Caves, Senses, and Ritual Flows in the Iberian Iron Age: The Territory of Edeta

4.1 Getting Started

Getting started is the hardest part: both in mobilising a ritual journey and in trying to reconstruct how people achieved this in the past. It is, however, one of the most important parts of the ritual and interpretative processes as decisions taken at this stage condition what follows.

The settlement archaeology of the Edeta territory provides us with a variety of potential starting points: hillforts, villages, large and small hamlets, and, of course, the oppidum (see Figures 1 and 2). The archaeological assemblages in the caves cannot be linked exclusively to one place or group of people. Therefore, although for the purposes of our spatial analysis we use the oppidum as a starting point, our interpretative account remains open to participants drawn from a variety of communities. So, for example, while elite factions from Edeta may have led some occasional, larger scale ritual passages to the caves, it is possible that the caves’ ritual assemblages were also formed during the course of repeated smaller scale group visits from the closest dwelling places. How, and when, did people from one or more of these places – some with evidence of ritual performances of their own – come together to form a temporary group setting out with at least one of their goals being to connect with supernatural forces at one of their sacred caves situated on the margins of their territory?

A core group of people needed to take responsibility, for planning, as well as persuading participants, whose personal motivations, understandings, and expectations would have varied. Previous experience and decision-making would have counted here, particularly considering that the caves can be hard to find (Machause López, 2019). Leadership is implied here, but not necessarily or exclusively that of elites; ritual journeys could have been organised by groups of diverse size and social standing, including families. Communication was essential. Culture and tradition conditioned and constrained, but each event required a new set of decisions, adaptations, and explanations to be made. Who to include (and who to leave behind, according to political status, kin-affiliation, age, gender, etc.), what provisions to take and give, when to depart, what route to take, which cave to target, what to ask for, and when to repeat the process.

As archaeologists, we can highlight, in particular, the material things that the participants would have selected and brought together at this stage, working back from what they ultimately deposited in the caves. Examples include human and animal bodies and disarticulated remains, large and small ceramic containers, metal weapons, and ornaments. These raise a number of questions, some of which have the potential to be answered by additional scientific analysis. What types of material things were included, and how do they compare to the material culture used in the settlements? Over what catchment areas were these materials procured? In what numbers and weights were they transported? Might beasts of burden and carts have been used? What did the ceramic vessels contain? When were the animals slaughtered? New details will emerge, but a risk remains that, in referring back to the palimpsest of ritual deposits in the caves, we produce an over-generalised account of the ritual process; we must bear in mind that, in practice, the pilgrimage differed each time it was performed.

Having, then, (re)assembled these things and themselves, the participants would eventually have set off on their journey, perhaps gaining members, materials, and momentum as they crossed the domestic landscape, taking a break to rest and eat, but also stopping to perform minor ritual acts at significant points along the way (Nordin, 2009, p. 197) (see possible paths followed in Figure 2). The actual paths followed remain unknown as no evidence of trail markers has yet been identified. Depending on the starting point, the duration of this stage could have been longer or shorter. If we consider it to have been the main oppidum, located 15–18 km from the caves, a whole day would have been required for a round trip (i.e. between 5 and 8 h one way) (Machause López & Diez Castillo, in prep.). However, we cannot dismiss the possibility of people spending the night inside or next to the caves before returning to Edeta, especially considering the time spent inside the caves.

4.2 Ascending

With about an hour’s walk to go before reaching Merinel cave and 20 min to Sapo cave, the ritual journey would have changed character. This transition was marked, first, by crossing the river Turia, which is likely to have taken on a symbolic significance. This was followed by the inevitable ascent of the respective hills of Loma de la Pinada and Atalaya Hill (Figure 5(2)).

As the group climbed, the landscape would have felt different and opened up around them (on a clear day), with extensive views back towards the River Turia valley, Edeta oppidum’s mountain and the sea, and ahead to further hillslopes. The materials they carried would have weighed heavier. For example, large jars each with a capacity of 50‒100 L were borne up to the caves, which (depending on their contents) would mean a 40–100 kg load, according to experimental archaeology calculations (Vives-Ferrándiz, Bonet, Izquierdo, & Mata, 2007, Table 2). The pilgrims would certainly have adjusted their bodily postures.

