Pink and practically perfect Petra
Seeing is believing. The Rose Red City. The highlight of Jordan. Probably the highlight of the Middle East. Possibly the most fantastic place made by human beings in the world. I kid you not. It has all the features that make the jaw drop: vast scale, grandeur, beauty, surprise, location, supreme human effort, natural wonder, history, romance, magic.
I had seen photos of Petra in books from my childhood. A pink city in a desert carved out of rock during the two centuries BC. Just think about that for moment! Then imagine that such a place could be 'lost' for almost two millennia. I felt sure that one day I would see it for myself. The day was 6 September 2005. I had always imagined myself riding to it. So I did!
Riding past rock cut chambers and djinn towers towards the Siq
As-Siq
I dismounted and left the horse at the top of As-Siq, a long, extraordinary gorge down which you walk to reach the city. 1.2km long, at times only two metres wide, the sheer sandstone walls rise all around you, creating fantastic plastic shapes where the stone has been weathered by water, time and sand.
And the rock is multi-coloured! Pink, orange, sulphur yellow, manganese blue, white, red, maroon, crimson... changing all the time as the light and shadow plays on it.
I had read the guidebooks, heard people tell me how unreal the gorge is but nothing prepares you for the sheer fantastical madness of this crazy canyon. All the way along the bottom you follow a deep channel carved into the rock, down which ran the water to supply the city.
The first view
Just before we reached the end of the Siq the guide stopped us to 'warn' us that around the next corner we would see our first glimpse of Petra's best known view. I was already blown away, so the warning seemed all rather melodramatic. However... we rounded the corner and moving into view I finally saw it.
It was as if a bolt of pure, beautiful electricity had exploded in my chest. I wept like a child. And I wasn't the only one in our group blubbing. I stood for sometime unable to look again as if this wonderful apparation was just some fabulous trick in my mind and if I peeped it would be gone. But no, it was real!
Pink perfection
The perfect facade of the Treasury, as it is called, is 43ms high and cut out of the rock face and glowed pink and orange and is only one of EIGHT HUNDRED rock cut temples, tombs, houses, market places, amphitheatres, public and private dwellings that make up the city.
Many are badly eroded, being carved of sandstone, but the Treasury's position has protected it well.
Many facades are crumbling and worn by water and weather and appear to be, in some wacky Dali-esque way, melting away in front of your eyes. And everywhere as the grain of the rock is exposed, the stone appears to be marbled in gorgeous colours.
We shuffled slowly down the main 'street' (actually a sandstone gorge) marvelling at the edifices which leave you lost in wonder.
The Monastery
After lunch in an air-conditioned restaurant, a number of us decided to go up The Monstery, a temple carved around 300BC high up away from the main drag, about an hour's walk uphill in 40 degrees of heat. Sod that. I'd probably trip and fall down some steep gorge to certain and bloody death. Much safer to hire a nice comfortable sure-footed donkey. This would allow me time to paint at the top, too.
Me and my white ass clatter down rock cut steps
My big strong white ass knew the way and tore off ahead of the walkers. On the way up, away from the main city complex, you get a really strong sense of how vast this ancient city was. The little gorge leading to the Monastery was pock marked with carved caves and tombs, houses and niches, steps and irrigation channels.
Finally reaching the Monastery is quite a shock. Having left behind the main area, that something so large and utterly beautiful could apparently be so easily carved out of a fucking mountainside right up here is truly staggering. I tried to imagine to planning process.:"Hey, Ibrahim! How about you and yer mates carve a 45 metre grand facade out of the mountain up there?" Perhaps not. The facade is bigger than the Treasury and appears to be carved out of melt-resistant butter. I moored the donkey and sat in the shade strategically positioned drinks stall and got out my sketchbook.
Next day Moth and Carole planned to hike up to the High Place of Sacrifice. I could've taken another donkey and gone with them but I wanted to sit and paint.
I had my sights set on the facade of the Treasury in the early morning light as is glowed.
