Tag: castle

Minard Castle

one thing we kept realizing during the course of our hike was how much more spectacular the terrain proved on a daily basis, compared to Spain. we certainly saw some incredible, remarkable, breathtaking things in Spain, but there were also a lot of long, dull, unremarkable days. the route of the Camino was about getting from point a to b to c to d to z, more with a mind to the least arduous and most expeditious route. even if you set out on a pilgrimage with an eye to commune with a higher power or to explore and express your faith in religion, you don’t necessarily want that to take longer than it absolutely has to.

hiking the Dingle Way was completely different. the point of the hike is to enjoy it, to see the views, to take it all in. you’re walking in a loop! starting out you know you’ll end up in precisely the same place (quite literally, in our case). that makes the unexpected discoveries that pop up along the route all the more exciting — you’re supposed to be finding, seeing, and enjoying these things and when there’s no pressure to get to your destination at a certain time (*ahem* securing a bed in an albergue), you can take longer to enjoy them.

one of those places was Minard Castle, perched on a hill a few kilometers outside of Anascaul on an inlet overlooking the Iveragh peninsula

a and a remarkable large-stone beach. it was built during the 16th century by the Fitzgeralds, merchants and traders who controlled much of the region beginning in the fourteenth century, of sandstone and mortar. remains of three stories remain today, though a fourth story or attic space likely existed at one point. in the 17th century, Cromwellian forces detonated charges at the base of a corner, damaging but not destroying the building. subsequently, all the residents were killed in skirmishes with Cromwellian forces and that, coupled with the damage done by the explosion, meant no one made an effort to rehabilitate the structure. today it’s stands, technically out-of-bounds and unstable, though next to such a picturesque beach, it’s hard to imagine that everyone stays out.

Villafranca del Bierzo

thinking back, it’s kind of impressive how much stuff got crammed into day 26 on our Camino — the Castillo de los Templarios in Ponferrada, TAL episode #465, tasting at Cuatro Pasos, taking a potentially risky shortcut to shave off a couple of kilometers at the end of the day, Brent Spiner on the Nerdist, and the second-craziest shower I experienced while in Spain. I suppose it should come as no surprise then just how relieved we were to stumble into our boutique hotel in Villafranca del Bierzo, Hotel Las Doñas del Portazgo. (if you ever find yourself in Villafranca del Bierzo, I recommend it).

the earliest settlements around Villafranca date from the neolithic age and there’s evidence to suggest it served as an important hub for communication during the Roman period, sitting as it does at the confluence of two rivers (the Burbia and Valcarce) at the western edge of the Bierzo basin and at the foot of the narrow pass that ascends to O Cebriero and Galicia beyond. in the 11th century, the sister of Alfonso VI granted a church to Cluny for establishing a monastery that began cultivating wine. this, along with the explosion of peregrinos during the 12th century, gave rise to a sizable foreign population including many French who aided developing wines. by the middle of the century more than half the town’s inhabitants were foreign.

the city flourished for several centuries because of the Camino and in 1486 the Catholic Monarchs established the Marquesado in the town; the second man to hold the title, Pedro Álvarez de Toledo, built a castle though the one that overlooks the valley and town dates from the 1490s and was recently restored to clean up the damage done when the French burned it in 1812. following the second Marques’ death, the city endured its first of many significant hardships that concluded with the burning of the castle by the French. the plague decimated the town’s population in 1589; a flood washed out much along the river in 1715; during the Peninsular War the town served as headquarters for the Galician army and was sacked three times by the English until finally, after the municipal archives were burned, churches robbed, and castle wrecked in 1810 Spain regained control of the area. sort of — the French briefly occupied the town following the expulsion of the English. twelve years later el Bierzo was declared an independent province with Villafranca as its capitol; that lasted two years.

much of the late medieval and Renaissance character remains in Villafranca (as much of the modern industrial revolution passed the city over) including several well-preserved churches. subsequent to its construction in 1186, the Iglesia de Santiago offered ailing peregrinos an alternative to crossing the remaining 187 kilometers of the Camino; if you were too ill or too injured to continue on to Santiago you could pass through the northern entrance — the Puerta del Perdon — and receive a pardon for your sins as you would at the cathedral in Santiago if only you were physically capable of continuing onward. along the narrow streets are facades you might imagine lining prosperous towns of the middle ages — sturdy construction with impressive stonework — though care for these buildings varies widely.