Each journey and each cave afforded somewhat different experiences (both our own visits and our least cost path calculations confirm this). In particular, the way up to Merinel is more demanding (steeper), but shorter, than that to Sapo.

Ultimately, the guides of the group would have decided how to tackle the ascents, including whether to make deviations past landmarks such as the awe-inspiring doline of Sima Colomera, close to Merinel (see (Figure 5: bottom left and 3D video in the Online Supplementary Material^[3]).

4.3 Cave Environs

The close environs of each cave (within a radius of 30 min walking distance) needed to be carefully negotiated – physically, visually, and verbally. As both caves can be, to varying degrees, difficult to locate and access, the group would have needed guiding forward by people who had visited them before. At the same time, the group would have continued to orientate themselves with reference back to the known landscape they had come from (Figure 5(3)).

Merinel cave is set at the back of a depression in its hillside. This place and the cave’s three entrances are visible from below and from the opposite hill, but not from above. This provided an opportunity to re-order, more formally, the participants immediately prior to arriving (Turner, 1967). It is difficult to reach due the presence of three, interconnecting, steeply sloping ravines, which confuse and physically challenge visitors, whatever route they take. At least one of these barriers needs to be crossed, using the adjacent hills as reference points (see Figue 5: bottom left and 3D video in the Online Supplementary Material). The symbolic potential of this crossing is evident.

In contrast, Sapo cave is a hole in the ground. It is, therefore, invisible beyond a distance of 15 m, and consequently difficult to locate and relocate. It is safest and less demanding to approach it from below, via its northeast hillslope, where, on a clear day, the view back to Edeta’s landscape and the sea steadily improves (see Figures 3(2) and 5: bottom right and 3D video in the Online Supplementary Material).

4.4 Arriving

Arriving immediately outside the cave entrances would have represented another significant stage in each journey. Groups would have rested, re-grouped, and reviewed the landscape here to varying degrees according to the arduousness of the ascent just undertaken, the group size, and the precise configuration of flat and sloping ground in front of each cave. Immediately outside Merinel cave’s entrances, the space is narrow and sloping: you feel confined, it is difficult to sit here, you are enticed by the immediately visible left-hand entrance, which is well lit with a flat floor (Figure 5(4-left)). In contrast, at Sapo, small groups of people can sit on the relatively flat rocky rim of the cave hole and admire the view back towards the sea (Figure 5(3 and 4-right)).

A few people may also have gathered firewood at this stage, to take inside, if they had not already carried it up in bundles. The sight of the cave entrances would have elicited a variety of emotions depending on each person: relief at having arrived, exhaustion for some participants (related to their age or physical condition), but also expectation tinged with both excitement and anxiety about what was to happen inside these architecturally striking stone structures. The emotional rush is particularly strong outside Sapo cave where it becomes evident that you will next need to climb down a deep hole with vertical walls (Figure 8(5)).

Before proceeding, decisions and announcements were required as the configuration of the group. Who would enter first, who next, who last, and who not. One can assume that established social categories and relations counted.

4.5 Entering

The next step taken by the participants was to transgress one of the cave entrances. The significance of this stage within the whole ritual process cannot be understated. Thresholds and doorways are of cross-cultural symbolic significance, involving bodily practice of transition, transformation, and liminality, particularly, when crossed during the course of rites of passage (Bourdieu, 1977; Eriksen, 2013; van Gennep, 1960). These general concepts are applicable to the Edetan caves. Nevertheless, according to their precise form, number and position, and to who was negotiating them, the impact and import of the cave entrances would have varied culturally.

The spatial and social configuration of the group immediately outside the cave entrances would now have been set in motion. Merinel and Sapo caves’ entrances needed to be negotiated one-by-one (Figures 6(5.1–5.3) and 8(5)). An order to people entering was, therefore, required. Some members of the group may even have chosen, or been obliged, to stay outside, according to their social status.