I'd love to spend a month in Petra painting! As it was, I only had the morning. I did this in 50 minutes:
Little Petra (Siq Barid)
Little Petra is the sort of place that if it weren't overshadowed by its famous neighbour would have visitors flocking in thousands. It's not as extensive as the main site or even as dramatic, but it is enchanting and somehow more approachable than Petra. It consists of one main gorge which opens out and in the rock on each side tombs, rooms and facades have been carved. Water channels and collection tanks are clearly visible and inside the chambers are carved platforms for sitting, dining and living. It reminded me very strongly of Cala Morrell in Menorca, only more ornate and twice as hot.
Al-Beidha neolithic village
Just around the hillside (a merciful ten minute walk) from Little Petra is Al-Beidha neolithic village, dated at 9,000 years old. "Skara Brae" we cried!
Thick walls of stone rubble have been excavated of a settlement of a small early farming community. A couple of neolithic houses have been mocked up to show the trickle of visitors what it would have once been like.
The bedouin children from the nearby tents danced around us and demonstrated how to use the various genuine 9,000 year old quern stones littering the place. Just 50ms away are some standing stones, but because we didn't read the sign we missed them. Grrr!
Petra by night
Petra by night is an event is billed in the tourist blurb as: 'an unforgettable experience evoking a unique atmosphere of Petra by candlelight... a magical way to see the old city'. It seemed unmissable! We booked. But when you go to Petra, don't be tempted to do it...
We walked the 1.5km toward the entrance to the Siq from our hotel and then walked the 1.2kms down the Siq - all lit up by candles flickering in paper bags. It was very pretty - looking up you could see the impossibly starry sky above the top of the gorge. The long walk led you to believe there might be some spectacle at the end. But what a disappointment! The space in front of the Treasury was lit with hundreds more candles in paper bags among which a bedouin man sat singing and playing a stringed
instrument. It sounded awful. Later, another man played the pipes. That was a bit nicer. A man got a torch and shone the weak beam round the Treasury's massive facade. It was pathetic. Soon after, a lengthy introduction was made in Spanish. The same speech was made in English. As the speaker began limbering up in German, Moth and I could take no more. We left feeling badly let down by the Petra authorities.
Is it safe to go?
The Iraqi invasion has hit the Jordanian tourist industry hard. People believe - quite wrongly - that Jordan is somehow 'dangerous' being a neighbour of Iraq. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is politically stable, at peace with Israel, has a thriving economy, industrious and kind people and its biggest attraction, Petra, is Jordan's main source of tourist income. There were many fewer tourists than usual. Good for us perhaps, but the local bedouin (who actually lived among these ancient rocks until 1995 until the government rehoused them nearby away from the site) rely on tourists' dinars to make a living.
- N O T E S -
Access for the disabled and less confident walkers
Petra is quite accessible for disabled people and less confidentwalkers. You can ride a horse to the Siq (as I did) or hire a calesh (a two-person horse-drawn carriage) which will take you both down the entrance road AND the Siq. Caleshs can also be used around the main street. The Siq is paved and smooth most of the way so suitable for wheelchairs. Donkeys and mules can be hired for moving around the main site and getting up the high paths to the mountain tops and remote sites. Camels are also available but these are only really for decorative purposes and getting up and down the main drag. Wheelchairs would find it difficult to get over the dusty flat paths of the main drag, but certainly not impossible.
Animal welfare: though worked hard, all the animals at Petra I saw looked to be in good health and well-fed. All the horses were adequately shod.
Facilities
There are toilets built into a rock cut chamber which are spectacularly clean and flush, too! And restaurants and stalls (selling gorgeous locally crafted jewellery) can be found intermittantly throughout the site. Two restaurants at the western end of the Colonnaded street are wonderful. The desserts at The Basin restaurant would please the fussiest of Scottish megaraks.
