Alix and I first went to see a depiction of Middle Earth back in 2009, when I was doing my post-graduate studies at Gloucester University. The 14th century map of the known world – the Mappa Mundi – is housed in Hereford Cathedral, and we had a day trip there to see it (and the chained library, of Harry Potter fame). It’s the largest medieval map of the world and, if memory serves, was painted on goatskin by monks at Lincoln Cathedral in around 1300. The monks used the best of their knowledge, presumably from earlier maps, augmented by tales of returning travellers that they interviewed at the time.
As there is normally a line of visitors to see it, you have limited time to study the fine detail when you are at the head of the queue, before the unheard tuts of those waiting behind you, force you to move on. So, we bought a scale print (for £20) and had it framed (for about £70; why are frames often more expensive than the art?) and hung it on the wall at home, so that we could study it in more detail at our leisure.
So, what did the known world look like to medieval monks? Well, east was north (up) for a start. The known world is shown as being round; a circle. The Mediterranean literally means ’In the middle of the land’ and the Sea was literally in the middle of the map, with Jerusalem taking centre stage. If you look carefully, you can make out all the familiar shapes of countries as we know them today, if you mentally rotate them through 90 degrees: Italy; Iberian Peninsula; Greece etc. The British Isles is off the left (north), although in less fine detail. In fact, the further you go from the Mediterranean, the sketchier the details. Africa, off to the right, is basically unknown, although there is a long, thick blue line or two, which one assumes is the River Nile. The Sinai Peninsula is very clear, and the Red Sea is literally painted red! Off to the top, the far east is a vagueness and full of pictures of marvellous beasts, such as dragons. You can make out icons depicting the major settlements at the time. Above the world are the angels and saints in heaven; and below everything is hell. It is fascinating.
And now we find ourselves ‘in the middle of the land’ or the ancient Middle Earth, some 720 years later. We have just spent our fourth night at anchor, this time in a bay called Cala Liccia, just south of Porto Cervo. Unlike the previous three nights, all the other boats that were here during the day, disappeared over the course of the late afternoon and evening, and we were left alone in the bay, with just a light wind and the wash of passing offshore luxury yachts to rock us to sleep. (And there are heaps of luxury yacht passing. Porto Cervo is quite like the Cote d’Azur and a playground for the stinking rich, with prices to match. That makes anchoring out, even more appealing. Alix’s next blog will give an insight!)
But what is the Mediterranean Sea? The term is actually a catch-all that was not coined until the 6th century. The ancient mariners used to call parts of this great water body by different names. And still do. For example, Alix and I have sailed in the Ionian Sea (which stretches from Sicily along the foot of Italy to Eastern Greece). We have also sailed and worked in the Aegean Sea, between Greece and Turkey. It turns out that Missy Bear’s Maiden Voyage, from Spain to Sardinia, was actually a crossing of the Sea of Sardinia (not the Western Med). I didn’t know that until just now. Right now, Missy Bear is anchored in the Tyrrhenian Sea, which is bounded by Corsica and Sardinia to the west, the Italian mainland to the west, and Sicily to the south. What’s the northern boundary? – the Ligurian Sea. The etymology of Tyrrhenian is not definitive, but could be based on an old name for the Etruscans from Tuscany.
The Mediterranean Sea is, therefore, an agglomeration of many local seas and peoples. But are there some other commonalities, that bring them all together into a coherent whole? For this, I turn to a sailing legend; Rod Heikell. Rod is a Kiwi sailor who has lived aboard several yachts with his wife over the years and knows the Mediterranean like the back of his hand. He has written many definitive pilot books that help the new sailing adventurer navigate around these waters. One of those books is called “The Mediterranean Handbook”, and I have now summarised some of his points that I find interesting.
In terms of geology, the sea was completely enclosed from the Atlantic and dried up into a series of salt lakes. About 5 million years, the land barrier between Spain and Morocco was breached (probably by a massive earthquake) and the Mediterranean Sea filled for the final time.
Any UK sailor will notice the very small tides, due to the small volume of the Sea, which is subsequently less affected by the gravitational pull of the moon and sun. There are complex currents though – roughly anticlockwise due to the Coriolis effect – and caused essentially by the evaporation of water in the sea, 50% of which is replaced by water coming in from the Atlantic. 1 million cubic metres per second!!
Geographers describe the area as bounded by the olive tree in the north and the palm tree in the south. Man, and his works, have changed the landscape remarkably, through deforestation, overgrazing by goats and sheep, etc. The ancients described lush green and fertile islands. However, many islands now are arid, and support little more than shrubby maquis and herby garrigue. This, in turn affects the diet.
One unifying dietary theme is the lack of pasture, and therefore beef, and therefore bovine dairy products. Olive oil is the culinary grease of choice, with sauces often using tomato paste, onions, peppers, lemon, herbs and spices. As sheep and goats can survive in the landscape, so that is the common meat. Wheat, e.g., for breads and pastas, and vines for wine, are other unifying themes. Herbs and spices are used, but different countries around the Mediterranean use slightly different ones to define their cuisines. Fish is also a unifying theme, but it is becoming an increasingly luxurious item for reasons I explained in a previous blog - “Gone fishing…”
Fishermen are turning to farming. One foodie thing that has surprised me is the size and cleanliness of the mussel. I have eaten mussels and clams quite often on our trip and I assumed the fat, juicy mussels must have been flown in from a region with colder waters. But, I was totally wrong. The Marina di Olbia for example is set within fields of farmed mussels. I have been eating local fare.
As I write this, we have just arrived at La Caletta, half way down the eastern side of Sardinia, in the Tyrrhenian Sea. It is a small town and holiday resort, but has a decent sized fishing fleet of a few large trawlers and dozens of smaller boats with fine nets and traps. The smaller boats are probably working the same way as their forebears did, when our monks in Lincoln were painting the Mappa Mundi.
Although overfishing and pollution is a problem in the Mediterranean, Rod points out that the catches here would never have been as great as fishermen enjoyed just outside the mouth of Middle Earth, west of Gibraltar. That is because Middle Earth is the nautical equivalent of a desert. Its waters are gin clear, because there are relatively few nutrients in it. And that means that there is little to support a huge biomass of phytoplankton and zooplankton at the bottom of the food chain.
Still, when I was diving off the back of Missy Bear’s bathing platform in Cala Liccia, I was quite happy that the waters of Middle Earth had no strong currents, no murky visibility, and no breath-catching coldness. No man wants three Adam’s apples!