Experientially, the cave entrances would have been evaluated in terms of their ease (or difficulty) of access, including the extent to which their adjacent interior spaces were lit and visible. Merinel has three entrances, two of which lead directly and one indirectly to the circular space that precedes the interior ritual deposit (as can be seen in Figure 6(5.1–5.3) and the access analysis presented in Figure 7(1)). The small triangular entrance on the left-hand side (when facing the cave) is now the most accessible because of its flat floor, which lies on the same level as the space outside, and because you can discern the main interior space of the cave from it (once your eyes have adapted to the relative darkness). The middle, square entrance is more difficult to negotiate – depending on your agility and risk appetite – because it requires climbing down, assisted by speleothems that offer handholds and footholds, and in some cases by other people. The relatively large, oval, right-hand entrance seems easier from outside (if one ignores the dense vegetation that currently blocks it), but is actually the most difficult for accessing the ritual deposit as a 10 m deep, steep, and slippery, slope needs to be negotiated using a rope or a ladder. Depending on the emotional and sensorial requirements of each performance (Hamilakis, 2013; Hamilton et al., 2016), any of these entrances could have been chosen. Indeed, we should not discount their simultaneous use by different sub-groups, ordered, for example, by age or gender.

Figure 5

Ascending (2), cave environs (3), and arriving (4) at Cueva Merinel (left) and Cueva del Sapo (right) (human scale: 1.90 m), with specific location in the landscape (3D view) and orientation of the picture.

At Sapo, it is not yet certain how people in the past might have entered the cave because, in addition to today’s vertical-sided, 5.5 m deep, hole, which needs to be climbed down nowadays with the help of a rope, a ladder, or just the fig tree (Figure 8(5)), our 3D map of the cave system indicates that a more accessible entrance might have connected the surface to the cave’s corridor (see 3D profile in Figure 8), one end of which seems to be blocked by a substantial rock fall (Figure 8(7.1–7.2)). If entry was via the vertical hole, then a quick decision would have been required as to how to proceed, because of the restricted space, the steeply sloping and uneven floor at the bottom of the hole, and the need to proceed one at a time. Either one can stay standing and walk down the sloping corridor to the right (northeast) through a natural rock doorway (Figure 8(7.4)), or one can crouch and move to the left (southwest) through a small triangular entrance (Figure 8(6 and 7.3)). Both portals present uninviting darkness ahead (see Figure 7(2)). Human entries into dark spaces often elicit apprehension over the unseen and unknown, although there are some who find such encounters, and their particular “visual temporality”, attractive, challenging, and exciting (Weismantel, 2013). Ultimately, whoever was at the front of the group would have led the way.

4.6 Just Inside

Having crossed the cave’s threshold, members of the group would have entered into a transitional zone and state. A key shared perceptual feature in caves is a first impression that you are both “inside” and “below”: in an underground space closed in by rock, whose environment contrasts with that just left behind. Perception of this transition can be marked or subtle, immediate or gradual, accurate or misjudged, fleeting or memorable, depending on the cave morphology and especially on the light level, in what always turns out (when measured objectively) to be a twilight zone.

At Merinel, the left-hand entrance transitions seamlessly into a circular entrance chamber, 5 by 6 m in extent with a 4 m high ceiling (Figure 6(6)). Up to 10 people can stand up or sit down in this space and breathe easily due to fresh air circulating from the entrances. Not surprisingly, this chamber has been used as a shelter on several occasions (for shepherds, fugitives, and archaeologists) (F. Blay, personal communication, 2015).

At Sapo, having entered first via the vertical hole and then progressed down through the portal to the right, the transition is much more rapid (Figure 8(7.4)). It takes place in the first 2–3 m of the now underground corridor, which remains lit, but obscured by one’s own and other people’s bodies behind when heading to the bottom of the cave, and with darkness immediately ahead.

These transitions had the potential to be marked by preliminary ritual acts. These, however, need not have left any material traces.