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Syria: stuffed with stones
Leaving aside Syria's dodgy politics, the country ought to be famous for many things: the friendliest of people, fertile soils, vibrant and welcoming cities and fascinating archaeological sites. If it's crumbly stuff you love, then Syria's your kind of place. From the finest crusader castles in the world, early examples of the spread of Christianity from the Byzantine period and before, Ottoman palaces, ancient caravanserais to R*man cities that will leave you weeping in astonishment, Syria is indeed blessed.
And you don't have to scratch the surface very hard to see that many of these places were built on earlier settlements - this region is, after all, the cradle of human civilisation. Both Aleppo and Damascus claim to be the oldest cities in the world in continuous habitation. I don't doubt it. Syria's strategic position on trade routes between East and West has given it a unique position in the history of human development.
Ugarit - write it down
Near the Mediterranean port of Latakia lies the ancient, now abandoned city of Ugarit (Ras Shamra) inhabited for 7,000 years; from the seventh millennium BC to the R*mans. It is here amongst crumbling walls of an extensive city from the 18th century BCE that the earliest example of alphabetic writing was unearthed on terracotta tablets. For one who loves words, language and writing so much, a visit to Ugarit was essential.
The Ugarit site was discovered in 1928 by a farmer ploughing his fields. Soon after the French began excavations revealing layers of settlements. During the Neolithic 9,000 years ago there was a small fortified town. In the early Copper Age, painted pottery appears with geometric designs and both flint and metal tools. The Middle Bronze Age layer shows great expertise in bronze working and it is from this time that the ruins we saw are from.
Discounting cave paintings, the earliest evidence of writing dates back to 3500 BCE in Uruk, in southern Iraq. As humankind developed the need to record more complex notions arose. All early writing systems (like Egyptian hieroglyphics and Chinese pictographs) use a complete symbol for an entire word or syllable. They could then be combined to express complex thoughts.
The inhabitants of Ugarit went one step further and recognised that speech consists of a finite number of sounds each of which could be represented with a symbol which could then be put together to make words. The alphabet of all phonetic languages today are based on the 30 symbols created by the people of Ugarit: Arabic, Aramaic, Greek, Hebrew, Latin, Sanskrit and so on.
A lot is known about Bronze Age Ugarit because they could record their activity. They built palaces, temples, shrines and libraries. They constructed cedar ships and became a great naval power refining many principles of navigation. They traded textiles, ivory, weapons and silver with the cities of the Mediterranean, Mesopotamia, Aegean Sea, Egypt and Asia Minor. The reason for the city's abandonment is unknown; possibly invasion or natural disaster.
It was screamingly hot as we entered the site climbing the small hill on which the site stands. As we stood at the top surveying the complex it became immediately apparent that the level of human and social development was no different from today. OK, they didn't have electricity, or the internal combustion engine or the microchip, but they did have complicated buildings and streets, running water, palaces, civic systems and a level of social organisation that allowed them the time to think creatively about abstract concepts, rather than just survive.
On one clay tablet found, written 3,400 years ago reveals that concerns among the people then is no different to now. It says: "Do not tell your wife where you hide your money." It should, of course, have said: "Let your wife look after your money and you will never be poor."
We shuffled through the beautiful ruins under the searing sun admiring the stone masonry, the layouts of the houses and palaces, the streets and palaces, I found it easy to imagine that 3,000 miles away on the fringes of Western Europe, civilisation would be flowering in similar ways. It's only that here, in the thick of trade routes in the busy pre R*man world, cities were built of materials that do not rot down.
Beehives!
As we drove inland towards Aleppo (which by the way, is where hamsters originate from) the temperature started to rise. We also noticed that in some of the villages 'beehive' houses were still being constructed and used. We stopped at one village to take a closer look and were immediately mobbed by small, friendly children.
The beehive houses still used today are of the same diameter and construction of others found across the Levant that date from the Neolithic. Made of salmon pink mud and straw they are about five metres in diametre and have a conical form with a round flat top and only have one room.
The walls are very thick and each house only has one entrance, keeping them warm in winter and cool in summer.
Mari melts away
Just ten kilometres from the Iraqi border, baking in the relentless sun, lies Mari, a Mesopotamian city first settled 2900BC.
