Atlantis and the Silver City (18 page)

It would originally have been an ideal, tempting site for establishing a town, situated at the northern end of a lagoon and with the shelter of the mountain range immediately behind. It is unlikely that it would have been established any farther north. With the Roman indication that Conistorgis was directly inland from Faro there are few, if any, other places where it could have been. As an interesting exercise, extracting the central letters from Conistorgis reveals
istor
, which is not wildly different from
Estoi
. The prefix
Coni
obviously reflects the indigenous people, the Conii.

If it was the Conii capital, the chances are that it was built on the site of another Atlantis town possibly overlooking a lake, inland lagoon, or reservoir … but not, I suggest, the capital.

One of Poseidon’s sons who was given dominion over an area of Atlantis was Mestor. If the “M” was dropped and the “E” replaced with an “I”— which would not have been unusual—this again gives “Istor.” In the same vein, another son was named Evaemon. One of the most famous ancient towns in the Alentejo region just north of the Algarve, a Unesco Heritage protected site, is Evora.

So, had I exhausted all the possibilities? All the obvious ones, yes— but, incredibly, there is another Algarve site that matches so many of the exacting clues left by Plato that it is quite impossible to be mere coincidence.

Prepare to be amazed.…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Capital Revealed

F
or those sighting it for the first time, this city exudes a strange fascination. The main roads from the south and east approach it from an elevated level; and when it first comes into view around a bend, there is invariably a sharp intake of breath. Tourists inevitably pull the car over and reach for a camera. Despite the urban sprawl now fanning out from its base over the plain, it is still very impressive, and coaches disgorge hundreds of sightseers there every day. But to be able to examine this town’s credentials, I first had to gather together all of Plato’s clues, including those used in the last chapter:

“Close to the plain in the center of the ‘island/peninsula’ was a mountain, not very high on any side.” In the next clue, Plato describes it as a hill: “It had a diameter of 925 meters [5 stadia]”—although as a natural hill, it is highly unlikely to have been exactly circular. “The hill was on flat land surrounded by mountains which descended in height toward the sea. It was close to the large coastal plain. Poseidon ‘broke the ground’ to completely encircle it with separate different width zones of land embankments and sea water. The first zone of sea closest to the hill was 185 meters [1 stadium] wide, followed by ones of land and sea, each of 370 meters [2 stadia], then a land zone of 555 meters [3 stadia] and, finally, a sea zone of the same
width where the towns harbor and docks were situated. This harbor was always heaving with activity, day and night. It was connected to the sea by 9.25 kilometers [50 stadia] of waterway.” Plato claims that these zones were so precisely spaced, they could have been turned with a lathe. “The land zones were faced in stone with towers and gates on the bridges where the sea passed from one zone to another.”

“They obtained three different colors of rock: white, black, and, unusually, red. All three colors were quarried from the center hill/island itself or from the encircling land zones. As they quarried, they hollowed out double docks, the roofs formed from the natural rock.”

“They built a variety of buildings, the grandest from all three colors of stone in a manner to please the eye.”

“The stone face of the outer zone embankment was overlaid with brass, the next with tin, and the one closest to the citadel in orichalcum”—a metal no longer available from mining and till now generally assumed to be a naturally formed alloy of copper and another metal. You will recall that an earlier chapter identified this as an alloy of gold and copper.

In the center—and one would presume on the highest part of the hill— was a holy temple dedicated to Poseidon and his wife. It was inaccessible to the public and encircled with gold.

Poseidon’s own temple palace was also here, and Plato implies that it included the above. It was 92.5 meters (half a stadium) wide and 185 meters (one stadium) long and covered on the outside in silver, with pinnacles in gold.

“In the next place, presumably immediately below, were two plentiful fountains, one of cold water, the other hot.”

“They also built cisterns, some of them open to the heavens, others roofed over for winter bathing.”

