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Waters ships of three bridges - A trip to Lake San Martín de Castañeda in 1847

Chronica Minora

In the magazine "Semanario Picturesque" was published in 1852, specifically in number 48, 22 November, a long article on the Lake de Sanabria (Zamora). The story, half way between the picture of manners and poetic evocation, is the chronicle of a journey in which strongly felt the imprint of nineteenth-century romanticism. Besides its specifically literary interest, the trip provides some relevant news on the situation of the monastery of San Martín de Castañeda in the years after its confiscation, and a brief description of the Moras Island and the ruins the palace, the Count of Benavente fishmonger. Accompanies the article a magnificent engraving of Lake Sanabria, made Drawing from an ancient Cistercian monks themselves.
The text is signed by "El hidalgo" who claims to be original Cantabrian land and have made their journey by Sanabria in 1847. The following is an excerpted version of its content:

"I've traveled so unknown lands cone Pacific Ocean islands, and most worthy of curiosity, all without leaving Spain. Slave to my conscience, I would have believed missing homework took me there, if I had stopped to take a note or sketch a monument hurt me today, and although I have no regrets, I know there was also to serve my country. The one that lost me, and that comforts me. Only I still have memories, and before a hectic life just deleted, I want to say something about the lake of San Martín de Castañeda.

The day I left San Juan, 1847 Donate, a village at the foot of the mountain division of the ancient kingdoms of Leon and Galicia, took leave of his hospitable parish priest, who is also the best hunter Sanabria, and still do all the province of Zamora. My traveling companions were an old cavalry officer who had made war against Cabrera, and a graduate of army from the same source, as brave as rascal, as I met later. Serviam it spearhead, cook and valet, driving in a heterogeneous array hack needed in a region where there are less food and comfort in Sandwict or Tahiti. After crossing a barren mountain, we descended into a deep valley where the village boasts a beautiful church Trefacio amid woodlands. It looks like a canyon of Asia Minor, thrown in the midst of wilderness. We continue to have some time up and down hills, paths that could be called dry channels. In vain, leaning on his stirrups, stretched my already long person, he saw nothing but the brambles and thorns on both sides of the road. Its width corresponding to the other qualities, and a car in the country, which came in the opposite direction, we were forced to retreat nearly a quarter of a league, to find a place, like assaulting a barricade, go through between the car and the bushes, leaving this part of the clothing for mature trophy.

it all up well spent, because turning the last hill was offered to my eyes, suddenly, a magnificent spectacle, and is best suited to my tastes. Still on my horse at the top of the hill, looked to my right the convent and village of San Martín de Castañeda, a magnificent building in the middle of the meanest cottage; a forest left untouched since the flood was headed by a saw a rock, rather huge, without a tree, a bush, at my feet the lake, so clear and smooth that reason alone could see that this mass of purest blue, was fluid and not glass. Although the morning was late, the sun, looming behind the mountain, whose slope is the convent, did not reach it with his rays, and plunged into relative obscurity, he seemed even more mysterious and poetic, whereas the green the forest, the blue lake and the whitish cliffs of the mountains, shining in all its simple splendor to pair great [...]

tightening spurs

And we got to the convent at the time that came out his former prior, priest of the town today. Do not know what kind of freemasonry exists for those born between mountains, means that at the time if they are found. They are a common kind of mother who knows all his children, and how to enjoy these in your lap is recognized by brothers. A very few words that changed with the prior, we crossed the priory cell and stores a friar Bernardo, enough said in his eulogy. Traveler's hunger satisfied, the mountain turned to his instincts, and as for lunch was talk of a rare source, on the other side of the lake in front of the convent, I decided to see what [...]

kinds of obstacles are there? Tera wade through the channels (they said), which some do, and then follow the shore of the lake to find the source, which no one has done. "Well, should be as easy .- It seems from here, I said prior opening a balcony, from which the entire lake and its margins were visible, but the heaps of rocks that form the edge, it seems to V. easy to climb for them, and neither is possible, even more daring attempt to cross by bushes among them born, and go across the slope to form the impenetrable forest, about wolves and snakes, which are not lacking, is Have you any less .- reason, I said, and were more prudente dormir la siesta en la poltrona prioral; pero he perseguido a las gamuzas en los picos de Sejos, y a los jabalíes en los montes de Palomera, con todos los obstáculos que V. me pinta, y uno además, algo más serio: la nieve. Así que... hasta la vuelta [...]