The mood of groups also tends to change at this point, becoming more serious, alert, and focussed on what lies around and ahead. Leadership and decision-making come again to the fore in response to the question of how to proceed, although the cave morphologies also play an influential part (see Figure 7). From the entrance chamber in Merinel, you cannot see the middle cave entrance, but with light beaming through it, a group of speleothems are highlighted ahead, drawing visitors on and to the right, rather than left through an easily overlooked but intriguing, modified, rectangular doorway (see right human grey shape in Figure 6(6)). In Sapo, the only option is to continue on down the corridor (Figure 8(7.4)).

4.7 Moving on Through the Cave

Each group’s progress deeper into the caves would have been characterised by some similar and novel experiences and perceptions. As before, an experienced guide is likely to have continued to lead the way, with the rest of the company following as a unified group (albeit with different levels of agility). Some participants, however, might have progressed on their own, depending on their physical and emotional confidence. Safety for oneself and one another would again have been a key concern, augmented now by a growing sense of unease as the known became replaced by the strange, twilight by more complete darkness, tempo by timelessness. While the outside world began to be forgotten, abnormal vibrant things would have been encountered: dripping speleothems, bats, and cave insects. Immaterial small-scale ritual acts could again have been performed along the way.

Each cave system affords a different bodily and emotional experience, depending on each person, how challenging they find the underground spaces to stand in and move through, levels and qualities of light, sound and humidity, the amount and stability of rocks and sediments underfoot, the extent to which bats are flapping around, and so on.

In Merinel, the light filtering in from the entrances dimly illuminates a circular space surrounded by tall stalactite columns, within which as many as 15 people can gather (Figure 6(7.1)). Some of the group may have remained here, looking forward into the gloom, and back at the cave entrances, which appear from this point like shining eyes (Figure 6(9)). Other people may have moved through the cave and stopped in an adjacent space, accessible from the oval entrance (Figure 6(5.3)), but separated from the circular space by a 10 m slope (Figure 6(7.4)). In the circular space, the light is strongest around the summer solstice, when an adjacent rock fall is also illuminated (Esteban, 2021). Having climbed over this (with help for those carrying objects in their hands), the cave presents a choice of direction: left, into a large downward sloping space with an accumulation of rocks, or right, to reach a cluster of small dark spaces, also delimited by speleothems (Figure 6(7.5 and 7.2)).

Sapo’s 18 m long corridor, which is straight and narrow (1.3–1.8 m wide) is more straightforward to navigate, but still presents challenges. The darkness instils anxiety, over personal safety and what lives down there. Descending the uneven and slippery slope in single file, visitors sometimes touch one or both side walls (Figure 8(7.4 and 9)). Doing this hands-free, while carrying things, can be particularly dangerous. You focus on reaching the end of the corridor, and you know when you have done so because the space opens up slightly (3.2 m wide) (both to the left and above; Figure 8(8.1)), the walls are now coated with some wet stalagmites, and you can feel the humidity and cold, especially in the summer (when the contrast with outside is strongest). Looking back, a little light illuminates the entrance to the corridor (Figure 8(9 and 10.1)). At around 3 pm in late summer, nowadays, it also reaches weakly to the bottom here, enabling you to discern without a torch the outline of the face of a person standing by the right (northeast) wall.

Hidden from sight, in some of the deepest, darkest, most humid, and cramped spaces of each cave, encased in otherworldly speleothems, a few representative members of each group would have now reached their sacred destinations.