There was sufficient run-off water to irrigate the “grove of Poseidon” (on the central island), which was full of “all manner of trees of wonderful height and beauty, owing to the excellence of the soil,” and also to provide a supply to the outer zones.

“The docks were full of naval stores and triremes” (a type of Greek ship powered by rows of oarsmen; his reference to these vessels illustrates my earlier point that Plato colors the story for his Greek audience).

“There was yet another stone wall starting at the sea, forming a circle of 9.25 kilometers’ radius from the harbor, encircling the whole complex and countryside.”

“The entire area was densely crowded with houses, and the canal and harbor were also full of vessels and merchants from all parts.” (This implies that Atlantis wasn’t the only advanced civilization at that time, unless he meant to imply “from all parts of the empire.”)

By now, readers will have appreciated that we have been given much definitive information here: distances, measurements, topography, and geology. If I found a site to comply with half a dozen of these points, it would be considered acceptable and regarded as beyond coincidence. Many theories have been built on less, such as that for the Greek island of Santorini. The city mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, however, complies with eighteen of them! The chances of that being a coincidence would have to be expressed as many millions to one.

If there remains any doubt about my theory that southwest Iberia was the Atlantis described by Plato, then this chapter offers conclusive evidence.

The town is Silves, the once-opulent Moorish capital of the Algarve and the one the Crusaders laid siege to (Chapter Six). It is a five-minute drive from where I have been living for twenty-seven years—and, I must confess, when I was first assembling the complete list of Plato’s clues I immediately saw a remarkable number of similarities with Silves. But I determined that I should verify all the other clues about Atlantis first: to not jump ahead of myself based only on what I saw here. If the clues
all
stacked up, then the astounding revelation about Silves could be the equivalent of the final dazzle and explosion at the end of a pyrotechnic display.

Surprisingly, Plato gave more precise clues relating to the Atlantis capital than anything else. The account is so detailed that it could almost be firsthand, rather than a record preserved for nine thousand years. So why has no one recognized it before? It is as though there has been a collective amnesia about the role of the Algarve in Europe’s ancient past, almost as if it didn’t even exist.

So why me? Why now? The answer could simply be because I had bought a house just down the road from Silves and was fascinated by Atlantis and with ancient civilizations in general. The right place at the
right time—luck, or fate. Or, if you are inclined to conspiracy theories, and higher or sinister forces, it could be that, until now, mankind had not reached the level to appreciate what we could now be about to discover from archaeological research on the seabed in front of the region.

Back to Plato’s clues. The first similarity to strike me was the distance from the sea. Silves is connected to the coast by the River Arade. It rises in the wilds of the mountains and eventually runs through a small but fertile plain before shouldering right up against Silves and then flowing on down to the sea.

Today, despite being only a vestige of its former self, the section from Silves to the coast is still a substantial river. Significantly, it is tidal right up to Silves. On fine days, a flotilla of boats takes tourists upstream on the tide from Portimão, the port at the mouth of the river. They stroll about and wonder at ancient Silves and its monuments, then return on the ebb tide.

Before reaching the coast, the river flows into a large estuary, its water swollen by the confluence with the Odelouca River just west of Silves and yet more water from a river descending from Monchique pouring into the same estuary. Years ago, other rivers joined the Arade on either side of Silves, but today these flow only after heavy rain.

Depending on where it is measured from, the coast or somewhere in the estuary, the distance from Silves could be 9.25 kilometers. From the coast to Silves city, it is a little farther; but Plato gave the measurement of 9.25 kilometers from the harbor on the outer ring of water surrounding the town. That is pretty well the distance it is today, from what will presently be shown to have been the harbor area.

Silves is built on a small hill, only a couple of kilometers from the remaining narrow coastal plain, and is itself on a separate small plain, all exactly as Plato described in clues 24 and 26. The hill is not particularly high; but when you puff your way up to the castle from any side, it is easy to appreciate that it was sufficiently steep to make laying siege to it difficult.