Nada tenía esta de particular al pronto, pero después... después de gastar dos horas largas en la más fatigosa y arriesgada expedición que jamás emprendí, me volví cuando precisamente llegaba a pocos pasos de la maldita fuente. Tuve el trabajo y no la gloria. Así me sucede en todas mis empresas. Un tomo no bastaría para describir lo que sufrí, y aún hoy se I bristled the hair to remember when leaving a rock slide, believing reach another with their feet, I missed half a yard, when my arms could not hold stiff body weight, or go back. More than twenty feet waiting for me in the fall, not the lake that was at least feared, but a bed of rocks, sharpened in the most whimsical. With a desperate resolution dropped me a lead on the tip of the rock bottom, no wider than the palm, and I could not maintain balance, make new push to launch into a deck on the side, and very slope, which I held as I could, breaking the nail to save the rest. Can not describe such things. I went to the convent

mohino crestfallen and, thanks to the delicious food prepared in my absence, I was in my company but the satisfaction of having tried, y. .. some itching at the injuries shall. He must, however, know the source prior blessed me still occupied, and with that sneer that men experience with enthusiasts spending began to mellow voice say that he "had gone to the source with more comfort than the best spring reel, with a quiet, soft movement, such as ... a boat. " "A boat! Talking, holy man, for tomorrow. A boat? Where? What Who to ask? - Ea, and we go again, rum, rum, and all will be [...]

was no longer a matter of noticing little things, and we jump at Ponto, but just then I started to fear, because if it has always seemed daring to what another man dare, a drunk is not a man. Warned that the rowers head to a small island located at the top of the lake, but many islands, peninsulas, and even new worlds, had in his head, as soon as we were on one side to another. Providence should be the one that led us to the island. This is very small, only a few bushes, and the ruins of a house built by the Counts of Benavente, former owners of the lake. If I were not afraid to dwell too much, tell the story of ruin and abandonment of the house, but a stormy night, a lake whose waters grow and swallow everything under a weak car, and a countess in her negligee, and a little page more or less than in his arms saved or lost on what's views are more interesting things written views.

From the island we went to the source, and when the heads of our rowers, and cooler, my fears were dispelled, a new circumstance reproduced them harder. Me I have for a good swimmer, and looking at things from the last side that always looked on the selfishness, I told myself that a failure could swim to shore. I thought this, when a bark made me turn my head. Numancia had stayed on the island. I back the boat, and when there was little to get the dog jumped into the lake swimming towards us, half a minute take on match with the boat, wished to go and failed, to take her by the neck met the cause, feeling in my hand the coldest water I've ever felt, and that is certainly not a human being suffer [...]

A strong smell of rotten eggs horn, she said before reaching the shore, sought was the source of sulfur. Oh power of imagination Young! I thought I discovered a treasure, and humanity will rise up saw the statues I saw [...] The spring is so scarce, it will not be a cubic inch. On the other hand has a pleasantly warm, as warm water is highly charged and the sulfuric principle. Within two seconds of black stain a silver coin, and rock which flows at the height of two or three yards above the lake, leaving plenty of white sediment, similar to soot. This strong saturation seems to me that announcing a large deposit, which must have more drains to the immediacy, or under the water level of Lake [...]

recrossed the lake for all its breadth and landed at the foot of the convent. Upon seeing the bang that was exoficial soon to jump to the ground, without the balance of the boat, I figured to see Caesar in similar circumstances, saying to the land of Africa: "I will not go, do I have between my arms. " Nor will I again to water, must add my man himself, judging by the significant look back to the lake, the boat, and the sky, at last, in thanksgiving for sure. With what pleasure we enjoyed after dinner, the conversation of good prior and his peaceful sleep! With what feelings we said goodbye the next day!

I've been a faithful narrator of what I saw with my own eyes and touched with my hands. The level of the lake that offer to my readers as strange and ancient object that accurate, it should be prior to the kindness of Mr. FC (let me put your initials in token of appreciation). It must have been designed by some religious of the convent, which had existed since time immemorial. The Flemish school and we are tired of daguerreotype admirable and accurate landscapes; go for one rare. If you named after one of those German writers of the Middle Ages, admire, do not know why it has to be less the work of a English friar played by Mr. N.

In conclusion, and for the sake of men methodical fixing on the positive, I will say that the lake of San Martín de Castañeda is among the mountains that divide the provinces of Orense, Lugo and Zamora in the territory of the latter, and three miles northeast of Puebla de Sanabria. Has a half mile long and a quarter wide, more or less. Admit ships of three bridges to cross on the banks, such is its depth. It was owned by the Counts of Benavente, who moved to the convent by the mountain pastures do immediately. In the era of freedom and happiness is sold for thousand dollars, on paper, of course. The monastery also has sold some more, or perhaps less, than it would cost the iron balconies. No one accused; I only regret. Behold the positive, let me not ideal. "THE hidalgo.
Images: 1. Overview of the Lago de Sanabria, 2. Church of the Monastery of San Martín de Castañeda, 3. Ribadelago Tera River, 4. Lago de Sanabria 5. Plano del Lago de Sanabria recorded as the "Weekly Picturesque" [1847].