16th century – erica goes traveling

Garfinny Bridge

while our guide material made reference to the Garfinny Bridge, it still came as a pleasant surprise. (partly due to the fact that we hadn’t seen a way marker in some time and I’d begun to fear we might have missed a turn.) situated “just” outside of Dingle (if you are in a car … still about an hour if you’re on foot), sources claim it is the oldest surviving stone bridge in all of Ireland. it dates from sometime in the 16th century and, like most bridges of its era, was constructed without mortar — just radial stones and clay to secure everything using a corbelling technique. the apex of the arch stands about 3 meters over the river surface.

the informational plaque indicates that the troops of Lord Deputy Arthur Grey may have crossed this bridge on their way to massacre some 600 Irish, Italian and Spanish rebels at Smerwick Bay. Grey, along with some 6,000 recruited soldiers, had been sent to Ireland in 1580 as Lord Deputy to put down the Second Desmond Rebellion. he was largely successful in stifling the rebellion, but even at the time some of his actions were questioned, such as the massacre at Smerwick. (he also executed a former chief justice for suspicion that the man supported the rebellion.) many say he promised the rebels safety if they surrendered their weapons and position, a promise that he soon broke, giving rise to the term “Grey’s faith.”

by the 19th century, the bridge had begun to collapse and people opted to ford the river a bit upstream. in the late 20th century, the bridge was restored to its current condition, which found us crossing the river by it rather than the nearby modern road.

Triacastela

after the distinct character of O’Cebreiro, hiking for 28 days, and the increasing presence of new peregrinos, I found it increasingly difficult to appreciate the character and charm of the some of the places we stayed in Galicia. perhaps the damp weather exacerbated my sense of ambivalence, but the new faces and increased commercialization of the small towns, seeking desperately to meet some unasked need of the new peregrinos didn’t help.

we didn’t have lodging booked in Triacastela and stumbled upon an albergue near the start of town and off the main road. we snagged perhaps the last two bunks in the place, which was clean enough if charmless. the communal space was somewhat odd and didn’t allow for much lounging. we found a restaurant around the corner for our big daily meal and then took a look around the village. even if we’d found the last two beds in the village, I felt a little cheated; while our albergue was on the main highway through town, the heart of the village was the other road, the one we’d deviated from to find our lodging. it was filled with cafes and several different lodgings of varying quality and after having such luck finding quaint or character-filled lodgings without notice, it was a bit of a let-down. one of my books likened it to the contrast found in Puente la Reina (way back on day 4) where the Camino passed along both a major motorway lined with modern (drab) apartment buildings and through the medieval buildings at the center of town.

the three castles from which the village takes its name dated from the 10th century but none remain standing; according to my cultural history book, they were all likely destroyed by Norman raiders in the middle of the 10th century and nothing remains of them today. (could you blame locals for carrying off a heap of already-quarried stones for their own uses?) despite the lack of stately accommodation, the town drew numerous royals for visits over the centuries. in the 13th century, Alfonso IX of León took a liking to the town and visited frequently, even going so far as to appoint the local mayor; his son took a liking to the Galician language, Gallego, and had troubadours perform songs at court in Gallego. shortly thereafter (in 1248), Fernando III gathered town representatives in the village to raise funds for his campaign to reconquer Sevilla. in May 1554, Prince Felipe II (later King … of several countries with varying strength-of-claim) spent the night in Triacastela before continuing to England to marry his aunt, Mary, who also happened to be recently-crowned Queen of England.

Convento de San Marcos – a site to behold …

while sufficiently impressive as a structural marvel, the building occupying the Plaza San Marcos — once a monastery, now an up-scale hotel — has a rather remarkable back-story to go with it. in the 12th century, Alfonso VII provided funding at the behest of Dona Sancha to construct a simple building outside the walls of León to serve peregrions, later becoming headquarters for the Knights of the Order of Santiago. by the mid-15th century, however, the structure was mostly in ruins and offered little in the way of services for peregrinos; improvements were recommended but little done for another eighty years or so, when a grant from Ferdinand prompted the demolition of the modest accommodations for replacement by the far grander building that stands today.

consecrated in 1524, the church and attached convent was designed by architect Juan de Orozco (church), with help from Martin de Villareal (facade) and Juan de Badajoz (the Younger — cloister and sacristy). Ferdinand fired the original architect when the project did not proceed at his desired pace; this decision proved only partially successful as it took a further two hundred years to complete the structure.

one of the most impressive examples of a plasteresque facade in the Renaissance style, work on the the front of the building in San Marcos began in 1515, was interrupted in about 1541 and resumed in 1615, and features an array of portraits of important historical and mythical figures. the medallions sought to exemplify human virtue and include such notables as Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Hercules and Hector, El Cid … and an array of Spanish political figures of the period whose names have largely faded into obscurity. to say some seemed out of place next to momentous such momentous figures of history, religion and myth is a monumental understatement. (yes, yes I did that on purpose.) the plinths above all these medallions were designed to display sculptures but funding ran out; seems in the best for the impressive array of grotesques adorning the rest of the facade — sirens, sphinxes, winged horses, dolphins, dragons, and more. in 1715, the crowning piece was installed over what is now the entrance to the Parador — a Baroque depiction of Santiago Matamoros (Santiago the Moor Slayer … have I discussed that story yet?). in addition to grotesques and medallions, the buildings are also covered in scallop shells — the sign of Santiago.

