Jane
Wading through this natural rock garden, more worthy of a prize than anything at the Chelsea flower show, we found Ladas dolmen, which is actually a bit of a mess.
But today on its rock garden perch, partially shaded by cork oaks it looks fab. It has two capstones still up one if which is very large indeed. Internally, it’s partly supported by wooden pillars, unfortunately.
A little bit out of Luras, perhaps 1 km, in its own little walled enclosure protected from the verdant olive trees and cork oaks is dolmen Bilella.
Constructed on a curious split level rock platform its supporting stones are therefore of different heights – as if stepping downstairs. It has a nice capstone with a pleasing curve on the top and dead flat on the underside. But something about it didn’t quite ring true – possibly a poor or fanciful reconstruction perhaps to make the site seem more poetic? We couldn’t quite work it out.
This was something to ponder as we sat and tucked into our pizza, listening to the deafening soundtrack of songbirds and trying to catch glimpses of the singers – finches, bunting and flycatchers for sure, though exactly which species I couldn’t say.
This tiny, unobtrusive and very simple construction is hardly worth a glimpse in the context of Sardinia. But if it was in, say, an Oxfordshire field, people would come from miles. Alzoledda has its own reserved patch of ground on the edge of town and is policed by three pretty cats from the house which overlooks it.
Tucked away in the most arcadian, peaceful valley in the world (possibly) just to the east of Tempio is Pascaredda tomba di giganti. Striding through seas of grasses and flowers following a path beside a tree lined stream of bucolic perfection, we arrived at a clearing surrounded by the gnarly ancient cork oaks to find this sweetest of tombi, complete with much of its barrow.
Thirteen out of 14 of its original capstones are still in place covering its deep tomb corridor. The curved arms of its forecourt stones sweep round elegantly each side of the stele. The stele is unusual in that it only has the bottom square with catflap – it lacks the arched top section that we’d seen at Coddhu Vecchju or Li Lolghi. Not that it mattered – this place was exquisite. Moth and I both looked for signs that it once has an arched topped, but found nothing to suggest it had.
With purple orchids in flower among the more than 16 species of flowering grasses and birdsong filling the warm scented air, this place is nothing less than orgasmic.
Just outside Tempio is Nuraghe Majori, my first nuraghe. This one is run as a tourist attraction with shop, café, loos and a stuffed wild boar. Picking our way through the cork oaks (which were festooned with hairy caterpillars hung freakily from long silken threads waiting to ambush me) we finally arrived at the nuraghe.
Made of huge blocks of stone piled up carefully to create thick walls, they look like Menorcan talaiots, the difference is that nuraghes have internal chambers, perhaps used for food storage, would be my guess as they were very cool and dark inside. This one had two corbelled chambers leading off from the main corridor, an in one hung some sweet little bats right up in the apex. The corridor continued through the wall and spiralled up and out into an higher external platform giving great views all around.
Li Lolghi has the most terrific reveal. Walking up a little track past the biglietteria (ticket booth) you turn a corner and suddenly it’s there like an old friend standing on a hilltop waving ‘ciao!‘
Because it stands at the top of a little rise it looks even bigger – and it’s pretty damned big to begin with. Li Lolghi’s stele is more tapered in shape than arched and the chunk missing at the top simply adds character and charm.
Indeed it’s so spectacular that I actually shivered in delight when I pressed myself against its pink lichen covered warm flatness.The slabs that form the monument’s curved arms are equally flat and reminded me of the squary flatness of some of the stones at Callanish.
Coddhu Vecchju has, like most other tombi di giganti a forecourt area or ‘esedra’, formed by a line of stones sweeping curvaceously out from either side of the centrally placed stele.
As I stood before Coddhu Vecchju, I had the feeling that the tomb’s curved arms were embracing me. This was a feeling that I would have again and again as I visited various T di Gs.
The tomb chamber itself runs back behind the stele and like most other tombi we saw, is constructed like a French allee couverte. Coddhu Vecchju’s chamber is in good condition and retains most of its capstones.
Coddhu Vecchju is built on a slight gradient as the land rise gently out of a thickly wooded valley with a stream running along the bottom. So the curved arms of the tomb are not flat, they have been constructed so they echo the lie of the land – the west arm held up and the east arm down, like being embraced by a dancing partner.
The land rises more sharply on the other side of the stream and is now cultivated with lines of vines. This tomb was not meant to be seen in the landscape by all passers by like West Kennett, it is more hidden, private, intimate.
I was enraptured with the place. It wouldn’t be the last time we’d see it.
27 May 2008
Up in the hills is the small bronze age temple of Malchittu. Readers who know me know I’m not much of a walker; I stumble and fall a lot, so have to look at my feet ALL the time, I have a dodgy knee going downhill and am generally lazy. But despite the 2km walk up to it (UP being the operative word) I thought I’d go for it anyway. It was a nice day after all and we were in no hurry.
