Santillana del Mar (Saint Juliana of the Sea) is a medieval village of cobbled streets and a UNESCO World Heritage Site that sits close to the sea in the northern Spanish province of Cantabria. Its Romanesque church, a former Benedictine monastery which contains the remains of Saint Juliana transported from Turkey in the twelfth century, attracts flocks of tourists and pilgrims but I was not there to pay my respects to the saint. Instead, I took a leisurely stroll in the Constable-like landscape a mile out of town and found, on a hillside, the Caves of Altamira, ‘the Sistine Chapel of Prehistoric Art’.

Their fascinating story dates back to 1875 when amateur archaeologist Don Marcelino Sanz de Sautuola decided to investigate a series of local caves that had been accidentally blasted open. A pencil-thin aperture allowed him access into what proved to be a labyrinthine series of dark passages and chambers. Over many visits, digging close by the original entrance, he uncovered tools, spears, shells, bones; exciting material, but nothing compared to what lay ahead. On one excursion he was accompanied by his eight-year-old daughter when, the story goes, Maria looked at the ceiling, oil lamp in hand, spotted the artwork and exclaimed, ‘look, Daddy, at the oxen.’

Her father was obliged to crouch because the paintings were in one of the caves’ shallowest chambers. The figures the girl was pointing to represented not oxen but a fabulous herd of prehistoric bison. The upshot of this remarkable discovery was that the following year Don Marcelino published a booklet recounting his findings, in which he claimed these drawings were from the Upper Paleolithic period (in other words 14,000 years old,) and therefore the earliest human artwork unearthed anywhere. The international scientific community ridiculed him, stating that prehistoric man was not capable of such skills, or on such a scale. Sadly, Don Marcelino died before his brilliant investigations were recognised and before his ‘forgeries’ had been authenticated.

Once the rupestral drawings had been acknowledged, the traffic of visitors grew so dense that it became essential to seal off the caves to the public because the carbon dioxide exhalation was causing irreparable damage. A replica was constructed. This, if you visit, is what you will see, escorted by a guide. I was disappointed. I had booked my ticket months in advance, and had such a journey for a copy! There is no need for disappointment though – it is masterful. The drawings, polychromes of red, charcoal and ochre, reduced me to tears. I was not alone. We, a party of ten stood or crouched in awe. Others were also silently weeping.

Pregnant bison, herds running freely, horses painted over horses; the artists used the textures, surfaces, indentations of the caves to bring their remarkably flowing figures to life. There is much speculation about the meaning of these images. Religious ritual? Whatever, the exquisite artistry reveals the world anew, as seen and depicted by the eyes and skills of those who inhabited a world before our Bibles, our parables of Creation, who knew a purity of vision that left me quite undone. Picasso’s conclusion: Beyond Altamira, all is decadence.
Book well in advance as places on the cave tours are extremely limited.

Carol Drinkwater’s latest book, The Olive Tree, is released in paperback tomorrow. More information can be found on her website.

Leave a Comment