A cold day (and night) out
Trip Start
Oct 21, 2008
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3
12
Trip End
Ongoing
Slunfeh, Latakia, Syria
Friday, November 14, 2008
Nestled in the wintry slopes of Slunfeh in the Jabal an Nusayriyah hill range looming over the West coast of Syria, Qalaat Saladin and the surrounding villages were cold places. The climate on the thin strip of coast enclosed by the hills is a Mediterranean one and being November I was expecting a bit of a bite but far from expecting snow! The lush green of the plains enveloping Lattakia had been replaced by an almost Alpine landscape, with snow capped mountains casting icy shadows along the frozen, concrete like ground.
Our fist stop was to a man in a small village on the way to the castle to conclude some business he had with his Taim's father. Disembarking the tiny mini-van we entered a quite village, very much unlike the noisy, fumigated atmosphere of Lattakia with children wheeling their undersized bicycles carefree across the narrow roads and alleys. It was well past midday by this time and the shadows we were waiting in while Taim went to coax the man out of hibernation were pushing the cold into our bones, finding sun light became a must. Fortunately, we were invited into his home with open arms, sat down and given tea and coffee to warm us. The house was Sunni, I could tell because all of the women were hidden behind a sliding door in the other room only included in the meeting when our host opened the slide by an inch to order more biscuits or drinks. A minute later there would be a knock signifying the arrival of the order and the man would retrieve it from the hidden harem. Other than this curious observation, there was nothing of note so while Taim and his acquaintance talked business Iyad and I tried to stifle giggles over a joke we shared earlier.
On to Qalaat Saladin. We took a taxi this time to the entrance of the castle, because it was said that the mini-vans could not make it up the winding road to the top of the rocky outcrop the castle was perched upon. Qalaat Saladin is situated in the middle of a huge man-made gorge much like an antennae in the centre of a satellite dish, a rocky and stony protrusion amidst a sea of pine trees. On to Qalaat Saladin. We took a taxi this time to the entrance of the castle, because it was said that the mini-vans could not make it up the winding road to the top of the rocky outcrop the castle was perched upon. Qalaat Saladin is situated in the middle of a huge man-made gorge much like an antennae in the centre of a satellite dish, a rocky and stony protrusion amidst a sea of pine trees.
Entering the grounds of the castle you pass a huge stone obelisk previously used as a support for the two halved draw bridge at the top of the chasm separating the walls from the surrounding terrain. Once inside the walls itself you are met with the typical ruined monument scence. It's only when you walk around the inside of the castle that you realize that there is more to it than first meets the eye. Losing ourselves in passageways, tunnels, underground chambers and towers we suddenly turned into children jumping around chasing each other, screeching and squawking. Apart from the childish fun, however, the sun was setting drenching the castle in evening sunlight; warm with and orange glow to it. Coats, hats and scarves had come off and we basked in the sunlight overlooking the western edge of the castle and the gorge. Spectacular view.
Time to go back and we were stranded. After all our fun and frolicking we, certainly I, had not thought about the logistics of getting back through the gorge. There were no mini-vans and a taxi would definitely not be persuaded to come out and get us. So we began to walk the long, winding walk to the bottom. Having reached it we rested on the bridge spanning the river trickling down the valleys crease. We needed some sort of transport. The idea of hiking back up to the top to reach civilisation did not sit well with any of us so it was with relief that passing tractor and trailer came our way. With the customary hello and welcome the driver, an old farmer, was more than happy to give us a lift. We scrambled into the trailer and with a lurch we were off. After being knocked about trying to take some photos of the whole experience I decided to sit down an enjoy for fear of falling out the back. It was beautiful. Qalaat Saladin was framed perfectly by the surrounding forest and rays of sunlight were bombarding the walls and turrets giving it a surreal glow.
It's only when you walk around the inside of the castle that you realize that there is more to it than first meets the eye. Losing ourselves in passageways, tunnels, underground chambers and towers we suddenly turned into children jumping around chasing each other, screeching and squawking. Apart from the childish fun, however, the sun was setting drenching the castle in evening sunlight; warm with and orange glow to it. Coats, hats and scarves had come off and we basked in the sunlight overlooking the western edge of the castle and the gorge. Spectacular view.
Time to go back and we were stranded. After all our fun and frolicking we, certainly I, had not thought about the logistics of getting back through the gorge. There were no mini-vans and a taxi would definitely not be persuaded to come out and get us. So we began to walk the long, winding walk to the bottom. Having reached it we rested on the bridge spanning the river trickling down the valleys crease. We needed some sort of transport. The idea of hiking back up to the top to reach civilisation did not sit well with any of us so it was with relief that passing tractor and trailer came our way. With the customary hello and welcome the driver, an old farmer, was more than happy to give us a lift. We scrambled into the trailer and with a lurch we were off. After being knocked about trying to take some photos of the whole experience I decided to sit down an enjoy for fear of falling out the back. It was beautiful. Qalaat Saladin was framed perfectly by the surrounding forest and rays of sunlight were bombarding the walls and turrets giving it a surreal glow.
The light was fading fast but our adventure was far from over. Another taxi and we were on our way to Slunfeh, the top of the mountain range. Donning our winter gear once more we stepped out under the canopy of a road side stall to collect some Syrian-made wine. It always surprised me how easy it was to get some sort of alcohol in Syria and not only in far flung, largely uninhabited places.
Armed with wine, cups and warm clothes we left the taxi at the top of the mountain just below the famous telecommunications tower which marked Slumfie. It was now dark. We made a fire in an abandoned roadside stall and sat talking and drinking, gazing out over the flickering town of Slumfie nestled in the valley below. Slunfeh looked cozy, alive, like some huge animal sprawled over the valley bottom setting down for the night aglow with inner warmth. It was a good view, one with which the wine and the company were made more memorable.
Hunger strikes! The wine had done its job and warmed us sufficiently so that we could move out. Walking along the deserted ridge road we stumbled on a small café with a traditional bakery opposite, billowing out smoke from the ovens. We sat down to eat and had our fill on bread, lebneh and hummus. A simple meal for a simple day out.