4.8 Performing in Sacred Spaces

In our two caves, and in many others, the precise spaces to be sacralised through ritual acts of deposition share some key architectural and experiential features. Archaeological studies of ritualised underground spaces around the world agree that they are often amongst the deepest and darkest cave zones and, frequently being naturally bounded, they are restricted in size and secluded (e.g. Büster et al., 2019; Dowd, 2015; Moyes, 2012). Translated into experimental terms, visitors to these spaces can feel some discomfort (due to constrained bodily movement) and can feel isolated and disoriented (even if some light from the entrance can be seen), but they generally also feel calmer and more intimate, with the few other people there, and especially with the cave, whose damp surfaces they now inevitably touch with their bodies (Betts, 2003, p. 115; Tringham, 2013, p. 178) (see sensorial stimuli in Figure 4). This vibrant sensorial encounter also extends to the residues of previous rituals performed in those spaces, which often led to the accumulation of offerings. Depending on the available artificial light, these historic things could have been inspected, rearranged, and sampled, triggering echoes of former performances, times, and people. Repeating the ritual process in their own ways, our groups would have incorporated their own selection of symbolically significant offerings within these assemblages – including human remains, body ornaments, ceramic vessels, and their contents, selected joints and types of meat – all of which now referenced the lived-in world outside at the same time as appealing to the inhabitants of the underworld. Perhaps, members of the group took turns to deposit these things, moving from adjacent waiting areas in and out of the reified sensorium of the inner sanctum, where only shadows and muffled voices could be discerned. Codified body language and gestures would have contributed to communication during rituals. Some indication of these is provided by iconographic representations of the body in other Iberian Iron Age ritual contexts, including acts of giving, touching, looking, and listening. In particular, ritual corporeality is visible on some bronze votive offerings and terracotta figurines, with enlarged hands, eyes and ears, and bare feet, which underline the significance of the senses and of physical contact and communication with ritual spaces and supernatural forces (Grau, Amorós, & López-Bertran, 2017; López-Bertran & Víves-Ferrándiz, 2018; Rueda, 2011). More specifically, such gestures have been interpreted in terms of ritual actions such as presentation, salutation, prayer, propitiation of fertility, and different offerings (Nicolini, 1969; Prados, 1992).

Merinel’s ritual deposits extend across two small interconnected spaces, constricted by dripping speleothems, with dark and damp interiors. Just how developed and active these speleothems were 2000 years ago need to be established. Approaching from the left, a maximum of four or five people can squeeze into the first of the cavities (D1: measuring 2 m wide, 8 m deep, and 2 m high), with just one person standing and the others crouched, while only one or two people can see and fit into the connecting narrower space (D2: 0.7 m wide, 0.5 m deep, and 1 m high), on hands and knees (Figure 6(8.1 and 8.2)). A third, adjacent small space is even less accessible (needing to be approached from the right, squeezing between two speleothems), and lacks cultural deposits (see plan, with ritual deposit area highlighted in colour, in Figure 6). From within the two enclosed depositional spaces, you can hear people elsewhere in the cave but only see shadows, and so you can feel isolated and slightly disoriented. Ritual acts performed in these spaces would not have been entirely secret, particularly when artificially illuminated, but the sights and sounds reaching potential audiences situated at different observational points elsewhere in the cave would have been obscured to varying degrees, especially by the speleothem screens. These sensorial distinctions could have reinforced social ones within the group, but also had the liminal potential to challenge and modify them.

The deposits found here in Merinel had accumulated across many generations, spanning the Chalcolithic, Bronze Age, and Iberian Iron Age (at least, from 2250 BC until the last phase of the Iberian Iron Age: 300 BC) (Aparicio et al., 1983; Aparicio, 1991; Machause López, 2019). Encounters with old-fashioned objects, including fragments of distinctive bell beakers, flint flakes, a wooden bead and perforated Cardium shells, could have deepened the vibrancy of these spaces, as well as the legitimacy and social significance of the rituals (Bradley, 2002, pp. 122–123; Mills & Walker, 2008, p. 8).

The Iberian Iron Age ceramic vessels are relatively easy to categorise, by appearance and touch, and are likely to have retained their quotidian distinctions in the cave, albeit with new layers of symbolic significance. A collection of at least 20 more-or-less intact pottery vessels was recovered from Merinel, plus fragments representing many others. The most frequent form (in the currently published corpus) comprises around 42 small calyx vessels, none taller than 6.4 cm, with thin walls and plain surfaces, sometimes slip-coated and burnished (Figure 3(1c)). These could have been held – according to contemporary sculptural representations (Izquierdo, 2003) – by one donor, generally women, in two hands, with the thumbs behind and eight fingers gripped around the front, or in one hand by two people. Although also used in quotidian contexts, they multiplied as offerings in the cave, perhaps used as lamps or containing organic offerings, such as libations (Martínez Perona, 1992). Cooking jars and matching lids, made of a coarser reduced fabric, are likely to have held prepared food and drink. A few serving vessels – plates and bowls – made of a distinctive pale, oxidised, thin-walled fabric, decorated with painted geometric patterns (Figure 3(1c)) could also have presented offerings to chthonic forces.

