Tsunami, 42. Thousands of Years in a Walk.

I went walking again this morning, since weather and circumstances allowed. Again, I went into the woods, and along tracks parallel to the highway behind our village. I went in search of the Mámoas do Campiño.

I found them, and it wasn't such a hard hike, at all. There are about six, though I only easily saw four. One looked like a bulldozer had mauled it, another looked like an open pit. Only two still had stones forming the funeral chamber. One of those was missing some stones, the other had most of them, including the small stones forming the entrance, facing east. 

Mámoas, or tumuli, are Neolithic burial mounds. A hole is dug, stones quarried and set in place to create the burial chamber, and the entrance tunnel. Then, a large stone is placed on top, creating a dolmen. At the end, earth and stones are mounded over the dolmen. Archeologists estimate that the tumuli in our township date from between 6000 BC to 2000 BC. 

Along my walk, I found myself with about four

cyclists, one or two trail bikers, and another walker. It was obviously Sunday. It was between cloudy and rainy, with showers earlier in the morning, though they seem to be gone for the rest of the week, even if now the day is cloudy. I walked under a tunnel to cross the highway, and once on the other side, saw other things to investigate. There was a slight path that led down to an oak grove that looked interesting. Another interesting spot was an abandoned house. It seems to have been abandoned for years and years. I could see it from higher up, but I would like to find a path to get to the doorway. Looking at it, and shutting out sounds, one could be fooled that the highway was nowhere nearby, instead of just a few meters behind it. A sylvan glade, with a running brook next to it, makes believe it's lost in the middle of the woods.

The mámoas are in sight of the highway. As I looked down on the burial chamber of the best preserved one, there was no way to conjure the silence that must have reigned there when it was created. The highway's side barriers were a thing line of grey in the near distance, and the roofs of cars could be seen going by. The entrances of the tumuli face east. No one is sure of any rituals of men of the era, but it's interesting to think that they were created that way to face the rising sun. Perhaps, after the burial, there were certain rites performed, so the spirit could leave the chamber through the tunnel entrance, and join the goddess of the sunrise. Afterward, the dolmen would be covered. Who knows?

It has always surprised me to think that where I step now, people have stepped throughout the ages, since thousands of years ago. I remember when we went to Cantabria in September of 2019, and visited the Cueva del Castillo in Puente Viesgo. The first sight of the antlered deer in deep black charcoal took my breath away. Where we were standing, over ten thousand years ago someone had drawn that, and it looked like it had been done just before we stepped into the area. The hands outlined in red, close to 60,000 years old, were no bigger than my small ones, yet they were the hands of grown men. We are connected to those that have gone before us, when we visit these ancient sites.

After inspecting some of the tumuli, I returned home. The entire trip took me about two hours. I will return, maybe on some weekend afternoon before the heat comes, since most of the way is without shade. I might even go during Holy Week. In fact, it might be my only outing during that vacation week. At the moment, the restrictions will be the ones we have now, with no one entering or leaving the region. But, contagion is creeping up, already. The end of the third wave seems to be giving us a very small respite, and the fourth might be about to crash on our doors. I wouldn't be surprised if we are confined to our townships for Holy Week. Italy is confining everyone to their homes on the most important days of that week, so I wouldn't be surprised if we followed suit in some fashion. 

Life continues.