Comino is a small island between Malta and Gozo, introduced as both a vivid landscape in Creasy’s remembered past and the far shore of a demanding swim. Its watchtower, clear water, and channels shaped by breeze and tide make the island more than a distant landmark: as Creasy returns to the area after eight years, reaching it becomes a concrete test of his physical recovery.

Setting and Approach

The ferry Melitaland carries cars, trucks, and passengers on the two-mile passage between Malta and Gozo. On Creasy’s journey to Gozo, it passes Comino, where an old watchtower stands high above the cliffs. Beneath it, the water over a sandy bottom is vivid blue; the passage identifies the sheltered-looking stretch as the Blue Lagoon. The surrounding currents and tides have minimized pollution, leaving the water clear and the shoreline uncluttered.

The view also establishes the geography of Creasy’s arrival. Ahead lies Gozo, steeper and greener than Malta, with villages on the hillsides and terraced fields reaching down toward the water. Comino appears within that crossing as a small, distinct island, close enough to invite a swim but separated from Gozo by a channel whose actual distance and currents matter. The apparent nearness of the land is repeatedly set against the effort required to reach it.

A Landscape Held in Memory

Seeing Comino prompts Creasy to remember swimming there eight years earlier with Guido and Julia. That recollection gives the island a personal history before it becomes the object of his new physical challenge. The same blue water belongs to two moments in his life: an earlier visit shared with his friends and his present effort to settle into a new routine on Gozo.

The contrast is not simply between past and present scenery. Creasy arrives eager to begin his program, while the remembered swim places the island in a life that existed before his current condition. Comino thus links his return to the region with a past companionship, even as his later swims shift the emphasis from memory to what his body can manage now.

The Channel as a Physical Test

From the Gozo farmhouse, a secluded cove provides Creasy with a place to swim. The water there is deep and clear; erosion has undercut the limestone shore, leaving a flat ledge over the sea. On his first swim, he strips off and plunges in, going about a hundred meters into the north Comino channel. Comino looks beckoningly close, but he knows its nearest point is almost a mile away. He imagines first swimming there when fitter, then eventually making the return journey as well. The goal is set out in stages rather than claimed as an easy feat.

On Saturday morning, Creasy attempts the crossing. He paces himself toward a point in front of the blue-and-white hotel, but has not checked the tide table. A slight westerly breeze and the current carry him east. He changes his angle and quickens his stroke, yet the current continues to win; the second bay drifts past, and beyond it the shore rises into high cliffs. Turning back toward Gozo does not immediately bring him to safety: he is tiring and sees that he may be swept beyond both islands. He stops fighting the current to conserve strength for the effort required once he reaches deeper water outside the tidal race. Ramla Bay is visible, but more than a mile away, and he resumes swimming slowly as fatigue sets in.

Reaching Comino

Creasy tries again with more attention to the conditions. This time he enters the water fifteen minutes before the turn of the tide. The westerly breeze remains, but the current is slack, and he swims steadily toward his target. From her bedroom window, Nadia watches through her father’s binoculars. She has anticipated the attempt despite Creasy’s silence about it: for three mornings she has sent Joey to wait at Gleneagles, and now she contacts both Joey and her friend at the Comino Hotel.

Creasy reaches the small bay, continues around to the hotel jetty, and later walks past the hotel barefoot and wet. A staff member brings him a plastic bag and a tall glass of beer, sent with Nadia’s compliments. Looking back across the channel, he can make out the farmhouse high on the hill and a flash of sunlight on the binocular lenses. He waves and raises the glass in a silent toast. The successful crossing answers the earlier failed attempt not with a declaration but with arrival, and the exchanged gesture connects his solitary effort to Nadia’s watchful support. Comino’s role in the novel rests on this precise combination of distance and visibility: the island is near enough to see, difficult enough to reach, and memorable enough to draw Creasy back into motion.