Tag: ruins

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.

Killelton oratory

as with anyplace whose history and tradition of building erection stretches beyond two centuries, the Dingle peninsula has plenty of abandoned, tumbled-down, excavated, and over-grown structures. one of the first excavated and preserved buildings we encountered was the Killelton oratory near Camp. the first written mention of it dates from the mid-19th century and excavations and fortifications were made in the 1890s — shoring up a wall that had collapsed due to subsidence caused by a drain in the floor.

complete excavations and renovation work took place in the late 1980s, beating back the vines overtaking the site. today, the walls of the oratory stand between 5 and 6 feet high, with space evident for both an eastern window and the western-facing door. I don’t know quite how it works, but evidence also exists for a hinged door. it dates from the 10th or 11th century, but evidence from the more recent excavation indicates habitation on the site prior to the construction of this oratory, and remaining foundations adjacent to the structure suggest more modern occupation. the sign indicated a grassy patch had been used for adult burials into the 19th century, while evidence suggested that infants had been buried inside the church “in recent times.” no items of particular archaeological significance were unearthed in the excavation, simply some quern fragments, hammer stones and polygonal black glass beads.

the oratory is on the old Dingle road from Tralee, which is to say it’s now mostly a grassy, shaded track filled with biting flies and livestock leavings. we also saw several abandoned and tumble-down buildings along the same route, none of which were spruced up or maintained as the oratory.

Tusayan Ruins

visiting the Grand Canyon at the end of January proves an understandably more subdued experience than making a trip in the height of the summer tourist season. off the main track on the road to the eastern entrance to the park, it’s a bit hard to imagine more than a handful of people exploring the Tusayan ruins on a given day during the peak of the year. that said, I am thankful we took the 20-odd mile trek to find it before heading back to Vegas.

storage rooms

people have inhabited the Colorado Plateau for thousands of years, first as hunter/gatherers, and later in established settlements, like Tusayan or those at Mesa Verde, as subsistence agriculture became the norm. people constructed this pueblo site around 1185 C.E., based on tree-ring data. at any time during the twenty years in which the site was inhabited, somewhere between 16 and 25 individuals lived in the pueblo. the excavated ruins consists of a series of living chambers, storage rooms, and a kiva. down the hill from the structure, a small parcel of farm land has also been identified. compared to the farms near which we live, it’s interesting to consider how a community of nearly two dozen people could subsist on a plot of that size, supplementing their diets with gathered plants and what animals they could hunt or trap.

evidence on the site suggests that a small, timber-construction kiva burned down and was replaced at some point with a much larger, stone one in the southeast corner of the compound. used for ceremonial activities, both kivas are larger than any other room in the complex. it’s large enough to for the entire community to gather comfortably, perhaps when colder winter weather kept them inside and the living quarters (really only large enough for sleeping) might prove a bit to close for comfort. the kiva ruins have a bench lining about half of the interior of the structure, with posts set into them to help support the roof of the kiva. entrance to the kiva was via a ladder that descended through a main hole in the roof; early kivas were often located underground, but by the time the Tusayan kivas were constructed, kivas were becoming more elaborate and were more likely to be constructed above-ground.

ruins of the larger kiva

there is no clear evidence as to why the inhabitants of this pueblo abandoned it after only twenty years, though it may have had something to do with conflict with other people nearby. charred timber ruins at other once-inhabited sites around the Colorado Plateau suggest that fighting among bands of people in the region was likely common. whatever the reason, Tusayan was largely left alone until the early 20th century, as tourism to the Grand Canyon became more popular. in 1928, a “trailside museum” sponsored by Laura Spelman Rockefeller (wife to John D. Rockefeller) in the style of a Hopi structure was erected to introduce tourists to the site. two years later, a group from the Gila Pueblo Archaeological Foundation of Globe, Arizona (founded by a New York stockbroker) began investigating and excavating the site further. preservation took place in 1948 and again in 1965, and the government placed the site on its National Register of Historic Places in 1974.

Foncebadón

something we saw increasingly as we headed from León to Galicia were completely abandoned villages, or villages with two or even one permanent resident. this concept came up for the first time as we walked through the first town beyond Rabanal del Camino — Foncebadón. whereas Rabanal had not only several albergues, two hotels, casa rurales, a neighborhood store, and two cafes its closest neighbor only boasted  three small, moderately-equipped albergues, one of which also served as the town’s only pub.

during the middle ages, however, the town flourished, nestled on a sheltered ridge just below the pass over the Irago Mountains on the Roman-built road that wends its way towards the gold mines of Bierzo in one direction and far distant Italy in the other. for a time, it was the preferred (and only safe) route and received approval and development support from a number of monarchs over the centuries. vivacity of the town dwindled steadily from about the 16th century as the stream of peregrinos slowed; wars and new roads kept people away or sent the few travelers along other paths over the mountains.

