Heritage in a rock pool: Protection or slow erosion for the Sliema baths?
Once the epitome of Victorian seaside prudishness, Malta’s rock-cut ‘baths’ are slowly vanishing under the weight of coastal erosion, as well as official indifference. A 2007 report flagged the risks, but plans for their protection remain absent. James Debono reports.

The slow erosion of man-made, rock-cut pools—popularly known as “baths”—along the Sliema and Qui-Si-Sana coasts, Marsamxett, and Birżebbuġa has still not attracted official attention, despite visible signs that erosion is taking its toll.
A spokesperson for the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage told MaltaToday that the agency has not yet carried out any holistic studies on man-made rock pools and other similar features along Malta’s coastline.
Asked whether there are any plans to schedule these curious features as protected heritage monuments, the spokesperson explained that “scheduling exercises always adopt a holistic approach rather than a piecemeal one,” indicating that any decision to schedule these features depends on a broader review.
Furthermore, like all man-made features over 50 years old, these structures already fall under the general protection of the Cultural Heritage Act.
Still, while scheduling would be largely symbolic, it could help trigger official interest in their preservation and formally acknowledge their place in Malta’s social history.
To date, the only study documenting the threats facing these structures—commissioned by the Sliema Local Council and carried out by Geotek Services—was published in 2007.
Referring specifically to the Qui-Si-Sana baths, the report warned that “the integrity of most of these baths has been damaged by winter storms.” It predicted that erosion and coastal retreat would worsen “as more concrete is placed along the coast, thereby reducing coastal friction on wave energy.” It also flagged that the baths at Fond Għadir, cut into globigerina limestone, were rapidly eroding and losing their original shape.

The report recommended the construction of submerged offshore seawalls to protect the rocky coast without altering the natural outcrops. It also noted that several rock excavations of historical value were showing signs of rapid erosion and required urgent protection. And while heritage experts normally regard coastal erosion as an unavoidable historical process in its own right, steps could still be taken to slow the process and to restore some of these relics of 19th-century seaside culture.
A Victorian legacy
Despite the lack of official recognition, the rock-cut pools have drawn the attention of tourist-oriented websites—many of which wrongly attribute them to Roman times rather than British colonial heritage.
Google Earth, for example, still refers to the row of pools at Fond Għadir as “Roman Baths,” as do several other websites. However, TripAdvisor now correctly identifies them as “Victorian-era baths” and lists them among Sliema’s must-see attractions.
This historical confusion is partly linked to their erosion and deterioration, as noted in an article on sea-level change in Malta published in the Quaternary International journal in 2012: “The presence of nineteenth-century swimming pools, which are architecturally well-defined but not always well-preserved, suggests that their position and relatively poor preservation can easily cause misunderstandings, in so much as they can be confused with earlier archaeological remains.”
Geologically, it is the prevailing soft globigerina limestone that allowed easy carving of coastal baths, which were widely used during the late 19th century, when—for the first time in Malta’s history, “the coastline was rediscovered by the middle and upper classes of society,” who “increasingly saw it as a place for recreation.”

In fact, the rock pools offer a glimpse into Malta’s seaside culture at a time when swimming was shaped by Victorian sensibilities: the health benefits of bathing were acknowledged, but modesty, especially for women, was strictly upheld.
Carved using bush hammers into soft globigerina limestone, the pools were typically around 1.3 metres (or about four feet) deep, just enough for bathers to stand upright. Steps were dug into the rock for easy access, and narrow trenches or small tunnels allowed seawater to flow freely in and out.
Holes were carved into the corners to support wooden poles, from which blankets were hung to shield bathers from the sun and from prying eyes. The pools were generally covered by wooden structures and/or canvas awnings.
Even when concealed, bathers typically wore oversized swimsuits. The shallow depth also made them ideal for those who couldn’t swim. A tradition that continues today, especially for children.

The wealthy often had private pools carved near their summer residences to ensure maximum privacy. This suggests that Malta’s seaside culture was, from its inception, shaped by the elite’s desire to carve out private enclaves along the public coast.
While most pools were privately owned, some were rented out to the public. In Rajt Malta Tinbidel, Herbert Ganado recalls the Marsamxett baths known as “Tas-Sur Tankred” being rented out by the hour.
By the 1950s and 1960s, the baths near the Excelsior Hotel in Marsamxett were still popular among children from Floriana and Valletta. Though no longer covered, they offered a safer and more sheltered environment than open water.
Over the years, many of these heritage features have been lost. Elderly Sliema residents interviewed by MaltaToday in 2018 recalled a stretch of baths below the Hotel Fortina and the Jesus of Nazareth Church, which were obliterated when the seabed was reclaimed.
Others remember that the baths along the Tigné seafront, opposite St Anthony Street, were once enclosed in wooden rooms for privacy. The baths in Birżebbuġa are said to have belonged to the Asfar and Cachia Zammit families. Today, only a couple survive near Wied il-Buni.