In clue 62, Plato gives the hill’s diameter as five stadia; that’s 925 meters. It is difficult to arrive at a current measurement for comparative purposes because of the inevitable changes due to rising sea levels and the effects of earthquakes and tsunamis. Measured from what would have been the water level if the surroundings were flooded, it would be 800 to 850 meters east
to west, and 600 to 650 meters north to south. The Silves hill is not exactly circular, and this is exaggerated by a park of trees that extends from the hill on the west side. If this park is included, the measurement would be nearer a thousand meters. I think it should be, and will explain why later.

There are, however, many other variables. The high-tide level of the river is, for instance, lower than the current land levels around the hill. These land levels will have risen over thousands of years, so diminishing the width of the hill. Infuriatingly, Plato made a habit of giving measurements in round stadia rather than as a precise fraction. I suppose that should not be surprising, given the huge time span involved. That he was a little cavalier with his figures is, however, illustrated by the fact that he had to convert them from the Egyptian—or Solon did. The chances of them all equaling exact Greek stadium lengths must be extremely remote. Just for example, 4.6 stadia would have been 851 meters. (
SEE IMAGES
19, 20,
AND
21
IN THE PHOTO INSERT
.)

Allowing for all of this, I was amazed at how remarkably similar the size is.

Clue 25 states that Poseidon, “breaking the ground, enclosed the hill all round, making alternate zones of sea and land, larger and smaller encircling one another.…” Note that he said
“sea.”
That Silves was once surrounded by water looks obvious when the topography and vegetation are studied—but I wanted certainty. I arranged a meeting with Ricardo Tomé, head of the Geographic Department of the local authority. A knowledgeable geologist, he has made a study of the whole area around Silves in the course of his work as well as researching the geographical and seismic events that have folded and shaped the landscape of his native land over millennia. He confirmed my suspicions. His survey had shown clear evidence from sedimentary deposits that the hill had once been surrounded by water.

Ricardo and other local Portuguese people I have spoken to also remember large areas of land, in front of and to the west of Silves, being reclaimed from the water. In their youth, they recollect seeing men laboring there to build up the riverbank and depositing or redistributing soil to raise the overall level so it would not be subject to future flooding. Part of this land is now the town’s main car park, together with a new recreational park complete with hundreds of trees.

The existence of the 9.25-kilometer tidal river would explain how Poseidon was able to surround the hill with the “sea.”

Further on in
Critias
, Plato writes that the Atlanteans later dug out a huge canal linking the city to the coast, also three hundred feet wide and a hundred feet deep, seemingly ignoring the existing river (clue 56). Plato was obsessed with canals and, over the years, many people have scoffed at the sheer size of this one. Why so deep and wide? Were ocean liners navigating it daily, with passengers gaily waving as their vessels passed each other? The depth is extraordinary. By comparison, the Panama Canal, regularly used by ocean liners, is only forty-two feet deep.

The existing river has silted up considerably, affecting its depth and width, particularly after it was dammed upstream from Silves during the last century. As recently as fifty years ago, large boats regularly traversed it, collecting such produce as cork from Silves. Even today it is still expansive in places, and plans have existed for more than a decade to dredge huge amounts of silt from it to make it navigable for large tourist boats and leisure craft at all times, instead of just at high tide. Given that Plato indicated that the hill was already connected to the sea by what must have been a substantial river for it to have provided enough water to surround the hill to widths of 185, 370, and 555 meters, why go to the enormous trouble of digging out another sea access? It just does not make sense and smacks of unnecessary embroidering by Plato—or at least an unfortunate misunderstanding of the original information given by the old Egyptian priest. Most likely, Solon was only told that the capital was connected to the sea by a wide waterway. That Plato was confused is highlighted by his telling us that the hill was surrounded by seawater before the canal was supposedly built. More conceivable is that Poseidon dug out parts of the river that may not have been of adequate depth and effected a little widening and straightening here and there.