Only revealed from layers of protective sand in the early 20th century the ancient mud brick walls (some five metres thick!) of a huge city lie crumbling away. Now exposed, winter rains and sandstorms hit the site hard and the city appears to be melting back into the dust. But there are still things to wonder at!
Waterproofed with tar, the vast, deep cisterns and water channels are still visible, palaces with niches for statuary in the walls, staircases, bits of Mesopotamian pottery poke up through the sand and to my delight, my very first ziggurat, from where I could see the mountains of Iraq.
Clay tablets found here reveal rich and close trading links between Ugarit on the coast and Palmyra.
Queen Zenobia's Palmyra
Though not within the remit of this website, I must also draw readers' attention to the R*man city of Palmyra.
Not because it is one of the most magical, vast, pant-wettingly beautiful, finely-preserved, fascinating, romantic and exotic of places. And not because in the flat, featureless vastness of the Syrian desert, a single spring welling up through the rock allowed this to become one of the richest cities in the ancient world. And not because of the evidence that Neolithic people settled and farmed here. And not because from 2,000 BCto 106AD it was a minor desert fort used by caravans and bedouin before Trajan got in there to big it up. No, though all of this is true. For the purposes of this website I must tell you about the tombs. Because I just love a funky tomb!
Tower power!
Built and used by Palmyra's residents from 333BC to as late as 128AD the tower tombs are a surprising feature of the landscape just to the west of the main city.
Here, in the Valley of the Tombs they build hypogea, too, cut into the rock, stacking the bodies in the same way as in the towers. Within the sturdy towers - like oversized fire hose drying towers - they placed corpses in neat rows, one on top of the other on stone plinths, just like in a modern day morgue.
In the partially rebuilt tower we entered it was cool and lofty, with marvellous frescoes and statues depicting the dead. It once held 300 bodies. There are loads of these towers, too, in various states of disrepair. The really crumbly ones reminded us of the building style of the 'navetas' we saw earlier this year in Menorca.
Where to go next?
Via Damascus, we travelled south to the magical kingdom of Jordan...
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The 'Must-Sees' we saw on Dartmoor
2 July 2005
A long-awaited long weekend on Dartmoor found us arriving in Devon in disappointingly grey, overcast and mistly weather. But the welcome at The Ring of Bells Inn in North Bovey (www.ringofbellsinn.com) was warm and Moth and I would both heartily recommend the Inn to anyone. Dumping our bags, we headed off up onto the moor. First stop: Grimspound.Just a short five minute walk uphill from the road brings you to this ancient village settlement. Filthy weather prevented us from exploring this site thoroughly as the fine drizzle was blowing at an angle of 45 degrees quite unpleasantly.
The huge low wall which surrounds the long-abandoned settlement maps out the extent of the compound. Despite the looming sense of abandonment it was easy for me to imagine the place in its hayday. As I walked through the ruined ground plans of many houses I imagined the bustle of women working, children playing, goats and sheep corralled, men talking - ordinary things. The layout and size reminded me very strongly of the maasai villages of East Africa today.
Sadly, no African sun here today. Indeed, so bleak did it become that we declared 'rain stopped play' and headed back to the car. We thought we'd try our luck on another part of the moor and began the short but tortuous drive on Devon's lanes to see Fernworthy stone circle and rows.The short walk uphill on the forestry road from the car park by the reservoir took me 10 minutes (but then I don't walk fast uphill). The weather was still pretty nasty though the plantation gave us some protection. The circle and rows now lie in a clearing in the trees. This means there are no sight lines or views, but the circle captivated me, nevertheless. It is lovely here - the circle is small but not tiny and the stones are small, too, but in proportion to the diameter. They seemed to spin above the boggy ground and were watched by me and Moth and a battalion of purple foxgloves.