our hotel stood at the end of one such street; it used to serve as the gatehouse for the bridge over the rio Burbia and has been attentively restored and updated; while the entire place exudes comfort, during the update process they left elements of the original building exposed to give a sense of what the place might have felt and looked like a century ago. while the hotel at the end of the road was lovingly restored, there were many other buildings along the way that hadn’t received the same attention. from the refurbished window balcony of one updated home you could look directly into the dilapidated and burned-out husk of another once-magnificent home that hadn’t received the same attentions. Villafranca del Bierzo was clearly thriving, but it didn’t take much to see signs of the common challenges afflicting the rest of Spain.

Castillo de los Templarios

one of the more unexpected discoveries we made in the last stages of the Camino was the Castillo de los Templarios in Ponferrada, the last large town before entering the eagerly-anticipated province of Galicia. the modern city is situated at the convergence of the Sil an Boeza rivers in the middle of the Bierzo plain (known for wine, among other things!) though the earliest settlement on the site date from pre-Roman times. it thrived as a mining district under Roman control but suffered destruction with Visigoth and Moorish invasions prior to the 11th century. the name derives from a bridge, built to transport peregrinos over one of the rivers, that had reinforcing elements made of iron (Pons Ferrata = Iron Bridge).

towards the end of the 12th century, the kingdom granted control of the city to the Knights Templar as a base from which they might protect peregrinos as they traversed the Camino. though the influence of the Templars proved short-lived (as they found themselves expelled from Spain about a century later), their legacy endures in the enormous Castillo de los Templarios perched on a hill overlooking the confluence of the two rivers. in 1178 Fernando II donated the ruins of a Roman (and later Visigoth) fort to the Templars for the purpose of building their own fortifications. they completed the massive structure (which now encompasses about 16,000 square meters, or more than 172,000 square feet) between 1218 and 1282 — insanely fast for something so expansive — but lost the castle some 20 years later when all the Templar Knights were placed under arrest by the Pope who ultimately dissolved the Order in 1312.

— an aside: in 2001 a researcher discovered a parchment in the Vatican archives that someone misfiled in 1628. dating from April of 1308, the “Chinon Parchment” demonstrates that, prior to completely dissolving the the Order, Pope Clement V absolved all the Templar Knights from the charges levied against them. compounded by other evidence on the issue, the Roman Catholic Church now acknowledges that the persecution of the Knights Templar was unjust, nothing in their order was inherently wrong, and that the Pope suffered undue pressure from the King of France (who was also his cousin).

after the Knights lost possession of the castle dispute over control raged for centuries, passing back and forth between noble and royal families and enduring sieges and attacks from all manner of opponents. in one more unbelievable series of exchanges, following an unfavorable judgement Rodrigo Osorio took control of the castle in 1483 in opposition to Fernando & Isabel; after a settlement he vacated temporarily in 1485 but shortly changed his mind and re-took the castle; the scenario repeated itself again in 1507, but Fernando, fed up with the game, finally confiscated the castle permanently for the Crown. in 1558 the caretaker appointed by the crown (the Marques de Villafranca) purchased the castle from the Crown; in the 17th and 18th centuries a city magistrate oversaw care of the castle on behalf of the Crown. in the early 19th century during the War of Independence it served as garrison and was once again attacked. in the 1850s, the city began to sell stones from the building for use in the construction of new buildings and sidewalks throughout the city. preservation and restoration began in the 1924 when the site received recognized status as a national landmark.

due to an unfortunate consequence of timing, we couldn’t do much beyond walk up to the (closed) front gate of the castle and then enjoy breakfast in view of its massive walls. if we’d read ahead more thoroughly and known the castle stood on our route we might have pushed on beyond Moliaseca and stayed in Ponferrada — it would have made the climb down from the Cruz de Ferro more challenging, but would have made the hot, challenging trek to Villafranca del Bierzo slightly less arduous. three more kilometers would have proven challenging, but … the castle was built in two phases — under the Templars in the 13th century and again under unknown direction in the 15th century. the south-facing entrance has a bridge over a moat and a double gate including barbican. the coats of arms over the front door illustrate the changing oversight of the castle.