Santiago Matamoros

Burgos Cathedral

I’ve seen my fair share of cathedrals and the exterior of the Burgos Cathedral, at least, has something to recommend itself. before a crowd that included monarchs and church officials, construction began in July of 1221 to replace the Romanesque cathedral commissioned by Alfonso VI (in the late 11th century); the majority of the project concluded nine years later. Maurico, bishop to Fernando III (el Santo) spearheaded fundraising, even donating a portion of his fortune, and convinced the Pope to issue indulgences to major contributors.

the first mass took place in 1230; the high altar consecrated in 1260; and the installation of a lantern spire over the main cross officially completed construction in 1567. the cathedrals in Paris and Reims heavily influenced the architects, while the spires echoed German examples popular during the 16th century. the immense cruciform floor plan makes for impressive proportions; when the openwork lantern vault was completed in 1568, King Felipe II said it was the “work of angels, not of men.” some 15 chapels circle the nave and in 1921, the remains of El Cid and his wife were brought to lay at the crossing of the transept. it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1984.

Parador Santo Domingo Bernardo de las Fresneda

cloisters of the monastery

in contrast to the tumbleweed quiet of Cirueña, Santo Domingo de la Calzada was positively bustling. based on the fact it has not one but three Parador hotels it’s something of a destination.

not your average hotel bar

the Parador we stayed in was the newest of the three, converted from the San Francisco monastery; the guest rooms are located in what previously held the hospital de peregrinos and consist of an array of twin and double rooms. as I stood looking out the hatch-like windows in to the courtyard, I had to wonder what previous occupants looked like, how they lived, and what brought them to the room in which I now stood.

a 16th century Franciscan gave his name to the monastery, presumably because he was buried in the monastery after dying here while on the road. in addition to being a comisario general de cruzada (acting on a bull granted by the Pope to help bring Christianity back to Spain and expel Muslims), Bernardo de Fresneda was confessor to King Philip II and bishop of Cueneca. he was traveling to Zaragoza to take up the newly bestowed position of archbishop when he died in Santo Domingo en route.

we had some good food here; while we’d enjoyed a wonderful spread at the Palacio Guendulain in Pamplona, this hotel introduced us to both a wonderful bottle of wine, consumed while waiting for restaurants to re-open for dinner, and the magnificent breakfast spread offered by Paradores. *nomnomnom*

the walled city of Pamplona

of all the medium-to-large sized cities we walked through, nothing compared with the approach to Pamplona. it was damp during the last several kilometers, but not enough to properly be called “rain.” unlike later cities (looking at you, Burgos) the suburban sprawl to the east of Pamplona is limited and relatively picturesque. after crossing over the river, the walls of the city loom up suddenly behind the trees and demand a moment to take them in.

in 75-74 BCE, Pompey set up camp on the site of what is now Pamplona, establishing the village that over centuries grew into the city we see today. it later became the primary city of the Vascones (Basques), called Iruña. the intervening centuries saw the city controlled by all manner of rulers — Visigoths, Basques, Muslims. for a period after the Muslim conquest of Pamplona in 715, things remained stable as the Basques near the Pyrenees seemed disinterested in repulsing or ousting the Moorish troops and the city may have even flourished. as the 8th century progressed, however, control over Pamplona vacillated between Moorish and Frankish control with neither side able to gain satisfactory control. in 778 as he fled back towards the Pyrenees, Charlemagne is said to have destroyed the walls of the city (if not the entire city) in a bid, as mentioned, to prevent his enemies from using it in the future. this went counter to agreements he’d made not to attack the city walls and may have spurred Basque rebels into the ambush and battle that destroyed his rearguard in Roncevaux Pass.

city prospects revived again in the 11th century, helped by the flow of peregrinos along the Camino. the city enlarged with two additional boroughs in the 12th century — meaning three distinct (and often conflicting) towns existed within the city’s fortress walls. the king unified the boroughs into one city in 1423, which remained the capital of the autonomous kingdom of Navarra after its annexation to Spain in 1512. Castilian conquest a year later and advancements in military technology prompted enhancements to the city defenses, including the construction of a massive star for on the city’s south and fortification of the city walls. the walls we passed through date from the late 16th to 18th centuries.

because of the city’s military importance, the walls restricted growth — expansion had to go up rather than out, resulting in tall buildings, warren-like streets, and a dearth of open spaces and courtyards. by the end of the 19th century, housing density reached a critical limit and modifications to the star fort allowed an expansion by six city blocks. woo! three decades later, however, the advent of the First World War and its attendant military advancements rendered Pamplona’s existing defenses useless and in short order the southern wall was demolished to allow for rapid urbanization and expansion from the 1920s to the 1950s and into the present day.