Another 50 minutes walking would take us to the Greywethers, but given the climate today I had no intention of attempting it. It would have to wait.  |
I needed a site which we could get to pretty easily. We chose Belstone Nine Stones, which was some distance away in the car on the north of Dartmoor.When I was 10, I remember seeing a film called 'The Belstone Fox' starring Eric Porter and Bill Travers and crying all the way through it. Now here I was in Belstone village. No tears this time.
We'd come to see Belstone Nine Stones, a cairn circle of now only 12 stones up on the moor to the south of the chocolate-boxey village and thankfully not a long walk away. Moth had been here before and had taken a while to locate it thinking it was up near the tor. It isn't! Stay close to the field wall and when that runs out, keep walking straight and you'll eventually see it. It's very pretty and has lovely views down towards a waterfall and up towards a tor, but the drizzle was persistent so there was no chance of painting it.
It's size reminded me of a Scillonian cairn or Yockenthwaithe and it felt like it was in the 'wrong' place to be an independent stone circle. I'd guess it was a cairn. On the way towards our next site, we called in at Spinsters' Rock.Suddenly the sun came out! So reaching for my sketchbook I settled down with a cuppa and a fag and made a very quick sketch.
The weather looked to be clearing, so Moth suggested we go for Scorhill.A few years ago, someone sent me a postcard of Scorhill stone circle. I liked the look of its pointy stones and always wanted to see it. Thankfully, the walk is mercifully short and the impact of this monument is mighty!
Corrrrrrrrr! As you crest the hill you down onto it and it compels you completely. Severe, pointy, dramatic, free of trees, bracken and other distractions, this sky temple seems to be indelibly stamped into the landscape and has a more powerful relationship with the moor and the heavens than anything I've seen except Brodgar.
From here we could just make out the Shoveldown stone rows, which we would see close up two days later. And Moth looked wistfully moorwards in the direction of White moor stone circle, knowing that I would never be able to walk to it and he'd have to go alone.
3 July 2005
The B3212 which runs NE to SW across the moor is surely one of Britain's most beautiful routes crossing the moor with gentle determination. As the road passes Sharpitor there is a tiny tarn and parking place and, if you didn't know to look, there's also an incredibly long stone row! Two lines run parallel about 1m apart for more than 100ms, but the stones are so small you'd hardly know. I wish they'd put information boards up about things like this, then people would notice and take an interest. I loved it up here. Right on the top. Felt like I could reach up and touch the sky! Brisworthy stone circle reminded me a lot of Fernworthy in size of stones, diameter and 'feel'. But whereas Fernworthy is held suffocated by trees, Brisworthy is free to breathe and today was bathed in warm sunshine. It seems to have a close relationship with a nearby tor. It's on private land and we had to climb over a fence to get to it. Liked it here! Just up the hill from Brisworthy are the monuments at Ringmoor which unlike pure joy, we found easily. A corkingly long stone row with a rather nice cairn circle at one end. As I strode down the row it seemed to never end! We also spotted some other stuff up there, including another small cairn circle.  |
I was looking forward to the madness of Yellowmead. It's not the easiest to get to though - don't expect a path and do expect to get your feet wet as you go bog-wading. And you need your megalith-antenna on maximum setting to find it- oh and an OS map, of course. It wasn't immediately clear where the hell it was, although we knew we were going in the right direction.
Suddenly it dawned on Moth that the large herd of ponies we could see had chosen it as a cool place to hang out. We approached cautiously. Though they looked cute and cuddly we were aware they are wild animals and had some very young foals with them to protect. It became clear that they weren't going to move for us and we'd just have to work round them. It meant we couldn't walk among the small stones at all but had to walk round and round to try and get a sense of what was going on between the hoofs, sleeping foals, squabbling stallions and grazing mares. Were there four rings? Was it a cairn? The ponies weren't saying.  |
I found the walk to Yellowmead, though not long, quite taxing because it was over such rough, boggy ground. So rather than go on to nearby Drizzlecombe with Moth, I stayed by the car so I could paint the landscape and sit in the sun. Two hours passed quickly as I painted a couple of sketches and then Moth returned triumphantly with some cracking photos, one in particular of a wheatear sitting on a stone.