Castillo de Castrojeriz

the hill overlooking Castrojeriz has been fortified since Celtiberiena times (the final centuries BCE) — the location on a steep-sided mesa in the midst of the Meseta Alta is remarkably defensible. Romans defended roads to Galician gold mines while later its location near the frontier of Muslim-held territory meant it endured frequent recaptures by Muslims and Christians. it fell permanently under Christian (Castillian) control due to the efforts of Nuno Nunuez in about 912 and received its first charter in 974, which sought to repopulate the area with Christians through a Second Grade of Knighthood that granted any soldier who owned a horse (of noble birth or not) a knighthood. this proved successful and the town grew and thrived as a fortified way station and commercial center that attracted many foreign merchants, as well as peregrinos.
archaeological excavations indicate pre-Roman habitation atop the meseta where the castle ruins now stand. the Visigoths likely built a fortified settlement which was overtaken and destroyed during one of many Moorish attacks. once Nuno Nunez secured the town under Christian control, the castle was reconstructed during the Middle Ages by the powerful Condes de Castro. their luck didn’t last long, however, as siding with the losing side in the Guerra de los Comunidades against Carles V in 1521 boded ill for the town, which slid into decline.
Santa Maria del Manzano
the old town, which runs about mid-way down the hill, is one of the longest existing urban medieval routes that the Camino follows. we stayed in a splendid hotel along that road, just a few steps from a church that had, among other adornments, a skull and crossbones carved into the wall. unlike some of the small towns we walked through, most of the houses along that main street were renovated or at least had been kept up. 
there are a total of four churches in Castrojeriz: Santa María del Manzano de Castrojeriz (begun in 1214); Santo Domingo (now a museum); Santiago de los Caballeros (now in ruins, but with the carved skulls on the walls to “warn passers-by to heed the inevitability of death”); San Juan de los Caballeros (13th century and probably the most ornate and elaborate). Leonor de Castilla y de Portugal, wife of Alfonso IV of Aragon, was buried in the Iglesia de Santa Maria after her assassination — on her nephew’s orders — in the castle in 1359.

Canterbury’s Norman Castle

first stop on this Great Britain tour is the Norman Castle in Canterbury; seeing the Cliffs of Dover in one of the top-of-the-hour teaser videos actually inspired me to write about my adventures.

my trip to Canterbury is probably the one that has come up most often in the intervening years — one of my early misadventures that resulted in an interesting anecdote. Becca and I set off on one of our days off with an eye to visiting the site where, as one of our high school history teachers regaled us, Sir Thomas Becket was gruesomely martyred by men loyal to Henry II. (whether Henry II called for the hit remains a matter of hotly contested historical debate.) 

the day started out well enough, catching a train from Waterloo station towards Dover, but got complicated in short order. we failed to change trains at a key juncture — who knew that garbled announcement we heard as the train paused in Ashford directed us to change to another line for Canterbury? and deduced our mistake as the white cliffs of Dover rolled past the train window. thankfully, the return train towards London (via Ashford) departed within a few minutes of our unintended arrival and we successfully found ourselves in Canterbury a relatively short while later.

after a short visit to the Cathedral (possibly about which more later) we headed for the more interesting — to me at least — site of the Norman Castle, constructed shortly after the pivotal Battle of Hastings in 1066. following his victory at Hastings, William the Conqueror (aka William I) headed towards London via this road from Dover; to defend the road three motte-and-bailey castles were constructed, one of which stood on the site in Canterbury we visited.

the ruins we saw are from the stone keep constructed during the rein of Henry I. made of flint and sandstone chips, it was one three royal castles in Kent at the time; part of the enclosure reused the city wall originally constructed by the Romans.. by the 14th century, larger castles in Dover overshadowed this castle and it became a jail; by the 17th century it had fallen into ruin. it’s now owned and run by local authority and open to the public year round, which is why we were able to wander in and take a look around in the middle of a not-quite-drizzly afternoon.

the return journey, while successful, also presented an unwanted adventure that I’m sure at least one of us could have done without. all in all, though, I enjoyed the day trip and getting to see a structure that has seen innumerable changes over centuries and centuries.