Accompanying gifts of food are represented by the bones of pigs and ovicaprids (Figure 3(1a)). In both cases, there was a selective, symbolic emphasis on young animals (pigs of less than 6 months, ovicaprids less than 2 years) and on head parts (cranium and mandible fragments: pigs – 87% of all bones and ovicaprids – 81%) (Blay, 1992).

Three disarticulated human long bones (a tibia, a humerus, and a femur) were also found here. Some of these could have been ritually deposited along with other materials, whereas the femur that has been directly radiocarbon dated was deposited after the third century BC, at a time when the nature and significance of ritual practices might have placed a greater emphasis on ancestral relics. Whatever their precise date, these human bones could have been amongst the most potent objects to be deposited, with considerable symbolic and emotional connotations (e.g. Hill & Hageman, 2016; Nilsson Stutz, 2020).

A few valued ornaments also referenced missing bodies and more visible display in the lived-in world, at the same time as appealing aesthetically to the underworld’s inhabitants. A small twisted ornament of shining bronze (perhaps a child’s ring) (Figure 3(1b)), a fragment of a bronze fibula and a (now lost) small, disc-shaped bead of colourful vitreous paste recall examples from other settlements and caves in the region (Martínez Perona, 1992, p. 269).

At Sapo, ritual deposits have been excavated in three slightly different spaces: two towards the end of the (northeast) corridor (situated to the right of the vertical cave entrance), and one just inside the left (southwest) portal (see plan in Figure 8).

According to the currently available data, the area richest in archaeological objects, and also reused across the most periods, lies at the end of the northeast corridor, where the space opens up slightly, allowing up to four or five people to stand in a circle, in a humid, cold, and weakly illuminated other-worldly environment (Figure 8(8.1)). Radiocarbon determinations combined with ceramic typo-chronology are revealing that this space was repeatedly visited over a long period of time, between the Chalcolithic and Middle Ages, but also that the main period of deposition was the Iberian Iron Age, between the fifth and second centuries BC (Machause et al., 2014). This reuse, and recent illicit excavations, have led to mixing of the upper 2 m of deposits.

A total of 75 disarticulated fragments of human bone were found here, including elements from an adult man and an adult woman (MNI). Interestingly, the remains of the woman, radiocarbon dated to c. 390‒200 cal BC (2σ),^[4] were not burnt. As in Merinel, this mortuary treatment contrasts with the common Iberian Iron Age rite of adult cremation and urnfield burial, and aligns closer to the treatment of anomalous members of society, represented by newborn infants buried under the house floors and skulls exhibited (perhaps as war trophies) in northeast Spain and southeast France (e.g. Oliver, 2004; Roure & Pernet, 2011). This unusual mortuary behaviour in a cave context adds to our appreciation of the diversity of mortuary rites performed in the Iberian Iron Age and to the distinctive symbolic significance of this particular cave space. This is, especially, interesting in the Edeta area as known mortuary contexts are very scarce here compared, for example, to the cemeteries in the southeastern part of the Iberian Peninsula.

Over 20 times as many pieces of animal bones (4,392) were recovered (from the 1983 excavation alone) and more pieces have been recovered in recent excavations. The most common species are red deer, followed by ovicaprids, and then a few dogs (Figure 3(2a)). Although this faunal assemblage may be multi-period, it is worth noting that, in contrast to Iron Age assemblages from settlement sites, wild species are more frequent and whole bodies more clearly represented at Sapo (by fuller representation of skeletal parts, and fewer signs of human modification through cutting, fire and fragmentation) (Machause & Sanchis, 2015). A practical and symbolic emphasis on hunting and herding make sense in this upland context, but, as sacrificial offerings, we should also think about the physical effort of carrying these carcasses, or part of them, down to the bottom of the cave and of the environmental impact of their subsequent decomposition.