Twitcher moment: The birding here is fab. Bramblings everywhere, lots of jays, a redstart (I think), larks, thrushes, meadow pipit, wagtails, wheatear, stonechat, etc, etc.
Near the great white scar formed by the china clay works at Trowlesworthy is a complex of stone rows and cairn circles not unlike those at Ringmoor. From where you park the car, you can see the rows sloping down the hill. Having sight of them makes the incredibly dull hike over to them slightly more palettable. Be careful how you go - you can access the site from either side of the canal, but there is no path so tread very carefully. The ground underfoot almost got me a couple of times! The are a couple of rows here the main one perhaps just less than 100ms long - hard to say as an artificially cut channel now bisects it.
The cairn circle is charming though and despite the fact you're overlooking an industrial landscape, I quite liked it. Back over the B3212 and we thought we'd take in the almost perfect cairn circle of Soussons Common before returning to shovel down huge quantities of food at The Ring of Bells.
4 July 2005
What a lovely place Batworthy corner is! Not only is it very very pretty, it is the nearest place to drive to to reach the stone rows and long stone at Shovel down.
The rows here seem to meander forever taking the traveller past the almighty great nearby tor and point you towards the stone circle 1km at Scorhill. The longest stone row idles its way across the moor with two lines of small stones, some hidden under grassy hummocks. Walking the length is not an option. You have no choice but to do it. The most complete section is actually not part of the main row, but deviates off pointing back down to Batworthy.  |
My own personal Everest now had to be conquered. The Greywethers. I knew I'd hate the walk which even Burl calls 'tedious'. But I did it in 50 minutes, mostly by thinking about Sir Ernest Shackleton and the fact this was surely better than being at work... wasn't it?! The weather was shite - very windy and it even hailed once we'd reached the huge circles. Damnit! They'd be no sketching here.
My notebook says: 'absolutely appalling walk which I'm not sure is entirely worth it, even though this perfect pair of large, complete circles are 'A'-list Hollywood sites.' Nevertheless, to see this pair of circles so close together, so even and so big was a real privilege. But the hike and the weather left me feeling so shitty that I couldn't even be arsed to climb the nearby rise to get some height. Moth did though and got some lovely pics.
I staggered around them like a drunkard wondering: 'why here?', 'why two?', 'why so close?' and 'how the hell am I going to get back to the car?'
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Lost secrets found in Menorca
3 June 2005
Seeing is believing
El Toro is Menorca's sacred mountain and can be seen lurking or dominating the horizon from almost every point on the island of Menorca. It is the highest mountain on the island, measuring 358ms above sea level. Certainly we could see it from just about every talaiot tower we visited. It had to be visited. Everyone traveller to Menorca should see it, and probably does.
Bristling with ugly communications towers, it is now inhabited by nuns who run a convent up there with café and tat-shop because somebody once had a vision of the Holy Virgin up there. Frankly, I'm not surprised. Imagine climbing that after no breakfast and little water in the midday heat. Reckon I'd start seeing things, too! Thankfully visitors can now drive to the summit in air conditioned vehicles to enjoy the astonishing views of a beautiful and largely sparsely populated island.
My children tittered with glee as I read out the inscription beneath an 18th century statue of a local monk who was 'interred beneath the altar in the church'. "In holy shit, perhaps?" Cleo mused. (Interred/in turd… geddit?)
Lost and found
Moth dropped me and the sprogs back at the beach for an afternoon of snorkelling while he went off stomping. There were a few sites he wanted to suss. Among them were Ses Roques Lisses, a Neolithic burial chamber, and Na Comerma, another taula sanctuary very close to Torre d'en Gaumes. Seeing Na Comerma would mean we had seen every complete taula on the island.
Despite helpful directions from the friendly young woman ticket collector whose name begins with 'A' at Gaumes, and much sweaty stomping around, Moth failed to find them. The young woman ticket collector, impressed at his enthusiasm, volunteered to take him and me there later in the evening after she finished work.
