THE CAVES OF CASTELLANA

By J. V. F. Rusher

I first read of the Castellana Caverns, situated south west of Bari, in southern Italy, in an old Blackwood’s Magazine. This account so stirred my imagination that I determined to go and explore the caves myself. Having visited Palermo and Catania in Sicily, I travelled up to Castellana and arrived at this small market village early one spring morning. Vito Mattarese, the Italian guide, was waiting at the station.

Before discovering the caves in 1938, Vito was just a simple peasant, but one with an unnatural urge to explore the deep hole near his home. Being a brave strong man he overcame his fear of the dark, haunted spot and went down. As always happens, caving fever gripped him and he struck out deeper and deeper under the ground. Then Dr. Francis Anelli, at one time curator of the famous caves in Postumia, heard of his find and helped Vito in his exploration. They started to open the cavern to the public, piercing the ” Grave’s ” side with steps leading to its floor. They then began to construct a gallery down the main passage but the war put a stop to this. Then, in 1945, when Istria, with the Postumia cavern, was ceded to Yugoslavia, Dr. Anelli pressed the government for Castellana to take its place. The work went on apace, lighting was installed and the gallery was lengthened ; visitors increased and the money rolled in.

A taxi took us out to the grotto, surprisingly changed by the hand of man. The guide Vito, now no more the strong, sturdy peasant, kept a bar and had at least eight children. A tea garden surrounded the walled cavern’s mouth, walled so that no visitor should fall down its 150 ft. shaft. The welcome was no less hearty though, the family gave me breakfast, and it was Nini, Vito’s eldest son, who acted as my guide. He could speak a very fair amount of English, and learnt more from me, though I learnt no more Italian.

Castellana village, as was later explained to me by Dr. Anelli, is at the bottom of a large drainage area. The rain, which falls with great intensity during two or three months of the year, runs, down into certain deep pits, one the Grotto, another the village’s communal drain. The water, as in Gaping Gill, fills these holes (the stream above the grotto has been diverted) and is forced under pressure through the passages. The Murge tableland, under which the stream runs, is of semi-crystalline limestone, which is acted on very easily by the water. The system is very deep and the upper chambers, which have been explored, show no signs of recent water action. The stream, having passed through the system, flows into the Adriatic south of Bari, having descended 250 metres. Nobody has yet reached this great depth, since all entrances are barred by narrow passages.

Having descended the countless steps to the ” Grave’s ” bottom we followed the man-made tourist track. Indeed it was all very wonderful, but the pristine beauty was spoilt by the path driven through the natural passages regardless of the floor, which must have been at one time very lovely. Nini tried to show me the caves as if I had been any other tourist but I refused to behave as such. When I took it into my head to go crawling through some narrow passage he soon changed his tune and we branched off the main path. He was not half as energetic as I had anticipated and it amazed me to think that he, with all these unexplored caverns beneath his feet, should be no more adventurous.

The industrious Italians, though, had managed to build their beastly path right to the very last cavern, which I had hoped would still be untainted. Luckily however the money had run out and the lighting system did not reach that far. The last cavern, a sparkling white, reflected our lamplight from the myriad glistening facets of its walls. Everything is on a much grander scale than in England, but the whole feeling of adventure is desecrated by wanton commercialisation.

As we returned I tried to sound Nini on caves in the neighbourhood, but it was quite obvious that all his energy had been expended on showing people round this one. Immediately after lunch we went down again. With the aid of a rope we scrambled down a scree slope consisting of rubble from the workings above. Amongst this I found smashed stalagmites which must have formed at one time the floor of the man-made gallery. We crawled along various passages until our way was blocked by a barrier of stalactites. We returned the same way and I quite enjoyed the tourist part, for the lights were out and I could imagine how it had looked to the first explorer.

I feel that given a party of determined explorers led by someone with a working knowledge of Italian, this district of the Murge should yield even deeper and more beautiful caverns. During my visit I was however unable to find out whether such caves had already been discovered by the Italians and ignored by Dr. Anelli, or whether they are still waiting to be found.