About a third less (around 1,035) Iron Age ceramic fragments were found in this space (during the 1983 excavation) and more sherds of the same type have been found in recent excavations. They include seven large and heavy jars (Figure 3(2c)) and one amphora, which required at least two people to carry them (perhaps using a support structure), whereas food preparation vessels are represented by a mortar and five cooking jars, and serving vessels by nine plates and bowls and a calyx. These vessels are similar in form to those made and used at contemporary settlement and ritual sites, but are less varied and carry more decoration, which may reflect a degree of selection made at the start of the ritual journey. Ongoing residue analysis will help to determine if these vessels contained offerings of food and drink.

As at Merinel, a few bronze ornaments (described as a fibula and one small applique) added to the symbolic value of the ritual deposit, together with some fragments of iron (representing a ferrule, a spear, and a possible chisel; Figure 3(2b)).

A more spatially and materially circumscribed space was marked by a crack in the wall situated 13 m back up the corridor. First-time visitors to the cave do not notice the opening of this crack because of their focus on reaching the end of the corridor and because its base lies above the eye-line, 2.5 m above the present-day floor (Figure 8 (8.2 and 8.3)). It is, then, a relatively hidden space. Most people, however, need help to climb up into it and to avoid immediately falling back out, before standing in it one foot in front of the other, with one’s torso slightly twisted. It is certainly a very intimate space, where the body moulds to the unyielding affordances of the cave rock, in a bodily position that soon becomes uncomfortable, aurally disorienting (the voices of people back in the adjacent corridor cannot be heard clearly), and enigmatic (air flowing in from the interior of the crack hints at the possibility of it ultimately connecting to the outside). A decorated sherd of Iberian Iron Age pottery was recovered here, as well as some charcoal, which might have come from a flaming torch in whose light the crack and corridor would have become visible.

Sapo cave’s third deposit is somewhat contrasting and also more difficult to interpret. It lies in the opposite direction to the northeast corridor and is accessed by crouching down to pass through a low and narrow triangular portal (maximum 1.3 m high, 1.5 m wide, and 2.5 m deep; Figure 8(7.3)). This opens up into a slightly wider space (2.15 wide and 4.6 m high) that turns out to be the start (or end) of a dark corridor, which slopes upwards for around 8 m (unlikely to be a second cave entrance) but which is today blocked by a rock fall (Figure 8(7.1 and 7.2)). The space is dimly illuminated by light entering via the portal and an adjacent small hole. The shallow deposits found here in 1983 had been disturbed by illegal excavations. They contained only a tenth of the number (110) of pottery sherds found at the end of the first corridor, including fragments of a plate and an amphora that actually re-fit with pieces found in that space, which raises the possibility that they might have been abandoned here by clandestine diggers in recent times.

4.9 Ritual Endings

To achieve the required impact on chthonic and human participants, the end of each ritual performance in the caves is likely to have been marked. One way to do this might have been for a person, maybe an experienced ritual leader, to re-order the materials in the sacred spaces, leaving the majority as sacrifices, but potentially also setting aside some for re-use during the next performance and others as ritually charged mementoes to be taken away. The under-representation of post-cranial body parts in the Merinel faunal assemblage offers a hint of the latter, as does the discovery of a fragment of stalactite at the Iberian Iron Age settlement of La Bastida de les Alcusses (Moixent, València) (Fletcher, Pla, & Alcácer, 1965, p. 211). Another approach, for which there is good archaeological evidence, especially in Merinel (e.g. charcoal and partly burnt bones), was to set fire to the offerings, in a spectacular finale of crackling flames, blazing light, heat, and choking smoke. This practice could have echoed contemporary mortuary rites of cremation. It also left little alternative but to leave the cave as quickly as possible (Figures 6(9) and 8(9)).

4.10 Exiting

The caves are likely to have been exited in an orderly fashion, both for safety reasons and to maintain the ritual process. The participants, having been separated by the confined innermost spaces, and due to the unfamiliarity of some of them with the layout of the caves, would have needed to regroup, prior to making their way back towards and out of the small cave entrances, one by one (Figures 6(10.1–10.3) and 8(10.1 and 10.2)). Some features of the caves would have been noticed for the first time, such as the shape of the doorways seen from the inside, through which light from outside now guides you back and draws you through (Figures 6(9) and 8(9 and 10.1)). Despite differences in cave environments, which can shade or highlight contrasts between being inside and outside, the sensation of leaving the cave is always perceptible, for example, through light, colours, vista, air quality, temperature, posture, and emotional release.