We returned and she took us straight there. Moth had been only metres away during his earlier stomp, but the density of the vegetation and the height of the field walls had conspired against him.
Ses Roques Lisses, which means 'the smooth flat rocks', is an open chamber formed by huge flat slabs of limestone, making roughly a double square 2ms x4ms. In common with the navetas and other Mediterranean sites, the entry stone has a doorway hole cut into it, just big enough for someone to squeeze through.
The slabs sit on their own platform of rubble kept in by a wall. It was once covered entirely with stones, like a cairn, I suppose.
It seemed like a very familiar sight and we loved it.
Lying almost lost and crumbling badly just 50ms away is the remarkable Na Comerma taula sanctuary. It should NOT be confused with what Julian calls Sa Comerma de sa Garitaon page 315 of TME. What Julian is referring to is part of the complex at Gaumes, whereas Na Comerma is a site away from Gaumes, independent in its own right.
It felt as if I'd been let in on local secret. I guess it is hardly ever visited. It would have been impossible to find without local knowledge and/or an extraordinarily detailed map. Though sizeable, so hidden by trees is it, that we didn't see it until we were vitually upon it.
From a terrible higgledy-piggledy mess of masonry rises a tiny taula which by some miracle (perhaps the Holy Virgin resident at El Toro?) still has its topstone.
Its upstone is half buried in rubble. You could make out part of a wall which once enclosed the sanctuary, perhaps once as thick as the one at Torre Llisa Vell (see previous weblog.)
In addition, there were beautiful ruins of what I read to be houses, with flat dressed cross-beams still mounted on top of their supports.
Absolute magic.
And the day was made complete when we spotted a tortoise. We'd seen a few small ones playing 'chicken' on the roads, but this one was safe from becoming roadkill.
They are a protected species now, their numbers having been cruelly depleted for the pet trade up until the late 20th century.
So a huge thank you to the delightful young woman ticket collector at Gaumes whose name begins with 'A' for showing us these two ancient secrets.
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Two Ts, please: Torre Blanca and Torre Llisa Vell
2 June
More from Menorca...
Torre Blanca, also known as Sa Torreta de Tramuntana, is an unusual monument as it lies in the northern half of the island, above Mahon towards Es Grau. It lies on an outcrop of limestone at the point where the geology seems to change to something more slate-like.
We'd see it on a couple of basic maps and thought we'd have a crack at finding it, despite having absurdly inadequate directions, having the kids with us, it being midday and very hot, and haing to go a long way from our favourite beach….
Our initial attempt took us up to the Favortx lighthouse in the national park, too far north. Our second attempt was more successful. Follow the main road north for about 5.3 kms after the roundabout leaving the Mahon ringroad. Then turn right by a small white building with orange painted detail and then immediately fork right. This leads us down a long narrow lane which eventually turns sharp right. Here a gate finally barred us from going any further. Privado. We parked, knowing we were close. Moth went stomping off for a look around.
A car pulled up. A man opened the gate and drove through. As he closed it I asked 'Torre Blanca?' He replied in Spanish which I didn't understand. He pointed and twiddled his fingers implying that we walk in the direction he was pointing. 'Gracias.' Not having a clue how far, we set off into the midday heat. Moth caught up having also asked the man for directions. After a pleasantly warm walk perhaps 1-1.5kms uphill we reached the farm, vaulted over the gate and asked a farm labourer who pointed behind the barn. Suddenly it was there. What a result!!!
From the top of the talaiot the views stretch over the tiny fields towards a bay and down the coast as far as Mahon, rocky land tumbling into the sea. Magic.
And the taula! Wooo! Great taula! Dinky and entirely self supporting, thanks to the vertical ridge at the back as at Torralba, it has that cheese-like colouring on the front I so admired at Trepuco. We liked it here muchos.
Torre Llisa Vell
After a busy day snorkelling, Moth and me left the kids at the villa, determined to discover the truth about Torre Llisa Vell.
Travellers shouldn't confuse the real Torre Llisa Vell with So Na Caçana, as Julian did in TME. The real one is a couple of fields north from So Na Caçana, as the hoopoe flies.