Pamplona is the home to the University of Navarra (ranked as the best private university in Spain and the campus of which we walked through on our way out of the city) as well as the infamous Opus Dei, which operates the University. city industry is diversified with the automotive industry making up the largest part. renewable energies are also increasing their presence in the economic sector — which is evinced by the line of wind turbines dotting the ridge to the west of the city (about which more in my next post). nearby Sarriguren is home to the National Centre for Renewable Energies.

and of course there’s the (in)famous running of the bulls every year in July during the Festival of San Fermín. can’t say I’m sad we missed it — there’s no way we would have gotten a room at our awesome hotel and would have had to contend with thousands of people while we made our way wearily out of town just as they’re releasing the bulls.

St. Jean-Pied-de-Port: a beginning with history

looking west down the Rue de la Citadelle from the Porte St-Jacques

the peregrinos that started coming from “beyond the Pyrenees” in the 12th century were overwhelmingly French, in part because of protection provided by the Kingdom of France. enterprising individuals followed the peregrinos from France and set up hospitals, hospices, inns, and other businesses catering to the needs of those trekking to Santiago. four separate routes originated in France –including the route we followed from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, over the foothills and into Roncesvalles — and converged on Puente la Reina beyond Pamplona.

for those walking “the whole way” St. Jean-Pied-de-Port is the most popular point of departure and head of the Camino Frances. plenty of people start in Roncesvalles or Pamplona instead, avoiding the arduous 1300m ascent (and descent) but coming from St. Jean affords a certain degree of pride and bragging rights. besides, after a climb that challenging and long when your body isn’t sure yet what you’ve gotten into you are prepared for anything over the next 775 or so kilometers.

St. Jean-Pied-de-Port (St. Jean at the foot of the mountain pass), or Donibane Garazi in Euskara, lies about 8km over the French border straddling the Nive River. the area was settled before the 11th century and, after the destruction of the original settlement in 1127, the King of Navarre had the town reestablished in its present location to fortify the northern defenses of his territory. over the centuries, the location proved strategically important — as a stopping point on the Camino, a trade center, on the route through the mountain pass to Roncesvalles, a military outpost and garrison. the King built a fortress on a hill to make it easier to defend the pass and the town became a key urban center in northern Navarre and important defense against attempts to advance on Pamplona.

in the early 16th century, the unification of Aragon and Castille (through the marriage of Ferdinand & Isabella) resulted in the defeat of the Kingdom of Navarre and, ultimately, closer ties with France in an effort to repel their mutual Spanish enemy. in 1620, Louis XIII (descended from Kings of Navarre) unified the Kingdoms of Navarre and France. as before, St. Jean proved a vital defensive component in the bitter rivalry between antagonistic kingdoms. advances in weapons technology resulted in a more “modern” fort, roughly similar to what exists today. over more than a century the structure was modified, fortified, and improved upon. the town suffered throughout the Revolutionary period and Napoleonic wars, serving as the center of a massive military encampment from which numerous attacks were launched on Spanish cities over the mountains. the town hosted a military garrison until 1920.

the main cobbled road through town retains many of the same features established in the middle ages. the Porte St-Jacques stands on the eastern end of the old town, while the Porte d’Espagne stands at the other. our hotel was one block over, outside the historic center in an area built up in the mid-to-late 19th century, spurred by the Enlightenment and construction of a train station in 1898. houses on along the rue de la Citadelle have changed little and some still bear markings from construction or inscriptions added centuries ago.

because we arrived in St Jean late on Saturday evening, we had to wait until the Pilgrim Office in the rue de la Citadelle opened so that we might obtain our first sellos — stamps verifying we’d walked from St. Jean and were therefore entitled, as peregrinos, to stay in the aulbergue in Roncevalles. as we waited, we walked up the hill to the Port St-Jacques and took a peek at the Citadelle, duly impressed with the centuries of history surrounding us and knowing these streets and walls weren’t the oldest sights we’d encounter on our journey.

a brief history of Key West

the first European visitor to Key West was Ponce de Leon while native peoples populated or at least used the island prior to his arrival. when de Leon’s men arrived, bones covered the island, possibly from a battle or because it served as a burial ground, which prompted them to call it Cayo Hueso, or Bone Island. when Florida became a Spanish colony, the island became a fishing village and small garrison. original Spanish settlers relocated to Cuba following when Britain claimed control, but back-and-forth between the powers resulted in a lack of oversight of the island for a significant portion of the 18th and early 19th centuries. at various points in its early history, the island was sold simultaneously to two men who subsequently fought one another; a military officer controlled the island using martial law as a military dictator; served as a strategic salvage village on a crucial deep-water channel through the Gulf of Mexico.

during the 1800s, immigrants from the Bahamas, known as Conchs, began to populate the island. today Key West is often referred to as the “Conch Republic,” with it’s own flag and strong sense of identity among natives (and accepted “freshwater” transplants). they were later joined by all manner of famous and infamous Americans, from Dr. Samuel Mudd to Ernest Hemingway to Jimmy Buffett to Harry S Truman.