by the early 1970s not only were most of the peregrinos gone, but so were virtually all inhabitants. as one of my guidebooks put it, in 1974, the village was in its “death throes” with only 4 inhabitants tending a couple of cows and sheep; by 1990 it was only a mother and son. — “Our pilgrims were permitted to lay sleeping bags on straw in one of the two houses in the village still having a semblance of a roof.” it sounded as if the buildings of Foncebadón crumbled and collapsed with each successive group they shepherded along the Camino until virtually nothing structurally reliable remained. all of which is to explain why we opted for Rabanal instead of hiking the extra 6 kilometers to this near ghost town.

staying over would have probably proven a unique Camino experience; at least we wouldn’t have needed to sleep out in the elements… (which gets me thinking — where along the Camino did Martin Sheen and his companions have to sleep outdoors? perhaps reason enough to go back and watch it to determine if I can pinpoint the general vicinity.) we ran into the Australian couple from San Martin while noshing in Molinaseca (our destination this day) and they related their experience of staying overnight in Foncebadón. very quite and somewhat eerie are the terms that come to mind. as I said, there are some refurbished buildings to cater to peregrinos, but more remain abandoned. in the second picture above you can see the patchwork metal roof on the left barely keeping out the weather and, presumably, just keeping the building from giving up sooner rather than later.

as for the cross in the above image, I forget the origins — perhaps something to do with erecting crosses in order to get a tax exemption — but there were signs asking peregrinos not to leave rocks at the base of each. two kilometers beyond the village is the Cruz de Ferro (about which more shortly) where the growing mound is an important Camino milestone and where people are invited to leave behind pebbles. for the few villagers, however, it seems an undue additional burden to keep the non-Cruz-de-Ferro free of pebbles from over-eager peregrinos.

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.

San Anton outside Castrojeriz

just before arriving in Castrojeriz are ruins of an old monastery and hospital de peregrinos — San Antón de Castrojeriz. Alfonso VII helped underwrite the original hospital and church in 1146, though the remaining buildings date primarily from the 14th and 15th centuries. hospices run by the Order of San Antón (Saint Anthony), sprung up all over Europe — first in France and later in Spain, Italy, and elsewhere — were known for their success in alleviating or curing various ailments, though ergot poisoning was chief among them. (ergot poisoning stemmed from eating fungus-infected barley bread and improved by a change in diet — i.e. no more barley bread and an increase in wine consumption — and physical activity — i.e. Camino.) 

although the building is mostly ruins, it does still function as an albergue during milder months when Camino traffic is heavier. the most impressive remnant of the original monastery is the archway spanning the Camino. peregrinos arriving too late to gain access to the hospital shelter under the archway for the night and monks would leave food in the niches that line the walls. while residents no longer leave vittles in the alcoves, peregrinos often leave notes to one another, held down by stones or other weights. we saw notes left for people in quite a few places, but nowhere as many little scraps of paper as here.
my books reference the remarkable artistry of the carvings lining the opposite side of the archway — in archivolts (curved ornamental moldings along the underside of the arch), which must have been truly spectacularconsidering how impressive they remain in spite of centuries of deterioration. at the west end of the ruins plaques featuring the insignia of the Order of San Antón remain, near what remains of the rose window and coats of arms from French and German families.

Glastonbury Tor

in addition to London Olympics-induced nostalgia, I just started a Bernard Cornwall book about the Arthurian legend, The Winter King, which immediately took me back to visiting Glastonbury and the tor, as well as all of southwest England. the tor was even featured in the Opening Ceremony, as the 204 participating nations placed their flags on the side of a miniature tor. coupled with the Olympics highlighting all sorts of places in England, like the Newcastle United stadium hosting the USA v. NZL women’s soccer match, makes me very much want to re-visit England (*coughbeccacoughtaracough*).

I’ve been to Glastonbury Tor twice and, frankly, would go again if someone handed me a ticket to the UK. the first time I was sixteen and had just spent three weeks in France with some high school peers. whatever thoughts I have on the France experience (perhaps something on that one day; perhaps not), getting to see England and playing passenger to my mother as first-time-UK-driver were no inconsequential element of that trip. (“left!left!left!left!left!” “HEDGE!” and, really, do British hedgerows really need to be that close on all rural roadways? yeah, probably.) while I’m sure I have some images of Glastonbury Abbey somewhere (another future blog post?) I’ll focus on the tor here.

“Tor” is a local Celtic word signifying rock outcropping or hill, as exceptionally illustrated by the one in Glastonbury. archaeological excavations unearthed evidence of inhabitants dating from prehistory; there is evidence of a 5th century fort on the site and the current ruins of St Michael’s Church (the tower) date from the 13th century, which was restored in modern times. an earthquake felt as far away as London and Wales destroyed most of the church in 1275 and a replacement church (from the 1360s) survived until the Dissolution of the Monasteries (in 1539). the last abbot of the church (along with two of his monks) were hanged, drawn, and quartered on the Tor because he refused to swear allegiance to Henry VIII.

some speculate the Glastonbury Tor is part of a zodiac calendar with formations dug around ancient hedgerows and tracks (though much of the area proposed as said calendar was under water at the time of said calendar’s design). the tor straddles one of the most important ley lines in Britain, the St. Michael line that runs from St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall up to Avebury; the St. Mary’s line also runs through the Tor, creating a “vortex of energy” where they cross. 