The sandy, easy-to-walk-on path wound gently through beautiful farmland of small grassy meadows and trees until it started to rise and climb into the rocky scrub of the granite-bouldered mountain. Curling around, the path reaches the rounded high point of the mountain where the little oval temple had been built.
And there’s still something to admire – the thick walls, including the gable end, still had its doorway and niche above. The fact that someone bothered to build a temple here up on this rocky mountain is what impressed me. I wondered if there was spring nearby – I had noticed some damp runnels on the path nearby, but couldn’t see the water source.
I think I only stumbled twice and even had time to stop and look at the amazing views!
27 May 2008
We’d driven past the Nuraghe Albucciu every day for the past seven days, so as our time in Sardinia came to an end, we thought we’d better take a look at it even though we’re not nuraghistas. This one did impress me though.
I liked the way the builders had used the natural outcrop of granite boulders to build the nuraghe around an morph into the landscape. The usual huge blocks of drystone were used to build it and it had the usual corbelled side-chambers and corridor leading up to a platform area at the top. Today it is surrounded by cork oaks and olive trees, and a curious natural overhanging rock feature stood right next to the tower structure. This impressed me more than anything.
The smooth expansive wall beneath the overhang reminded me of exactly the sort of place where I have seen Australian aboriginal rock paintings and Jordanian and San petroglyphs. I wondered if these smooth rock walls had once been painted with ochres and umbers showing animal and sacred symbols. I looked for any evidence but of course found nothing except tiny bees’ nests, cobwebs and lichen.
And beneath the rocks was a small low gap (which I probably could have squeezed through had I been being chased by a fire-breathing angry bull), through which I could see a number of chambers had been carved into – almost cave-like but absolutely (wo)man-made.
I was surprised to find I liked this nuraghe because I could ‘people’ it in my mind. It seemed like a very comfortable place to live. It even had a potential (or long forgotten) art gallery space!
23 May 2008
The drive up to Li Mizzani is up and down – and up again! – a narrow twisting lane into the mountains which was quite dramatic and good fun, but not as dramatic as the monument itself.
Set among scrubby, sandy bushveldt, alive with flowers and buzzing with insects and birds, this is a strange tomba di giganti compared to others. The stone is slightly different shape – more of a lozenge with wide feet, and with no carving. And all the big slabby stones which would have formed the arms reaching out either side of the stele are gone. All that remains is a low wall that marks the forecourt. Perhaps it never had slabs?
We climbed up onto what appeared to be a gorsedd stone just metres away from the back of the tomb to observe where the stele appeared to point at a cleft in the distant mountains. Hmmm. I wasn’t entirely convinced. Everything points to something if you look hard enough.
We met an Italian professional photographer there who, rather charmingly for these days, still shot on film. He was fascinated by our photocopied pages on Sardinia from TME. “Where did you get this?” he asked. I wrote down the name of the book, author and the URL of this website for him.
And up here, the trees seemed to be alive with goldfinches.
23 May 2008
Close to Li Lolghi is the small megalithic cemetery of Li Muri, consisting of five cairns with cists. Carefully constructed and equally carefully restored, it didn’t overwhelm me, in fact I hardly felt whelmed at all, but I was very interested to see other tombs in the region which weren’t tombi di giganti.
We’d not so far encountered any dolmen of such really hefty proportions in Sardinia.
Julian’s instructions in TME coupled with new brown road signs helped us find it easily. It’s an absolute whopper, constructed simply with four massive slabs each more than foot thick on a natural bedrock foundation. It’s lost its back end but that allowed yellow rays from the setting sun to illuminate the chamber and shine out through the catflap. Very picturesque.
The western slab, I noticed bulged out at the front portal end. Precisely the same place on the inside had been cut into a little platform or bench making a very handy seat. In fact, just right for sitting, lighting up a small cigar and considering all the miraculous places we had seen to today.
As we began our drive back, a beautiful leveret leapt out on to the road in front of us and stopped long enough for us to admire it, before leaping back into the tall grasses.
Campo Lontano proved hard to find. Very hard. Julian gives no instructions as to how to find it on page 440 and 441 of TME where he shows it. We had only Moth and Sals’s desk research to go on: a Google Earth print-out and some notes translated from Italian to English by google.
From Florinas, the sat nav took us down blind alleys and eventually impassable farm tracks and after a long frustrating detour around some mountains we finally found a road sign to it, just west of Banari and Siligo. However road signs, we had learned, can take you up more blind alleys or only point you half the way then leave you stranded, so we weren’t counting any pollo.
