The tree drinks the water that flows down the stone gradient and gains vigor. Despite this life force, just such an archaeological site deserves to be kept free from the power of searching roots. The greater area of mine shafts has dangerous perfectly hidden edges between scrub and path and asks to be managed with measure and respect. The tree has planted into a man-made monolithic arch or alcove. My reading of the site is as follows : we are looking at the back of the original alcove which appears to have been brutally undermined so that the polished interior circumference turns from an amplification for voice (in a shade space away from the sun), into a rough arch – intriguing, even vivid, but far from original intention. The loss of original volume may well have worked for both senses of the word. This ancient vandalism certainly removed the power and function of this highest point to an important ancient quarry of eight shafts, three of which now merge and one of which lacks finished depth.
On the top of today’s arch, the back of a monolithic chair or ‘thrown’ extends above the original alcove (here visible to the left of the tree). The site is sometimes referred to as ‘Tron de la Reina’ or ‘The Queen’s thrown’.
Evidence of a past degradation can be seen by looking at the rock surface behind the tree which is raw and lacks the rounded definition and detail visible elsewhere.
A wooden platform may have extended on the other side so that urns might spill samples of water into the trough – water playing an important role in ‘Celtic’ rites. The ritual route to the ‘thrown’ would walk over the line of ‘sacred’ water and up the monolithic ramp that can be seen rising from left to right (here, the central portion of the original ramp is now missing after past iconoclastic decisions). Once at the right-hand side of the monolith, the individual would turn and climb the short ramp to the wide chair directly above the polished alcove. A spiritual leader for the site may have first authority over a chair that may assign different meanings for different people and dates. Three or four ‘Gladiators’ (‘martial’, military police from the days before they were forced into auto destructive theater by the Romans) may have occupied the space of the polished alcove. The alcove may then be handed over as a space for deals with passing towns-people in need of measures of stone for construction. The miners might get ‘pay’, spiritual enlightenment, the entertainment of song and storytelling, and finally security from one centralized modified high point. An idiosyncratic solution for a specific site.
Other explanations for the site branch around ideas of sepulture or hermitage. The abrasion to the rock edges suggests a long period of use with much movement over the outside surface, and whilst people may choose to be buried at the end of a site with a deep history, too many of the details to the structure do not align with burial, and ‘ideas’ of evidence for a holding system for a past lower door have yet to convince me. Regarding a past function as a ‘troglodytic church’ : the name Sant Julià is reported to have been associated with very early Christian worship. On the inner wall of the alcove is a stylish and simple cross. Many of these early Christians were martyred during the Roman occupation, with a text relating to the site reporting a local legend that the very first martyred Spanish Christians were killed on the site of this very mine. Despite fast recent changes and upheavals in the ways of being in the local region, the local area had changed very little over the centuries, with old folk legends passed on as heritage, and even as a ‘legend’, we should at least take note. Understanding a certain empathy between late Celtic religions and the ‘anti Roman’ Christian religion, it is possible to imaging a Christianisation of a focal site that had spiritual rites within its rhythm of function. Becoming a troglodyte place of Christian worship may have been a late chapter in the story of this monolith, with the unusual form of the rock being due to a deeper Iberian past from a time when larger towns were still a youthfull new idea. For those who are used to seeing late prehistoric monoliths, I think few would be surprised were this to have late neolithic or Bronze age roots.
The energy to build a homologous replacement alcove, hidden from first view at the base of a nearby disused mine shaft may also have come from just such political trauma.
Not far away, and visible in adjacent Flickr posts, an alcove has been cut into the bottom of one of the mine shafts of the greater site. This apparent incongruity may have been a short lived stubborn reply to authorities (Roman or later) who had tried to crack down on ancient rites and sources of local power by reacting with a sledgehammer to the elegance of a finely crafted micro auditorium.
AJM 30.04.18
