Moorish Marvel: the Ruins of Bobastro by Ben Cooper
Featured Hotel in Malaga
Vincci Malaga
See all hotels in Malaga >
The road winds, first one way, then the other, though a landscape dominated by massive rock formations; huge monolithic boulders jut out like the tips of icebergs from the dusty earth or sit squat atop massive, bulbous protrusions of smooth ochre. High above, against the brilliant blue of the sky, the odd bird of prey can be spotted lazily surveying the scene as it rides the currents of warm air.
Influence of time
Las Mesas de Villaverde nestles amongst the misshapen hills and valleys of whispering pine trees, wild olives and stunted holm oaks of the Sierra de Pizarra. After countless twists and turns, a slight indent of a parking place signals that it's time to pull in. A small sign is the only indication of one of the less well-known – and yet oddly atmospheric – Moorish monuments of Andalucia: the complex of Bobastro.
A flight of rough stone steps worn smooth by weather and footfall runs away from the parking space. Like so much of the surrounding landscape, the sense of the wearing influence of time hangs heavily over the place. Advancing towards the centre of the complex, the squat foundations of the outer ring of what were once great walls can still be seen. Large chunks of masonry lie everywhere on the ground, swallowed up by the slow advance of the undergrowth. Other vague evidence of construction (guard towers, possibly?) are also visible, in spite of the thick covering of vegetation.
At times it’s hard to distinguish between them and the outlandish rock formations; shaped over the ages by the elements, they make the imagination race. Either way, what strikes you immediately as you clamber over the outer walls is that Bobastro was no small affair - and it’s clear that there's much more still to be uncovered. (Out here in the middle of nowhere, whether or not it will ever be excavated is another matter…)
Forgotten about feel
A dusty path clings to the contours of the hill, following it around the brow. Eventually a clearing of sorts opens up, marked by a weather-beaten, rusting sign which rather sums up the forgotten about, even neglected, feel of the place. In the centre of the clearing stands a well-worn structure. Remarkably, considering that they have stood in the baking sunshine of summer and the whistling winds of winter for over 1000 years, a series of exotic-looking horseshoe arches can still be clearly made out.
Carved out of the sandstone, they make for an impressive spectacle. Despite its scale (little more than 16m by 10m) the rock church of Bobastro is a unique archaeological site. Along with (arguably) the Church of Santa de Melque in Toledo, it's one of the only churches in Spain that can truly be considered an entirely 'Mozarab' structure. Alongside the remains of the walls of the church, there’s a crypt, and, elsewhere around the site, a cemetery and then… only scattered pieces of an intriguing jigsaw puzzle - tantalizing hints of what once stood there - remain of the rest of Bobastro.
Bobastro's rise - and fall
Hardly any easier to decipher is the story of its master, Ibn Hafsun. Umar Ibn Hafsun (or Omar Ben Hafsun) was the leader of a dissident movement that tried to wrest control of the region from the Umayyad Emir of Cordoba, Abdullah Ibn Muhammad, in the 9th and early 10th century. Having managed to mobilize various dissatisfied parties from across the Emirate, in 891 - after years of disruption - he suffered a heavy defeat, at the Battle of Poley (modern-day Aguilar de la Frontera), and retreated to Bobastro in the desolate hinterlands of the Sierra.
After the death of Ibn Muhammad, it fell to his grandson, the great Abd el Rahman III (who was responsible for the glories of Medina Azahara), to crush the resistance. First, he defeated Ibn Hafsun's allies in Seville in 913 before turning his attention to Bobastro. Meanwhile, Ibn Hafsun made the grave strategic error of converting to Christianity, a move that alienated many of his Muslim allies. He died in 917, leaving it to his son to continue the faltering resistance.
Bobastro fell in 928, and with it the Mozarab Rebellion finally came to an end. Ibn Hafsun's body was dug up, and as a sign to other would-be rebels not to resist the might of the Umayyads, it was crucified next to the Mezquita in Cordoba. It's hard to tell precisely what sort of a figure Ibn Hafsun really was, as resistance to any central power inevitably becomes heavily mythologised; now, though, he stands as one of the many highwaymen, robber barons and assorted Robin Hood characters who dot the region's history.
In some ways Bobastro is just another of the many crumbling piles of stones that litter the Andalucian countryside. Undoubtedly, other than the striking arches, there's precious little to actually see. But at least some of the spirit of futile resistance can be felt here, out in the wilderness. As is the case in so many parts of the region, the whole site has just a whiff of Shelley's Ozymandias about it: timelessness mixed with transience and (particularly given Ibn Hafsun's story) hubris… And it's this heady, evocative atmosphere that clings to Bobastro, rather than anything tangible, that makes it so special.
Looking for an atmospheric place to stay in Southern Spain? See all our luxury hotels in Andalucia.
(This article originally appeared on Andalucian travel and culture website Tertuliaandaluza.com. For more information on what's on when in Andalucia, check out their events guide.)