We drove up the steep, narrow, rutted farm track narrowly avoiding tearing off the hire car’s undercarriage or scratching the bodywork (drivers of a nervous disposition, don’t try this lane!) until we reached a junction. Which way? There was no sign. We left the car where it was and walked down the left hand fork only to be stopped by a wire fence which had been erected across the track. Not this way, obviously. So we tried the other way which took us up to a farm building. We could hear some sheep bells and there were two cars parked: “Buen Giorno!” we called out. After a while a tiny brown man in a dirty vest appeared from the barn and we pointed to the monument on the map. He pointed in a vague direction eastwards and after a conversation entirely in English on our part and Italian on his, managed to work out it was in a field (campo) 100 (cento) metres beyond the white rocks (roccia bianco) that we could see.
It was hot, there was no shade and it looked like it was about 1200ms away, but we’d come this far and couldn’t give up now, so we walked along the track which ran parallel to an enormous rocky cliff above which a couple of eagles soared.
A farm truck passed us. A younger man leaned out and indicated that it was in the meadow beyond a big tree he pointed to o the road ahead of us. As indeed it was. Shaded under a large fig tree.
This is no ordinary monument – Campo Lontano (which means ‘far field’) is amazing as it combines the skill of rock cutting with the construction of a freestanding tomba. It is entirely carved from an above-ground naturally occurring large rocky outcrop. It looked like it had been partially shaped – the same shape as the internal structure of Molafa which we had seen earlier in the day. The front of the tomb was cut to the same shape too – using all the elements seen in a tomba di giganti’s stele in fact: catflap, square base, arched top and mullion. The cat flap was too small to squeeze through, but peering through I could see the tomb has been cracked open at the back, so I whizzed round and climbed it.
Internally, it feels like a Menorcan naveta – a small room tall enough to stand up in and wide enough to stand arms outstretched. At the end with the cat flap a low bowl or shallow receptacle had been carved on the floor – for liquid offerings perhaps?
This is a remarkable monument in every way – the closest thing I’ve seen to it before is the freestanding rock cut tombs in Lycia, Turkey which (I believe) are of a later date.
Yes, it was worth the hours it took to find it and the sunburned shoulders.
From the grandness of Monte D’Accoddi, a public, community monument, we set off to find a much smaller monument, perhaps a family tomb – a tiny but perfect rock cut tomb almost certain pre-dating the tombi di giganti, called Molafa. For reasons we couldn’t fathom, Julian calls it Malafa, even though on the map and on the nearby railway station it’s clearly called Molafa. Following Julian’s instructions it is indeed ‘45 paces along a verdant gully’.
Just a few metres up the path there it is cut into the rock of a low cliff face that you can reach by scrambling up. Incredibly there is a natural platform directly in front of the opening to the tomb – granted not wide, but wide enough to act as an altar or sacred, ceremonial space, not unlike an esedra or forecourt.
The opening the to tomb is carved in a quite remarkable way for it echoes the pattern of a tomba di giganti stele – that is a square opening with arched top – complete with carved mullion, as I’ve already said pre-dating the tombi.
I would have immediately shot into the tomb had I not been diverted by a superb and friendly lime green grasshopper who needed to be admired. Insect-admiration complete, I then dived into the tomb. About 3ms long and 2ms or so wide, it’s not big. But with its barrel arched ceiling reflected in the shape of the carved arch ‘gable’ above the portal, and integral stone bench running around the side and back walls, it is about as perfect in its simplicity as a rock cut tomb can be. Over the centuries people have lit fires in here – the ceiling is black with a thick layer of soot. It strongly reminded both me and Moth of a scaled-down version of the rock cut chambers we’d seen at Little Petra in Jordan. They had had highly complicated designs (frescoes) painted on their lofty ceilings which centuries of Bedouin fires had blackened. I could see no evidence of that here, but if it has been decorated (and why wouldn’t it have been?) this ceiling was lower and more easily damaged early on in its history.
We were delighted to have found this place. It evidently gets very few visitors and it is well worth it.
A page from my sketchbook. I wanted to emphasize the bright pinkness of the granite as it sparkled in the morning sun...
Image credit: Jane Tomlinson
A double page watercolour sketch from my sketchbook
Image credit: Jane Tomlinson
A double page spread watercolour sketch from my sketchbook. I can’t even begin to tell you how I loved it here!
Image credit: Jane Tomlinson
After a difficult 20 to 30 minute walk (perhaps 1 km long over rough ground, uphill through woodland) we reached Le grand dolmen de la bergerie de panissiere.
It’s essentially a passage cairn with a dolmen-like structure at its heart, surrounded by about 5ms diameter of cairny rubble with intriguing standing stones pointing out of its outer edge. It’s clear it’s been restored but rather well we felt. We sat and got our breath back before pushing on.
A beautiful dolmen, recently excavated and reconstructed. Start with this one and leap like a deer up the limestone terraces toward dolmen 2 (just 20 ms away) and (dolmen 3) about 50ms away.
To have three monuments, in such good condition within site of each other in such a spectacular setting is marvellous.
