fell on a photo which had been given to me by a neighbour, Mr Carmel Grima; a photo of the Azure Window in Dwejra, taken from on a boat out at sea. The most popular photos of the window were taken from on land, on the other side. This was, hence, an unusual picture.
Later on, the Ministry for Gozo accepted to organize a launching evening for my book, in the hall of the ministry in Victoria. The Hon. Ms Giovanna Debono, then minister for Gozo, honoured me with her presence and a closing speech, after I delivered a short talk about the contents of my book.
When, at the end, I presented her with a copy of the book, we talked about the beauty of Gozo’s shoreline, and especially about the Azure Window and its attraction. I mentioned the deteriorating state of the window, and told her that, since I have been collecting photos and postcards of the place, I had noticed that part of the rock forming the arch had already fallen off.
‘What can be done?’ was one of the questions Ms Debono asked. ‘There seems to be no solution to the erosion; cracks in the rock on both of the inner sides of the window already reveal where the next casualties will occur.’
Since then, at least two large chunks of rock – one from underneath the top, the other from one side of the fault – have given way and distorted the otherwise rectangular shape of the window I knew in my childhood days.
The next to collapse, unfortunately, would possibly be the last part of the upper arch of the window; that is what many thought and conjectured.
Twelve years after the launching of my book, the press and the authorities were eager to record for posterity, perhaps the last beautiful, breath-taking, and attractive photos of this phenomenal attraction, as the possibility of salvaging what remained was being discussed!
Today, five years later, in a matter of seconds, after resisting for so many many years, and suffering the battering of the heavy waves of the north westerly rough seas, it eventually gave way.
It was on 8 March 2017, at about 10.30 a.m., that my wife phoned me up and gave me the news! I was shocked and could not alienate my mind from the incident all day. I still cannot believe the Azure Window is gone forever! It has been said: ‘Nature giveth and Nature taketh!’ What a loss!