A Fading Glory of Castro Urdiales: The Gothic Church of the Conception

Its layout, just a few meters from the lighthouse-castle, on one of the promontories that dominate, like a metaphorical falcon, one of the most important ports in the Cantabrian Sea, Castro Urdiales, not only offers an unforgettable perspective, but also a spectacular one, the mere sight of which evokes echoes of eternity in the retinas of travelers and pilgrims who arrive in this important town in Cantabria for the first time.

Its genesis, as the British writer G.K. Chesterton would say, referring to every good biography, begins in the 13th century, witnessing the mature age of a king, raised and protected in Soria by the Twelve Lineages, who, answering to the name of Alfonso VIII, promoted its construction.

We are also speaking of a period of extraordinary prosperity, in which Castro Urdiales, having become a true pearl of the Cantabrian Sea, grew rich thanks to the trade flow that occurred, especially with France and the Netherlands, where they also saw the arrival of a significant influx of pilgrims, accompanied by master stonemasons, who, in some way, combined their knowledge with that of the stonemasons of Trasmiera, leaving behind a legacy of a historical, artistic, and cultural heritage of the highest order.

One of the main elements of this heritage is this Gothic church, the sight of whose structure is more than enough to appreciate the vast differences that existed between the obsolescence of the prevailing style until then, the Romanesque, and a novel conception of sacred architecture, whose origins, despite the hundreds of speculations that are currently collected, remain a true mystery: the Church of the Conception.

Possibly, in this very place where its stylized Meccano structure now gleams, Neolithic men erected, facing the raging sea, those primitive tomb-temple dolmens. These dolmens, centuries later, were undermined when the engineers accompanying the powerful Roman legions raised altars dedicated to the imposing figure of Jupiter, over villas that went down in history with names of romantic legend, such as Flaviobriga.

Curiously, and despite the fact that at first glance it gives the impression of a harmonious mass made with brilliantly imaginative designs, this jewel of Cantabrian Gothic, considered one of the Cultural Assets of the Northern Way, has been affected for centuries by a dangerous disease, which, under the name of "sick stone," tends to turn its ashlars into sandstone.

This unfortunate circumstance is particularly evident in the formidable sculpture that surrounds it, which, as the mysterious French artist Fulcanelli said, could also be considered slang, that is, with a double meaning. This unfortunately makes its cryptic message much more difficult to interpret, and over time, it becomes merely a memory borne away by time.

But for now, and despite the latest renovations to consolidate its formidable structure, travelers, pilgrims, the curious, and art lovers in general have in it one of the most spectacular Gothic elements of the Cantabrian Coast, a visit to which, regardless of one's creed or philosophy, will leave no one indifferent.

NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property and are therefore subject to my copyright.