Castles are epitomes of History. They are almost eternal, defying the ravages of centuries, standing tall and seemingly timeless.
Seemingly.
For castles are ephemeral. Fleeting. More like a dandelion puffball than a slab of granite.
From Die Ehre dess Hertzogthums Crain by Janez Vajkard Valvasor, 1689.
This is the story of two of them. One a castle proper, a Medieval fortress; the other an exquisite manor, an intricate Baroque masterpiece.
It is a sad story.
The first castle, castrum Moevntz or Unec, was built in the High Medieval Period, probably in the 11th century. The Counts of Gorizia put it on the top of the hill guarding a crossroads of two very important routes, one from the Adriatic sea through Postojna to Ljubljana and onwards to Central Europe (the “karst” or “mast” road), the other – the “Patriarch” road – connecting the Partiarchy in Aquileia with their properties in the Lower Carniola via Cerknica and Bloke plateau.
That castle got nearly destroyed by the great Idrija fault earthquake of 1511, and it didn’t last for more than a hundred years more. In 1614 (or thereabouts) the Egger family built a new castle a bit lower on the hill, on a plateau above the floodplain of the Unica river and near the powerful cave spring of Škratovka.
The Eggers sold this castle to the Cobenzl family in the early 17th century and as the times were changing, the Cobenzls remodelled it in the fashion of the day – the Baroque style.
It was designed by Carlo Martinuzzi himself, praeceptis architecturae optima imbutus – a man, imbued with the best principles of architecture, as it was said about him – and the Cobenzls, and later the House of Windischgrätz, enjoyed it immensely.
It was, for what it’s worth, the most exquisite Baroque manor in the lands that are now Slovenia.
But manors, as castles, are ephemeral.
The Partisans burned Haasberg manor down in 1944, during World War II.
The official line is clear and straightforward. The manor was a German army base, a prison for the members of the resistance, a headquarters of the Gestapo – a valuable and legitimate military target.
The hushed-up line is about personal vendettas, a drunken rage, a destruction for the sake of destruction – and about enrichment.
There are stories of looting and stealing, of lying and cover-ups. The Windischgrätzes were immensely rich, the treasures of Hasasberg were said to include a Rubens, a Titian, a Duerer … priceless old books and engravings … horses and carriages … luxurious clothes … jewelry, diamonds, gold, wads of money …
In any case, what was left of Haasberg manor were just crumbling, mouldering walls. The roof was gone and Nature took over. the intricate Park behind the Manor grew wild, and went into the Manor – as, in earlier times, the nobles from the Manor had gone freely into the Park.
After the war, protecting or renovating the manor was not really a priority for the new government. It was, after all, a symbol of the parasite class, of the enemies of the peasants and the workers, of all the immoral excesses of the past that was finally destroyed in the glorious revolution. Manors were simply not needed anymore in this Brave New World.
The whispers added that the ones who got rich by all the looting – there were the rich and the powerful in Socialism too! – blocked any attempt of clearing up the history, as a thorough restoration of the manor would inevitably start posing questions regarding the whereabouts of all the lost treasures.
Those who were in charge of the cultural heritage were thus limited to measuring the ruins, to feeble attempts of preserving them, and to presenting ever more ludicrous ideas of how the restoration should be done and how much good it would bring to the place.
And the walls kept crumbling.
The last hit came from Petrinja in Croatia, the epicentre of a powerful earthquake in 2020 that destroyed a couple more walls of the manor. The whole structure is now completely unstable, and the only way to come close to the ruins is – with a kite.
It was a nice Autumn day – ok, the light wasn’t at its best – and the wind was blowing from that rare correct direction, so se decided to give Haasberg manor another try.
What’s left of Haasberg is tucked in the southern corner of Planina polje, under the Stari grad hill. The geography makes it terribly difficult for a nice kite aerial photography session; a kite can only rise above the ruins if the wind is blowing from one particular direction, which it rarely does, and the turbulence threatens to crash the kite into the tall trees all around.
We had two kites in the air, and the plan was to keep one on this side of the ruins, and to let the other fly far over them to take photos of the other side.
The kites did their job valiantly, braving the turbulences and getting into the desired place, but a stupid error while setting the AutoKAP system (that slowly rotates the camera in order to shoot the manor from all angles) prevented the Rokkaku from taking the photos of the other side.
That was a reminder of a wild KAP session we did exactly seven years before, with a small Canon camera on a barely functioning picavet, flying in terrible wind and managing to get only one semi-acceptable photo of the ruins.
It shows how the crumbling advanced, how the Time doesn’t care, how ephemeral the castles and the manors are …
But despite all this, it was a beautiful Autumn day.
The Old Castle hill was covered in yellows and browns and reds …
The Unica river kept meandering across the green Planina polje …
The waters were high, but the regular Autumn floods haven’t started yet.
The almost 250 years old bridge still carries the traffic on the Patriarch road …
And Haasberg manor still crumbles, its building stones falling in the whirlwind of Time like dandelion seeds from the puffball …
Kite aerial photos shot with Insta 360 on Cindy delta kite, and with Nikon P330 on The Original Blue rokkaku kite, both made by master kitemaker Janez of Dr.Agon kites.
Another wonderful example of the important documentary contribution that KAP = Kite Aerial Photography can make.
Outstanding work!
Thank you, Wolfgang! 😉