From the tranquil shores of Marfa Bay, Malta, Colin Backhouse points to the horizon where the tiny island of Comino shimmers under the Mediterranean sun. Once a secluded sanctuary, the 3km-by-5km islet—famed for its otherworldly Blue Lagoon—has become a battleground between mass tourism and conservation. "In winter, it's magical. In summer, it's hell," says Backhouse, a travel influencer with over 51,000 followers, who now refuses to promote the destination during peak season.
From Idyllic Escape to "Overcrowded Chaos"
Comino's Blue Lagoon, a cerulean bay where sunlight dances on a white limestone seabed, lures tens of thousands of visitors yearly. But its Instagram-perfect waters mask a grim reality: summers bring overcrowded boats, litter-strewn shores, and raucous powerboats scarring the environment. "In the 1980s, you'd have the whole island to yourself," recalls Backhouse. "Now, it's a shadow of what it was."
The backlash has grown fierce. Disillusioned tourists label Comino day trips a "scam," while activists like Movimenti Graffiti staged protests in 2022, removing private deckchairs to reclaim public space. "We're seeing public land exploited for profit," the group declared.
Social Media Fame and Environmental Shame
Comino's cinematic pedigree—featured in Game of Thrones and Troy—and social media frenzy turned its iridescent lagoon into a global magnet. Yet the influx has taken a toll: trampled native plants, polluted waters, and overwhelmed infrastructure.
This year, Malta's government imposed a daily cap of 5,000 boat visitors, halving previous numbers, to protect the Natura 2000-protected site. "It's progress, but not enough," says Mark Sultana of BirdLife Malta. "The ecosystem remains fragile."
A Mediterranean-Wide Crisis
Comino's plight mirrors overtourism struggles across the region. Venice charges day-trippers, Athens limits Acropolis visitors, and Spain's Canary Islands protest unsustainable tourism. "Tourists expect paradise but find chaos," says Maltese guide Joanne Gatt. "Many leave heartbroken."
Hope on the Horizon?
While the cap aims to balance access and preservation, critics argue irreversible damage is done. "We've worn Comino thin," Gatt admits. "But maybe future generations will still see its magic."
For now, the islet's fate hinges on enforcing sustainable practices—and whether travelers trade convenience for conservation. As Backhouse watches Comino from afar, he sighs: "Some places are too precious to lose."