Atlantis and the Silver City

by Peter Daughtrey

  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.

  During more recent episodes in the history of Silves, notably the Moorish and Roman eras, accounts indicate that even during those periods there was extensive water, at least to the west of Silves. One part of it was used for curing timber destined for boatbuilding, and it is thought that the Romans had a harbor there.

  The account of the siege by the “anonymous Crusader” quoted in Jonathan Wilson’s book discussed in Chapter Six also mentions ditches surrounding the fortress, which the besiegers had to negotiate. Today we usually understand a “ditch” to be small and narrow, but in those days it meant a substantial water hazard.

  So, I had already ticked off seven of the clues as a match to Silves:

  1. It already had a connection to the sea.

  2. This was fifty stadia long (9.25 kilometers).

  3. It was on a small hill.

  4. The actual size of the hill is still very similar today.

  5. It was on a flat plain.

  6. It was once surrounded by water.

  7. It was close to the great agricultural plain.

  I now switched my focus to several crucial clues relating to detail about the capital.

  Today Silves is topped by an imposing castle, not unlike to the one that confronted the Crusaders. Just below it stands the town’s cathedral, although the Crusaders would have seen a mosque. In clue 70, the area given by Plato as being occupied by the temple was 185 meters by 92.5 meters (one stadium by half a stadium). That closely matches the current quadrant of space taken by the castle and cathedral … about 200 meters by 100 meters. As mentioned earlier, successive civilizations tend to build like over like.

  Poseidon arranged for the town’s water supply to flow from two fountains he created just below the palace (clue 73). Today, not far below the castle, is the town’s museum. It was constructed in the 1990s around a huge, unusual well—dating back to the Moorish period—that had recently been uncovered. Apart from being surprisingly wide, it has a staircase winding down around its outer circumference. It is not known whether the Moors built it on the site of an earlier one. (SEE IMAGE 22 IN THE PHOTO INSERT.)

  The earlier chapter on water detailed the frequency with which it naturally pops out of the ground or rock as springs. Most of the houses in the Algarve countryside today have a borehole to tap into the underground supply. Interestingly, in most cases the spot to drill is still pinpointed by a traditional dowser. Hot or warm water is, even now, still flowing profusely in places like Caldas de Monchique.

  Quite large cisternas for storing water have been found in Silves. One of them is in the castle grounds, and another was recently discovered between the castle and the cathedral. It was excavated and mapped, then recovered.

  “Of the water which ran off, they carried some to the Grove of Poseidon, where were growing all manner of trees of wonderful height and beauty, owing to the excellence of the soil … while the remainder was conveyed by aqueduct bridges to the outer circles” (clues 76 and 77). On the west side of Silves, there are a park and gardens at the bottom of the hill. It well could once have been wider, as it is bounded by houses and tennis courts to the south and a technical college to the north. At its western extremity, it is bordered by a small river flowing north to south. Its current soil level is a little higher than the plain surrounding the town, particularly to the south, and it would have been even more so before the plain was reclaimed from water. This park has tall, handsome trees and shaded, fertile flower beds. We do not have exact information from Plato for the position of the grove, but this area fulfills his description. It could not have been on the steep sides of the hill, so it would have also distorted the size and the shape of the land imprint of the capital, making it more egg-shaped. That is exactly what the Silves hill is today.

  Like everyone else, I don’t care to visit the local tax office more than absolutely necessary, but I have to admit that there is something there that fascinates me. One day while standing in line to pay our local council tax, I noticed a large painted tile panel on the back wall near the counter. It was obviously copied from an old print depicting Silves a good few centuries ago, and it was more or less what you would expect the town to have looked like, apart from one intriguing detail: emerging sideways from the town’s ramparts on the west side is what looks like a tall aqueduct. Unfortunately, it is chopped off by the end of the panel and only three arches are visible. Nothing remains of it today, so I turned to my historian friend, Jonathan Wilson, for more information. He said the archaeologists’ view was that it had been a defensive emplacement and had a tower on the end to enable the town’s defenders to fire arrows and hurl rocks and/or flaming fat at any enemy trying to scale or damage the town walls. It may well have been used for that purpose eventually, but it is where Plato indicated that an aqueduct existed to take water out to the embankments in the direction of the grove. The arches and pillars supporting it are very slender, so demolishing one or two to bring it crashing down would not have been a difficult task for a besieging army. If it was going to serve that purpose, it would have needed to be more robust. Consequently, I doubt it was built originally as a defensive ploy; but, in later life after the outer reaches had been damaged by earthquakes, the remaining part abutting the town wall had been adapted for that purpose. It would be impossible for it to have survived ten or eleven thousand years, but it is quite feasible that later occupants, such as the Romans or the Conii, redeveloped it on the remnants and foundations of an original aqueduct.

  In view of the many changes in the intervening millennia, it might seem presumptuous to claim the grove and aqueduct as exact clue “hits,” but they definitely demonstrate that there is an area and structure that could have fulfilled this purpose. They are both more likely to have been on this west side as fresh water from “upstream” would have been available for the other side, so water from the fountains would not have been necessary for irrigation.

  So, four more clues measure up:

  8. The size given for the palace equates to the current space occupied by the castle and cathedral.

  9. There is freely available water.

  10. An area within the confines of the city that could have
been Poseidon’s Grove.

  11. Vestiges of an aqueduct.

  Silves was looking very promising indeed, but I still had to tackle both the most telling and most difficult facts. They would be very hard to comply with.

  “The stone which was used in the work was quarried from underneath the central island, and from zones on the outer as well as the inner side … one kind was white, another black, and a third red” (clues 64 and 65). This refers to the buildings in the city and on the embankments.

  This is astonishingly precise information, and the chances of meeting it seemed daunting. The first two colors are prominently visible in most Portuguese towns, if not in buildings, then most certainly to be spotted in the traditional cobbled pavements and squares. The Portuguese call these paving stones calçadas, and white and black are often combined in intricate, attractive patterns or simple pictures such as boats, anchors, or birds. Silves is no exception.

  Much less common is red stone.

  Except, that is, in Silves, where you simply cannot get away from it. The mighty castle and town walls were built from it, as were many other buildings. Ricardo Tomé, the town’s geologist, informed me that a narrow stratum of this unusual lode runs from the western Algarve, near Lagos, through and behind Silves, then eastward in an arc through the foothills, before petering out in the region of the town of Tavira. It is red sandstone and was formed by the compression of an ancient beach. Nowhere, however, is it more prominent than in the Silves area—and nowhere else is it used so prolifically for building. (SEE IMAGES 23 AND 24 IN THE PHOTO INSERT.)

  Before meeting Ricardo, I had mentally wrestled with Plato’s other assertion, that the three colors were all hewn from the small hill and some from the outer embankments. It would be unique and highly unlikely within such a small, closely defined area: that the red stone was available in Silves was indisputable, but the white and black were more problematic.