Gozo’s Ramla Beach Saved from Illegal Sandblasting After NGO Tip-Off

Gozo’s Ramla l-Ħamra, the island’s russet-gold beach that once inspired Homer’s nymph Calypso, found itself at the centre of a modern-day battle last Saturday morning. At 6:43 a.m., volunteers from the local NGO Moviment Graffitti spotted a lone contractor sandblasting the façade of a private villa perched on the terraced cliffs that form part of the protected Natura 2000 buffer zone. The abrasive jet of silica ricocheted off the limestone, sending a fine white plume drifting toward the rare dune grasses that give Ramla its name.

“We thought it was early-morning mist until we smelled the chemical tang,” recalls Martina Pace, Graffitti’s on-site coordinator. “Then we saw the compressor, the hoses snaking down the footpath, and the operator wearing nothing more than a builder’s mask—no containment tent, no dust curtains, nothing.”

Under Malta’s Environmental Protection Act and the more specific Development Planning Act, any abrasive blasting within 200 metres of a scheduled or protected area requires a permit from the Planning Authority (PA) and a management plan approved by the Environment & Resources Authority (ERA). The villa, built in the late 1970s before stricter rules, lies barely 80 metres from the cliff edge that forms the Natura 2000 boundary. A quick check on the PA’s online portal that morning confirmed the owner had applied for a simple façade-cleaning licence—not the more rigorous sandblasting permit.

By 7:15 a.m., ERA enforcement officers had arrived. They issued an immediate stop order and confiscated the compressor and hoses. The individual, a 42-year-old contractor from Żebbuġ, Gozo, was cautioned and told to expect a formal summons. If prosecuted, he faces fines ranging from €10,000 to €50,000 or even imprisonment under the recently beefed-up environmental offences amendments.

Local residents, still sipping their first espresso at the Ramla kiosk, watched the drama unfold with a mix of vindication and fatigue. “We’ve seen it all before—illegal boathouses, pool extensions creeping closer to the cliff,” says Carmelina Attard, whose family has farmed the adjacent fields for four generations. “But sandblasting? That’s new. You can’t put a tent over the whole valley.”

Cultural reverence for Ramla runs deep. Legend claims the reddish hue of its sand comes from the robes of shipwrecked Saracens, while archaeologists have traced Bronze Age silos and Roman baths beneath the dunes. The beach is also the only known habitat in Malta for the endemic Pancratium maritimum, a ghostly white sea daffodil that blooms in late summer. Any airborne grit can scar the plant’s waxy leaves and upset the fragile mycorrhizal balance in the dune soil.

Moviment Graffitti has long argued that piecemeal enforcement is not enough. “We need proactive surveillance, not reactive fines,” insists spokesperson Andre Callus. “A drone patrol scheduled twice a week would cost less than a single court case.” The NGO has launched a crowdfunding campaign to purchase a lightweight drone equipped with high-resolution cameras, aiming to monitor not just Ramla but also nearby San Blas and Daħlet Qorrot bays.

The incident has reignited calls for a moratorium on new excavation permits within 500 metres of all Natura 2000 sites until a centralised digital registry tracks every compressor, jackhammer, and cement mixer on the islands. Environment Minister Miriam Dalli responded on Monday, promising “a technical working group within two weeks” to explore tighter controls and heavier penalties for repeat offenders.

Yet for many Gozitans, the episode is less about legal clauses and more about identity. “When I walk my grandchildren here, I tell them Calypso sang from these caves,” says Attard, gesturing toward the shadowy grottos at Ramla’s northern end. “If we let dust and greed cloud that story, what will be left for them to remember?”

As the last compressor growl faded and the sea reclaimed the soundscape of gulls and lapping waves, volunteers handed out paper cones of traditional imqaret to onlookers—a sweet reminder that vigilance and community spirit are still the strongest mortar Malta has.