Once upon a castle...in Syria!
The first castle we wanted to visit on our trip to Syria was Bourzey Castle. We left our hotel on Monday morning around eight o’clock. The driver and the staff of the hotel had already tied our luggage onto the roof of the van, and we went on our way.
After three hours driving we still hadn’t see one ancient stone. Problem: we couldn’t find it. The driver asked several people, but nobody seemed to know where it was. We agreed to leave it and drive on to our next goal, Saladinsburgh.
Visiting this enormous site was a very exhausting thing to do; specially the outer buildings, which were situated much lower than the castle itself, and could be reached by a small path down. The return to the main building made me feel that my last hour had struck. I felt near to a heart attack, and I feared that I could drop dead at any moment. But, I reached safe and sound the main site, although it took me half an hour to become my old self again. “Never again,” I told myself, “will I do such a thing again.”, not knowing that the worst still had to come.
About the same thing happened when we wanted to visit Al Marqab Castle, when the driver kicked us out of the car, because it couldn’t climb to road to the castle, heavy loaded as it was with thirteen people and their luggage. Fortunately the owner of a restaurant at the foot of the castle saw us struggle, and sent boys on mopeds down to pick us up.
The rest of the week was exhausting, but satisfying. Some climbs, but none of them life threatening.
But then we reached Friday.
We didn’t have an exact plan for Friday, so we decided to search again for Bourzey. The driver had done some inquiries, and now he had an idea where we had to find it. Driving in the neighbourhood of Latakia, thirteen pair of eyes spied out of the windows searching for the now familiar ruined walls on the mountain peaks.
At last, in the far distance, high on a mountaintop, we spotted the ruins of a watchtower, staring over the plains.
The ruins of Bourzey Castle lie on the top of an out leap of a chain of mountains, about 480 metres above sea level, and there is no road leading to them!
At that moment we stood for a dilemma; what to do? We had the choice from to bad things. We could wave a few times to the ruins in the distance and drive on, or…climb!
We decided to do the last thing. We drove our car to the foot of the mountain, at the end of a small village. A boy from the village was willing to show us the way to the castle. He led us over big rocks, along tough, thorny weeds and bushes to a very small path, probably only used by wildlife. Very slowly we struggled higher and higher. The young ones of our group ran like chamois and soon disappeared out of sight, leaving us, the older ones, behind. Eventually my friend Rolf and I were left alone. We were exhausted, the sun was burning on our heads, the path was rocky, and we couldn’t set one foot for the other anymore. Rolf wanted to give up, and I have to admit that that went through my head several times. But then I looked down, and seeing how far we were, I refused to give up so easily. Rolf agreed with this and we went on. Then we made a curve around the mountain and we came into the shade of the rocky walls, at last: heaven after hell. This made our road much easier, and after crossing a dry river, we soon came upon a plain, shaded by big stone oaks, where our friends were waiting for us.
Then we had to do the last part, the mountaintop where the castle stood. We had to search our way on the steep hill through the rocks, the stones and the thorny weeds to reach the castle walls. Then we had to find an entrance. We found it at the back of the entrance tower, where the wall had collapsed. We had to climb over these stones, and finally we stood within the castle walls.
The first part of the castle was the entrance tower, which was very smart built. Normally the entrance of that kind of tower is at the front, but in this tower it was at the back. Very clever, a storm ram can’t be used this way. This must have been a fortress that was very difficult to conquer.
Another splendid thing was the extraordinary acoustics. That was phenomenal! Three of us stood at least one hundred metres from each other, and we could talk to each other without raising our voices. We could understand each other perfectly well.
The view over the plains and the mountains was magnificent, and another positive thing was, that there was no rubbish. The castle is so isolated and unreachable that there never come any people; it has the best protection there is.
After everybody had explored the ruins and had taken lots of pictures, we went back the same way we came. Down is always a bit easier.
The way to the castle was difficult, but it was worthwhile, and because it was so difficult reaching it, I bare the dearest memories to this house. I love the Crac des Chevaliers, one of the castles I will definitely visit again when I go back, and I would like to see Al Marqab again, but my thoughts still go back to Bourzey.
Bourzey, you were hard to conquer, but I will always remember you with love.
Last edited by Denis; December 12th, 2004 at 04:39 PM.
Reason: Submission officially approved for the contest!
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