4.11 Moving Away

These marked contrasts are followed, outside and moving away from the cave entrances, by a progressive experience and emotional state of transition to being out in the open, alive to a familiar yet appreciable environment. In practice, larger groups re-connect and relax, either just outside the cave or in a more convenient area, depending on the precise configuration of the terrain. At Sapo, the process is relatively brief, with familiarity, the warmth of the sun and the panoramic view of the land and sea rediscovered immediately at the top of the vertical entrance hole. At Merinel, in contrast, the sloping ground and sensation of being boxed in encourage visitors to keep moving: climbing first down the ravine and then, having crossed the stream, up the opposite steep slope, to eventually reach (after some 20 min) the rim of high ground that affords an immense view out across the landscape and a chance to catch one’s breath (Figure 9(11)). Before moving away, an exchange of impressions might take place (among performers, but also between performers and the people who stayed outside the cave). However, some information might have been kept secret. Moving on, participants would then have continued towards their homes, now visible again in the distance during any remaining daylight hours. (These observations assume Edeta and its environs to be “home”; different scenarios can be envisaged if, for example, the caves were visited from the neighbouring territory of La Carència to the South.) People often look back, at this point, to check that everyone is safely accounted for and to take a last look at the cave where the ritual has just been performed.

Figure 6

Experiential stages in Cueva Merinel (human scale: 1.90 m): entering (5.1–5.3), just inside (6), moving inside (7.1–7.5), performing in the sacred spaces (8.1–8.2), ritual endings (9), and exiting (10.1–10.3), with location plan (ritual deposit area highlighted in colour, based on Martínez Perona, 1992, Figure 1).

Figure 7

Access analysis for Cueva Merinel (1) and Cueva del Sapo (2).

Figure 8

Experiential stages in Cueva del Sapo (human scale: 1.90 m): entering (5), just inside (6), moving inside (7.1–7.4), performing in the sacred spaces (8.1–8.3), ritual endings (9), and exiting (10.1–10.2), with 3D model profile (Global Mediterránea & Geomática) and location plan (ritual deposit area highlighted in colour).

Figure 9

Moving away (11) and descending (12) from Cueva Merinel (left) and Cueva del Sapo (right) (human scale: 1.90 m), with specific locations in the landscape (3D view) and orientation of the picture.

4.12 The Descent

The descent presents people with the simple new objective of getting home (Figure 9(12)). The way back tends to be easier, faster, and less consciously examined, with the route clearer to navigate and physical burdens lighter to carry (the bulk of them having been offloaded in the cave). This stage of the ritual process might have become reflectively inward and quiet, filled with thoughts from the experiences performed and experienced inside the cave, perhaps accompanied by a feeling of emotional release. All this, and the fact that you are pointed in the opposite direction, can open you up to appreciating new aspects of the landscape (although other feelings, such as heat, fatigue, and hunger, can get in the way).

4.13 Returning Home

The final stage of the ritual journey culminated in homecoming but still involved a number of significant processes (Coleman & Elsner, 1995, p. 6). The group would have retraced their steps, back across the river Turia and the domestic landscape of Edeta, rediscovering familiar places and people along the way, but perhaps stopping before finally re-entering their daily lives and spaces (see Figures 1 and 2). In the same way that we consider converging paths from potentially multiple starting points, we can imagine here participants gradually dispersing to their respective dwelling places and families, in the case of larger, composite, groups. Here, they may have shared some immediate memories of their experiences and any souvenirs brought back, which captured the essence of the ritual experiences lived (Mazumbar & Mazumbar, 2004, p. 394), with initial excitement giving way to tiredness. Our travellers would then have resumed their daily lives, but in a changed state (varying from subtle to an overtly new social status) as a consequence of their rite of passage, equipped with new knowledge, experience, memories, and expectations. After due consideration, some of them would repeat the process, eventually leading the way (see Figure 4).