others believe it provides access to the Underworld or realm of the faeiries; some that represents the final location of the Holy Grail. allegedly, Joseph of Aramathia brought it here and buried it in a cave beneath the Tor, from which two springs formed (presumably including the Chalice Well that you can still visit at the foot of the Tor.) job done, he planted his staff and a thorn grew up (Bernard Cornwall took a rather speculative eye to this myth in Winter King). 

one of the more perplexing mysteries of the tor are it’s seven, roughly symmetrical, terraces. several theories seek to explain their utility — farming, grazing, defensive ramparts, or (my favorite) a labyrinth. labyrinths were around during the Neolithic period while the tor was occupied and one can transpose the design of one such labyrinth onto the remaining ramparts but, even if that theory proves true, it seems likely its been used in other ways (e.g. farming, cattle grazing, defense) in the intervening centuries.

as Bernard Cornwall’s story reinforced for me, Glastonbury is closely linked with the Arthurian legend. the Tor was alternately known as Ynys Wydryn (Isle of Glass because at the time the plain surrounding the tor flooded and made it an island) and also Ynys yr Afalon (Isle of Avalon). in 1184 a fire destroyed much of a nearby church and during the rebuilding of the church, a “double oak” coffin with an inscription identifying Arthur was found and preserved. under the supervision of Edward I the remains were re-interred and preserved (at least until the Dissolution of the Monasteries).

whatever it was in past, it remains a truly remarkable awe-inspiring site to rival Stonehenge — and without the restrictions on access you’ll find at the site 45 miles to the east. the views (on a clear day) from the top are incredible — if your eyes are particularly good, I think yo we didn’t go to the Abbey on my second visit, but if my next trip to England involves any sort of Arthurian myth-type exploring, I wager both the tor and the Abbey will go on the list.

Navarrete

our first break of the day found us in Navarrete, just a handful of kilometers outside Logroño. just outside the town stand ruins of a hospice — Hospital de San Juan de Acre — founded in 1185 by the mother of a bishop. it flourished through the Middle Ages and well into the 16th century, but, as with the walled fortifications of nearby Navarrete, it was destroyed in the 16th century in battles to incorporate the region into the rest of Spain.


in modern times, the town became known for its wine and mushroom industries. most prominently, the hulking Bodega Don Jacobo loomed over the ruins of the Hospital de San Juan, advertising to passing cars on the autopista. elsewhere scattered across the hillside, however, are several other bodegas, which take advantage of the caves carved under and behind the town to store and age wine (or cultivate mushrooms).

while the church of the Ascencion is reputedly spectacular, neither the allure of retablos nor wine tasting caught our interest. after a pair of bocadillos (one with cheese, the other with a Spanish omelet) we continued on our way. 

Christ Church Greyfriar’s Cemetery

when I started looking for more information on this photo (which I’d labeled Greyfriar’s Cemetery), all I came up with were sites on Greyfriars Bobby in Edinburgh — decidedly not the information for which I was searching. enter Google Maps … it’s amazing how much detail the site has developed over the last couple of years. search for St. Paul’s in London and ta-da! only a few hundred yards away stand the remains of Christ Church Greyfriars (also known as Christ Church Newgate, as it stands on the Newgate road).

the original, Gothic church was part of a Franciscan monastery and was built between 1307 and 1327. the monks of the monastery wore grey habits and became known as “greyfriars” for their appearance. this church contained remains from Marguerite of France (second wife to Edward I), Isabella (widow of Edward II), and the heart of Eleanor of Provence (wife of Henry III). after the Dissolution of Monasteries by Henry VIII, the church was granted to the City and suffered extensive damage, vandalism, and theft of objects. surrounding buildings, which previously belonged the monastery, were later used by students of the nearby Christ’s Hospital, and eventually the church returned to its original uses. it was the second largest church in medieval London but the structure was destroyed, along with much of the area, by the Great Fire of 1666.

the second church was designed by Sir Christopher Wren (who designed a total of 51 churches after the Great Fire, including St. Paul’s across Newgate St from this church) and completed in 1687 (though it took another 30-odd years before a steeple was placed atop the church tower). for many years, the church served as an important center for society and music in London, but the size of the parish declined significantly around the turn of the twentieth century, as the area gave way to more and more businesses and the employees of the businesses moved farther out to suburbs and the Home Counties. by 1937, there were only 77 parishioners and, following a post-war reorganization of the Church of England, the parish was merged with another.

while the parish staggered on until 1954, Wren’s church suffered devastating damage during the Blitz. on December 29, 1940, one of the worst bombing raids during the war, the Christ Church Greyfriar’s was hit, along with much of the surrounding neighborhoods. a total of 8 of Wren’s churches were damaged or destroyed that same night. the church spire, however, did emerge relatively unscathed and was disassembled in 1960 and reconstructed using modern reinforcement techniques. the spire now houses residences on  twelve levels, and the grounds that were once the nave are now a public garden and memorial.

more info here: http://christchurchtower.com/ and at wikipedia

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.