Hello and
welcome to the history page. We are again fiesta-less this week, a sad condition
by all counts, but one that allows us to roam freely into yesteryear, exploring
whatever byways take our fancy. This week seems as good a time as any to examine
the nature of island industry prior to tourism.
Ibiza's
primary industry was, of course, the production of salt (see Weekly Editions
018 and 019), but there were also several others that figured prominently. Two
of these industries were timber and pitch tar, both offshoots of the abundant
woodland, and both used predominately in shipbuilding. I might add that these
industries were not confined to any specific period in history, but were practised
down through the ages until the modern day.
Timber
Like many
Mediterranean islands, Ibiza was endowed with an ideal combination of natural
resources to make it a shipyard par excellence: the woodland was dense and the
coastline was dotted with sandy coves where vessels could be beached and repaired,
or built from scratch. Greek seafarers, in particular, were so taken by the
great indigenous wealth of Ibiza and Formentera's woodland that they named the
islands 'the Pitiuses', meaning 'pine-covered isles'. Considering the well-travelled
and expansive worldview of Greek civilization, this appellation was no small
epithet.
En Route Repairs
As practical
as they were intelligent, Hellenic traders singled out the resource they found
most attractive about Ibiza: its cornucopia of shipbuilding materials. The "Ulyssian"
nature of ancient commerce made it imperative to have outposts along the trade
routes where repairs could be made and Ibiza lent itself perfectly to this task.
Not only was there timber for the taking, there was also the possibility of
obtaining pitch, a thick sticky substance made from the resinous sap of pine
trees and used in sealing ships.
The age-old
method of repairing leaky hulls consisted of beaching and careening the vessels,
plugging the cracks with hemp fibres and sealing the wound with pitch. If the
damage was severe, rotten planks would be replaced by new ones and the fresh
joints then sealed with hemp and pitch. An interesting fact is that, not only
was pitch was one of antiquity's only water-proof substances, but it became
even more impermeable upon contact with sea water.
Tar Ovens
It seems
probable that the Greeks introduced a special kind of oven to Ibiza for the
purposes of pitch production. I have made extensive use of Rafael Sainz's interesting
book, The Tales of Mel, for my information. He explains that the Greeks were
the first people to employ ovens in this endeavour. (The alternate method was
to boil down the sap in cauldrons). The Greeks, however, preferred to use ovens
and disseminated this technology among neighbouring lands. Sainz informs us
that, "The remains of some of (these original) tar ovens, similar to those
found in Ibiza . . . can still be seen on various Greek islands and along the
Adriatic coastline in the most wooded areas."
Although
they never set up a permanent colony in Ibiza, it would appear from the foregoing
evidence that Greek seafarers stopped regularly in Ibiza and brought their shipbuilding
craft with them.
Tar, A Sticky Issue
Leaving
the Greek question behind, the production of pitch came to be, in time, one
of Ibiza's most important industries. By the 13th century, the enterprise
was so highly regarded that frequent conflicts arose as to who the rightful
exploiter should be. One dispute involved the age-old feud between Church and
State, in this case the former being personified by the Archbishop of Tarragona,
the island's ecclesiastic authority, and the latter by the King of Majorca,
the island's temporal authority. Both entities asserted rightful ownership of
the Ibicenco forest, with its lucrative timber industry and derivatives, each
party eager to lay claim to the handsome profits these generated.
Actually,
the marketing of pitch was a very delicate issue. As Sainz points out, "
. . . in times when a well-sealed boat was a potential enemy that could attack,
rob and destroy at any moment," the government had to be extremely cautious
to whom they sold this precious stuff. He further informs us that, "According
to documents stored in ancient archives, tar produced in Ibiza was better than
any other found along the coastlines of the Mediterranean. The authorities therefore
supervised its production and commercialization, as it was a rare commodity
which was frequently unavailable."
Another
indication of this industry's importance to Ibiza's pre-tourism economy is the
abundance of tar ovens found on the island. To date, about thirty of them have
been discovered throughout the woodland and catalogued by local historians.
Also revealing is the frequency of place names that make reference to this activity.
Sainz points out several: "Near the village of San José there is a puig
de sa Pega (Sticky Peak) and near the village of San Antonio there is a
puig de sa Tea (Pitch Peak). On the
island of Formentera can be found a torrent
de sa Tea (Pitch Gully), out on the Barbary Cape."
Considerations of a Higher
Order
Also included
in The Tales of Mel is a wonderful account of the veneration that the Ibicenco
woodland evoked in the generations of yore. In chapter 20, Sainz paints a colourful
pen-portrait of a shipbuilder from Valencia who, during the 1940s, came to Ibiza
for a visit. This master woodworker amazed the author and his brother, still
small lads at the time, with "the secrets of trees in Ibiza", an arboreal
ensemble which the naval craftsman zealously raised to the status of "enchanted
forest."
"Because
of these trees," he told the boys, "the Greeks baptized these idyllic
islands with the magical name of the Pitiuses: by this name they were known
along the shipping routes that run from the Orient to the Occident. And they
were also known as such in the travellers' tales of classical historians. They
were singled out, above all other known shores and islands as an extraordinary
site, and well worth seeing: not only because they are beautiful and possess
all the qualities and more to be regarded as a sacred place . . . (but) because
of the shape and quality of their trees, and because of the rapid and spontaneous
re-growth which made them an inexhaustible source of wood, so rich and cheap."
Salt Curing
Traditionally
in Ibiza trees were felled during the winter months when their sap was at its
lowest ebb. The dressed trunks were then hauled to the sea and submerged for
several weeks in the salt water. This process partially petrified the wood,
making it both more resilient and more durable for naval construction. (As an
interesting note, trunks thus fortified were also used as roof beams in domestic
construction).
The saltiest
water on the island, and therefore the best for treating wood, was at ses Salines
salt-works. Therefore, whenever possible, the freshly cut timber would be brought
to this site and cured in the salt pans. Conveniently, at this time of year
salt production was in a dormant stage, eliminating any conflict of interest
between the two industries. Another plus is that coverage of the trunks was
at a maximum because the pans were still quite full before the rapid evaporation
that would occur as the weather became warmer.
When the
time was right, the timber would be removed from its salt-water cure, transported
to the various shipyards around the island and crafted into extraordinarily
seaworthy vessels. The higher mysteries of this process are described by Sainz's
Valencian who explained that through the ages shipbuilders used "the direction
of the grain in the wood in such as way that the orientation of the timber [would]
help the elasticity of the good Aleppo pine to provide the strength needed for
navigation with sail and oar."
The craftsman
carries on in a rather esoteric vein, revealing that "The shapes and dimensions
are embedded into the bodies of the trees . . . Not one of them is straight,
they are all leaning, or curved, or have other rare tendencies, depending on
winds: for initiates in naval construction they are part of a kind of magical
art, in which each piece fits perfectly into the final puzzle, as if prefabricated
by the hand of Neptune. These are sacred timbers . . . the secret of (Ibiza's)
forests."
Whether
the Ibicenco woodland was, in fact, endowed with some magical essence that heightened
the quality of its timber, or whether it was simply the process of salt-curing
rendered them superior, is up to each reader to decide for himself. What can
be said is that, based on the investigations of ancient shipwrecks, there is
reason to believe that the art of shipbuilding - following the method just described
- was practised from at least the 8th and 7th centuries
BC until the early 20th century.
Join us
next week when we'll sail to Formentera for the fiestas of Sant Francesc Javier.
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