Maltese cyclist to pedal 1,000km around Sicily in heartfelt tribute to late father

Malta-flagged bicycles will soon be gliding through Sicilian olive groves and coastal hamlets as 34-year-old Sliema sports therapist Daniel Camilleri embarks on a solitary 1,000-kilometre loop of the neighbouring island, every pedal stroke dedicated to the father who taught him to ride.

“Dad was the one who removed my stabilisers in Dingli, ran behind me until I wobbled forward, then celebrated with a ħobż biż-żejt on the cliffs,” Camilleri recalls, voice cracking slightly as he tunes the gears on his midnight-blue Scott Foil. “When cancer took him last year I felt hollow; cycling became the only place the ache quietened down. Turning that grief into something positive feels Maltese to the core – we cope by moving, by doing, by turning the Mediterranean sun into fuel.”

The route, which starts and finishes in Syracuse on 14 May, traces the entire Sicilian coastline anti-clockwise before cutting inland to the Madonie mountains, a deliberate echo of the devotional “pellegrinaggi” Sicilian and Maltese faithful have shared for centuries. Camilleri will average 140 km a day, sleeping in agriturismi and parish halls, and carrying only a handle-bar pouch stamped with the Maltese cross.

Local connection beyond sentiment is tangible: Malta-based adventure company Maltrek has mapped the GPX track, Gozitan nutritionist Claire Galea has designed a high-energy ftira-based fuelling plan, and Mdina glass artisans have donated a personalised water bottle etched with the slogan “Ride for Raymond”. Even the bike’s top-tube bears the Camilleri coat-of-arms, painted by Qormi artist Steve Bonello whose father, like Raymond, succumbed to pancreatic cancer.

“Sicily is our cousin; we share the same sea, the same saints, the same stubborn cross-winds,” says Maltrek founder Roberta Buhagiar, who will shadow Camilleri in a support van stocked with Maltese sea-salt tablets and bottles of Kinnie. “When Daniel asked for help we saw a chance to remind both islands that 90 kilometres of water is nothing when stories, bloodlines and grief bind us.”

Cultural resonance runs deeper than logistics. Maltese pilgrims have sailed to Sicilian shrines since medieval times, carrying ex-votos of gratitude or pleas for healing. Camilleri’s ride modernises that tradition, substituting sailcloth for Lycra and crowdfunding for coins tossed into a collection plate. His Revolut charity pot – already nudging €11,000 in 48 hours – will be split equally between Malta’s Hospice Movement and Sicily’s LILT cancer association, a bilateral gesture applauded by both health ministries.

“Cancer doesn’t stop at the SAR search-and-rescue zone,” notes Dr. Miriam Dalmas, oncology lead at Mater Dei, who consulted on the challenge. “Daniel’s ride reminds us that research, respite care and emotional support must be cross-border. Every kilometre he logs is a kilometre of solidarity.”

Community buy-in has been typically Maltese: noisy, generous, food-centred. Valletta café Black Eagle has promised a post-ride fenkata; cyclists from B’Kara’s Urban Pedal club will escort him to the Gozo ferry on a farewell spin; and schoolchildren in Żejtun are folding 1,000 paper cyclists to be hung in Sicilian town squares like prayer flags. The Malta-Sicily underwater fibre-optic cable even features in a social-media filter that flashes “Nirridedk, Sicily” – Maltese for “We root for you” – each time someone donates five euro.

Camilleri admits the physical toll scares him – Mount Etna’s 1,700-metre climb looms on day six – but insists the mental image of his father waving from the Dingli cliffs will haul him up. “Maltese kids grow up hearing that the horizon is a limit,” he says, clipping into his pedals for one last training ride along the Sliema front. “Dad taught me it’s an invitation. If one person on either island books a screening because of this ride, then every blister is worth it.”

When he rolls back into Syracuse after roughly 60 hours in the saddle, a delegation from Malta including his mother and childhood friends will be waiting, waving the red-and-white flag and, in true island style, uncorking a bottle of Sicilian wine mixed with a splash of Maltese ġellewża – because even grief, eventually, deserves a toast to life.