Castillo de Villamayor de Monjardin

Sierra Urbasa to the north of the Camino

the castle of San Esteban de Deyo watches over the town of Villamayor du Monjardin, which was likely established by Sancho el Fuerte at the end of the 12th century. the base of the castle is likely Roman, though it’s been reconstructed many times over the centuries — and was host to some kind of construction work when we saw it — and was one of the last strongholds of the Banu Qasi Muslims in the region, who were ultimately defeated in the 10th century. one version of events contends that Sancho Garces (of whom there was a statue near where we stopped for our mid-morning snack) captured the castle and town from the Moors in 914; another (a propaganda vehicle for French interests in Iberia, apparently) holds that Charlemagne defeated a Navarran prince who was holed up in the castle before going on to Najera to fight Ferragut.

the area was under Moorish control towards the end of the first millennium and there’s a fountain and/or cistern just outside the town to whom the Moors are said to have constructed. it’s been rebuilt and is rather picturesque, if not entirely enticing as a source to refill one’s water pack.

Fuente de Moros outside Villamayor

there are a surprising number of “Villamayors” in Spain (we stayed in another 20 days after this segment) and so, to mitigate the understandable confusion, in 1908 the Spanish government amended the names of all the Villamayors — often with the name of a nearby geographical feature, such as the hill upon which the castillo sits here.

interestingly, after a steady decline throughout the twentieth century, in the last thirty years the town’s population has grown. granted, that growth took it from 113 inhabitants in 1981 to 139 inhabitants in 2011.

Štramberk

as promised, more on the lovely Wallachian town that caused me to spend an entire day hiking.

Štramberk is situated in a notch in the foothills of the Beskydy mountains in the Moravian-Silesian Region. the two most famous sights are the castle, perched atop Bílá Hora, and Šipka Cave. the castle tower can be readily seen from the surrounding mountains — as I learned throughout my hike. the northern path from the town square takes you under an arch with the inscription ‘Cuius regio – eius religio – 1111’ (‘Whose realm, his religion’). I can’t find any conclusive explanation (at least in English) as to whether the Romans visited or occupied the site that early, but it seems possible. the town was formally established in 1359, though the first recorded settlement dates from 1211. 


the castle itself was constructed sometime in the 12th or 13th century, either by the Benešovic family or by Přemyslide princes (one of the oldest and most revered dynasties in Czech royal history). at some point, it fell into the keeping of the Knights Templar, but upon the abolition of the order reverted to the hands of the king and spent considerable time passing between owners. eventually, the Benešovic took possession, but by the mid-16th century the castle began to deteriorate. the city, who now owns the site, spruced up the structure that remains, including the recognizable cylindrical tower known as the Trúba. the tower is 40 m tall and 10 m in diameter and was covered at the turn of the 19th century and turned into a lookout tower under the guidance of a famous Prague architect.


the other famous site is a cave where, in 1880, the mandible of a Neanderthal child was found. archaeological excavation in the cave occurred between 1879-1893 and evidence suggests the cave was inhabited by Neanderthals and cave bears alternately. apparently, this was the first discovery of Neanderthal remains in a cultural context.


another interesting piece of history I discovered while researching for this post concerns “Štramberk ears”. I saw people eating these odd, cylindrical treats (check here for a picture), even carrying away bags of them. turns out, these treats stem from a Christian victory over Tartar invaders in 1241. townspeople managed to flood the Tartar camp and allegedly, when checking the wreckage for spoils, found bags of severed ears, which the Tartars had removed from their victims to bring back to Genghis Khan to prove their kills. the inscription on the arch seems to allude to this victory as well — whomever rules the region gets to choose the practiced religion. ever since the defeat of the Tartars, people in Štramberk bake these ear-shaped biscuits to commemorate the event. today, only eight people are licensed to bake them, which explains why I saw Czechs carrying bags of “Štramberk ears” away with them.