We had been very kindly given a map with all the monuments on, which specified complete taulas. Studying this and the accompanying notes in conjunction with TME, revealed an inconsistency which we couldn't understand. The map clearly stated their was a complete taula sanctuary at Torre Llisa Vell. Julian's notes for Torre Llisa Vell said there wasn't. The notes with the map also had separate sections on So Na Caçana and Torre Llisa Vell. We had to find out the truth.
To find it, continue up the road from So Na Caçana towards Alaoir for about 1km at the most, until you reach a minor crossroads. Turn left here and drive 300ms until you see a gate on the left to a farm called Torre Llisa Vell. Walk down this lane for 100ms and ask the friendly old man at the farmhouse on the right for permission and directions. He doesn't speak English, but Moth got the gist.
By now you will have already sussed that the great tree-covered lump on your left is an overgrown talaoit and if you look carefully, you'll see the crest of what looks like a naveta beneath it on the northern side. Walk about 10 ms past the farmhouse and then turn left. After only a few metres the track enters an open field, but to the left is another short track only a few metres long. At the end and you'll see a gate and a break in the on the right. Go up towards the gate and through the break in the wall. Can't you already smell it? Walk 25 metres through long grass and a few trees until to th left, you see a huge wall with an archway. You'll find the taula through that archway.
The wall enclosing the taula sanctuary is very complete indeed – I have no idea if it has been restored or not, it certainly didn't look like it to me. It conforms to the standard ground plan of a horseshoe-shaped area with a slightly concave front entrance wall. In the case of Torre Llisa Vell the entrance is a beautiful corbelled arch through the wall which is an amazing 4ms thick. True!
Given that the entire sanctuary measures only – what? – 12ms in total, these walls seem totally out of proportion. They are also maybe 3ms high, so whatever went on within the sanctuary was not for general viewing. I also noted that the entrance passageway through the wall wouldn't have allowed the entry of a fully grown bull.
At least not a modern bull. P'raps they were smaller then, or they only sacrificed calves?
The T itself is a chunky beast and completely dominates the internal space. The stone forming the top of the T being thicker, heavier and wider in proportion with the vertical stone than at any other taula we saw.
From the top of the wall, you could see the poblat of So Na Caçana lying directly south, just about 400-500ms away.
This is a truly resplendent monument! We were both completely blown away and so sorry that Julian missed it. Be sure you don't. In fact, take your copy of TME now, go to pages 320 and 321 and cross out the title of the page 'Torre Llisa Vell' and replace with 'So Na Caçana'. There. Confusion over.
More Menorcan magic here...
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Habitat: Commonly sighted in fields round Oxfordshire and Wiltshire.
Distribution: Widespread; occasional migrations to overwinter in Africa or other hot climes.
Characteristics: A tall, blonde, opinionated bird with feisty temper when provoked. Prone to spells of gloom during winter months. Usually sporting dark plumage, except for golden head, can often spotted with sketchbook and brushes near megalithic sites.
Feeding habits: Easily tempted with cheese (any variety) or a nice cup of tea. Unfeasibly fond of curry.
Behaviour: Unpredictable, approach cautiously. Responds very favourably to flattery.
Abhors: slugs, invisible sky gods, Tories, the Daily Mail, bigots, eggs, the cold, walking and timewasting.
Adores: a man called Moth, painting, live music, furry creatures, tea administered frequently, hot places, cheese, writing crap poetry, David Attenborough, Ernest Shackleton, Vincent van Gogh and the English language.
Want more?: see her website.
Big old rocks I find appealling
Their secrets they are not revealing
Some are chambers, some are tombs
Hidden in valleys and in combes
Some are said to act like clocks
With shadows cast out from their rocks
I like the way they just survive
When I visit, I feel alive
So I chase my rocks around the maps
Round England, Ireland and France, perhaps
But there ain't nothin' that I liked so much
As to see the Hunebedden, dem is Dutch.
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