Permanence
I met a man in England’s Lake District named Martyn Leaver who rebuilds ancient stone walls. He told me he’s called a Waller, a title given to craftsmen like him who have helped divide land and livestock between neighbors and farmers for centuries and, more recently, UK hikers.
Repairs to a stone wall section like the one pictured above take Martyn about a week to complete. Fallen stones are cleaned out and arranged in piles according to shape and size; then he digs a support trench, arranges a web of plumb lines, and begins to arrange stones just so. Each step of the process is bouyed by a steaming beverage from a thermos that I think is mostly coffee.
It was surprising — astonishing — to learn from Martyn that Wallers don’t use anything like cement to bond the stones they lay. It’s the CRAFT, really, that holds it together … for hundreds of years … until a tree limb falls or a cow gets frisky.
I was thinking about Martyn this week. S and I and the boys have spent the last two days climbing around inside homes and meeting places and churches … built entirely INSIDE mountains of rock.
These are the brilliant caves dwellings in Turkey’s Cappadocia, in the Red, Rose, and Ilhara Valleys.
It has been yet another profound experience of walking in the steps of the ancients — placing my hand in their hand-hold to climb a wall, gaping at rose colored sunsets through their carefully carved windows, offering up my prayers where they built an altar, setting my fingers in their infinite-seeming chisel marks that were chipped out as long as two thousand years ago.
Most of these glories are unmarked and unheralded. We stumbled upon then explored a FIVE FLOOR HOME carved into a stone wall off our hiking path, and ate lunch inside another dwelling … as a hot air balloon drifted past our window.
Vandals and zealots have unfortunately damaged portions of church frescoes. Silt and sediment fill most every dwelling’s floorworks. Valley walls — foundational support for floor, wall, AND ceiling — are crumbling year after year. Still, these structures were built something like two thousand years ago and they are largely intact!
So I can’t decide whether the state of these once-strong stone dwellings is a picture of ultimate fragility — or permanence. The same goes for the stone walls of Martyn Leaver’s Lake District. Either those walls are immovable sentinels overcoming seasons, or they are futile attempts to build something that lasts.
I think part of the answer lies in what a friend posted recently on Facebook:
Contentment is E on my right, D on my left, and 3,000 vertical feet between us and the valley below. Ski on – father and sons!
These stone structures — however ancient, however timeless, however stunning, however permanent, however impermanent — (providentially) provided the setting for me to hear “Come on, Dad!” as a son rambled up a hillside. These structures were the mystery to discover while crawling behind another son through a tight passageway. These structures were the challenge of a wall to climb, as I supported another son’s gritty reach to an overhang.
It was an adventure … to share … permanently.
(Click on any image to launch a larger gallery.)
Wow. Absolutely breathtaking. Haunting. So excited for you guys!
Great post! With your descriptions and the photos, I can almost feel the sensation of exploring these ancient structures. Thank you for sharing.
3,000 feet of vertical…in a very different place! Thanks for the meditation, and the inspiring photos. We look forward to exploring those ruins someday…traveling blessings on your family!