(more information can be found here)
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Vladislav Hall

the most “castle”-like section of the Prague Castle that I visited was the Old Royal Palace, which occupies a chunk of the southern wing of the structure. the most striking feature of the wing is Vladislav Hall, which, Lonely Planet tells me, is famous for its beautiful, late-Gothic vaulted roof, rough wooden floors and vast, rustic spaces. of course for some reason photography was prohibited in the entirety of the Old Royal Palace, so you will have to imagine this impressive, high-vaulted space that was used for royal purposes like coronation festivities beginning in the 16th century. three original halls were combined into one space that became the “biggest vaulted interior space in Europe without inner supports”. despite the impressive ceiling and impressive spaciousness, the Hall still felt rather Medieval. stand at one end and you can see all the way into the chapel at the other end. to be honest, I’ve seen dining halls in stately homes more impressive. of course, those don’t have the weight of history. in the late 1990s, the Bohemian tradition of electing kings in the Hall was resurrected when members of parliament crowded into the space to elect the Czechoslovak/Czech president (the ceremony has since moved to a larger, more stately room in the palace).

the most unique aspect of Vladislav Hall, however, I have not seen replicated elsewhere. during rainy weather among many, many other things the Hall was used for jousting. I don’t know quite how mounted riders could get up to speed with such a relatively short start but that doesn’t seem to have mattered. the entrance to the Hall from the courtyard is sufficiently tall and wide to let a mounted soldier gallop up the stairs and into the space. I wager they cleared out the market stalls that occupied the space at other times (so that nobles needn’t mingle with the filth that roamed the streets of the city down the hill or across the river). although sealed up somewhat against the elements now, the Riders’ Staircase is wider and more stately than the castle entrance gate facing towards the city.

Prague Castle

two castles have defended the city of Prague from the hills of the Vltava River. the more famous of the two overlooks the Karluv Most (Charles Bridge) and Stare Mesto (Old Town). it’s been a long time since I’ve been inside a legitimate castle (the closest I’ve come since Windsor in the fall of 2004 was the appointed Castle In the Clouds in New Hampshire where my friends got married in 2008) and I’m not sure what I expected. by some measurements, it’s the largest in the world — the Guinness Book of World Records lists it as the largest coherent castle complex in the world and, put in those terms, it certainly does seem like that. there are three grand courtyards, the most spectacular church in Prague (and maybe the country), and a quaint artist lane tucked into a corner of the castle grounds.

the complex grew and morphed over 1200 years and expand into the extensive structure that exists today. really, it was rather difficult for me to comprehend it as a “castle” at all, since all of the such-named sights that I have visited have afforded one with a contained single, heavily-toured unit. none of these vast sections that are closed to the public, or areas that are still used as artist quarters, or going in and out of buildings throughout the complex and having your ticket stamped or torn at each stop. (thinking back more closely on my potential castle visits…) Trim Castle that I visited last year was a well-preserved relic of a castle. nothing so substantial as an original (or even authentically restored) roof or period-appropriate furnishings. perhaps it is a byproduct of the expectations of tourists for each site — the castle in Trim is beyond Bru na Boinne, well beyond Dublin and not necessarily on the radar or day-trip plan of traditional tourists. Prague Castle, on the other hand, is a primary destination for those who choose to visit Prague. how could it not be, dominating the city skyline as it does?

the weight of history of the place is not insignificant. the first walled building on the site was a castle and the Church of Our Lady in the 9th century, followed shortly thereafter by two basilicas and the first convent in Bohemia. there were periods of Romanesque inspiration, of Gothic inspiration, of modern inspiration, and of no inspiration at all, where the castle stood empty for periods. with the establishment of the Czechoslovak Republic the castle became the seat of presidential elections and other formal state functions, though the building suffered acute ill-treatment under both Nazi and Communist rule. it’s now been restored spectacularly (no surprise), and I’ll have more on the various sites on my tour ticket as we move forward.

(and, hopefully, I won’t go quite as long between posts as I have of late …)

Yellow Steeple


rising from a field just over the River Boyne from Trim Castle, the Yellow Steeple was once the bell tower of an abbey. so named for the color the stones appear at sunset, the structure dates from 1368 and the establishment of the Augustinian abbey of St. Mary’s in Trim. the site itself was well known as a pilgrimage destination during the medieval period, as it hosted a statue of the Blessed Virgin.

about three centuries later (around 1649), most of the abbey was dismantled or destroyed. in part, residents did not want the structure to fall into the hands of Oliver Cromwell’s forces for any use whatsoever and dismantled some of the structure to prevent that outcome, as occurred elsewhere for similar reasons. what remained, the Cromwellian forces did plenty to damage themselves. the steeple, reaching to some 125ft and originally part of the easternmost wall, is now all that remains of the original structure.