Key West has long served as an important military and shipping outpost, as it sits on the northern edge of Florida Straits, separating the Atlantic from the Gulf. there’s a Naval Air Station on Boca Chica Key, where pilots train; the USS Maine sailed from there to its fate and the outbreak of the Spanish-American War; all number of cruise ships dock in the port before heading to more Caribbean locales. all those non-native short-term visitors certainly don’t help the feeling that the town is something of an unapologetic tourist trap though, as I mentioned before, if you get away from Duval Street and Mallory Square, it doesn’t seem like a bad place to while away some time.

a little pension luxury

after spending a week sleeping on planes and in hostels, I relished the idea of spending a night in a town too small to have something so large as a multi-bed hostel. after staying an extra night in Český Krumlov I had one free night before my reservation in Olomouc. because Czech Republic is relatively small (by U.S. standards, at least — it’s about the same area as Ireland) the drive from the former to the latter is only about four hours, though something closer to six by bus via a slightly more complicated route.

consequently, I had a rather extensive list of places I could explore for twelve hours as resting place on my way to Olomouc via Brno. on the recommendation of a fellow traveler I’d met at the Krumlov House (whose opinion validated those of both my guidebooks), I settled on Telč, a town of about 5,800 people on the road to Třebíč and Brno. established in the 14th century as a water fort, the town is now best known for its impeccably-preserved and colossal main square. after the death of Moravian governor Lord Zachariáš in 1589, construction around the square ceased and it has remained largely unchanged since then. (the square is named after him: náměstí Zachariáše z Hradce.)

View Larger Map

apart from the square and the castle (which closed about an hour after I arrived in town), Telč didn’t offer much in the way of sights to occupy me. after dinner of Kozel and an extremely odd pizza with Czech-ketchup sauce (apparently quite popular but so, so, so odd) overlooking the square, followed by a walk around town that took all of 15 minutes, I retired to my private (en suite!) room at a pension on the square. sticking my head out through the skylight of my room, I could see one of the two artificial defensive ponds that enclose the center of town. rooms at the back of the pension had an exceptional view of both the back garden and pond beyond, while the owner’s apartments at the front overlooked the town square. imagine living behind a six century old facade, running a business that overlooks a pond built to defend a 16th century castle? (if you ever find yourself in Telč, check out the Pension Steidler — nice people, great location, and the most extensive breakfast I had my entire trip.)

Trim Castle

there are many, many things to see in the Boyne River valley. Tara, Slane, Newgrange, Knowth, Dowth, Trim, Battle of the Boyne … and as with much of the rest of Ireland, the area is drenched in history spanning thousands of years.

the Castle at Trim was one of the few places where I decided to take the OPW tour, partly because it was the only way to get inside the keep, partly because it was departing the moment I arrived, and partly because I was quite interested in learning more about the site. the Castle was built primarily by Hugh de Lacey, who took possession in 1172 from Henry II, who was interested in stifling the expansionist ideas of Strongbow. it’s on a raised bit of land at a fording point right on the River Boyne. consequently, even though it’s some 25 miles from the Irish Sea, it was still rather accessible by water. initially, it had twenty corners, which made it exceedingly defendable (one of the towers disappeared after the Castle was neglected and left to ruin). the construction of the entrances and staircases, our guide mentioned, was such that it gave patent advantage to a (right-handed) defender. any (right-handed) attacker attempting to overtake the keep would be at a disadvantage because their right side would be open to attack while climbing narrow, circular stairs.

officially, the Castle is “John’s Castle,” after the King of England. fearing that de Lacey was getting to powerful, John showed up with some 5,000 armed men as a reminder of where power rightly lay. de Lacey, suitably cowed by the show of force, offered the Castle up to John, who shortly left and never thought about the place again.

also, during the Middle Ages, the Castle was the northernmost boundary of British control in Ireland–the Pale. to venture beyond Trim was to enter into territory defended and held by Irish clans; not a good idea for an Englishman.

in the 16th century, the last of the family holding the Castle died and it fell into disrepair. after changing hands several more times, including some interesting Cromwellian machinations, the Castle was abandoned and left alone until restoration/excavation work began in the 1990s.