Mischief at the Pillars of Hercules

I took this picture on the tippy top of the Rock Of Gibraltar on my iPhone 7 and then edited it in my Lightroom app (and yes, I am still using an iPhone 7). Way up here you'll find the Upper Rock Nature Reserve teaming with famed barbary macaques. More specifically, these monkeys live in and around Queen’s Gate, swinging, playing and causing utter mischief on these ancient stones that have been standing since 1540.

Far below the steep cliffs of this Rock lies a booming coastal port acting as a guardian between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. Gibraltar is a British territory that interacts with Spain so closely that people cross the border everyday by car to and from work. It is also the closest place in Europe to Africa. On a map it looks like Europe and Africa might just kiss. When you come in by boat through the Strait of Gibraltar you can see both continents to your starboard and port as well as the two traditional pillars of Hercules. One pillar being the famous Gibraltarian rock and the other is contested between Jebel Musa or Monte Hacho in Africa.

There are numerous legends surrounding these pillars. One states that instead of climbing a formidable mountain to get to his destination, Hercules smashed the mountain in two forming the Strait of Gibraltar and the two pillar mountains. Another, that past these gates you'll discover the lost city of Atlantis. In Renaissance lore, the pillars bore the warning “ne plus ultra” meaning “nothing further beyond” urging sailors to turn around or find themselves at the end of the world. Even in Dante’s Inferno, the Pillars of Hercules are said to be the gateway to Purgatory and shouldn’t be navigated alive.

The long-time residents of the Rock of Gibraltar are steeped in legend as well. The barbary macaques have been causing mischief long before the British captured Gibraltar in 1704. These monkeys are originally from Morocco but now are the only wild monkey population on the European continent. Most barbary macaque populations are decreasing but here, they are actually increasing. This may be because they are the biggest tourist attraction and the government takes very good care of them, feeding them fresh fruits and vegetables daily.

No one is quite sure how these curious monkeys came to be here. Some say the monkeys escaped ships transporting them from North Africa to Spain. Some say they are the last remnants of a population that spread through Southern Europe 5.5 million years ago. Another story states that the monkeys came via a subterranean passage through the labyrinth cave tunnels inside the Rock of Gibraltar from Morocco.

No matter how they got to Gibraltar, they are there to stay and have outlasted occupations, sieges and even World War II. Spanish historian Ignacio Lopez de Ayala even said about the monkeys in his “History of Gibraltar” written in 1782 that:

“Neither the incursions of Moor, the Spaniards nor the English, nor cannon nor bomb of either have been able to dislodge them.”

There’s even a popular legend that as long as these monkeys exist on Gibraltar, the territory will remain under British rule, so when the population dwindled to only seven in WW2, Winston Churchill ordered their numbers to be replenished immediately from the forests of Morocco and Algeria.

Now, you may be wondering: “But, Boo…how did you get this shot?” Well, that my friends, was quite the journey. An even longer trek, in fact, then the monkeys’ journey from Africa to Europe.

It all started in America. Ft. Lauderdale, Florida to be exact. I was working as a stewardess on an 80-meter super yacht (265 feet for all my Americans). We dropped our lines, reeled them in and were off on a 14-day journey across the Atlantic Ocean. Usually crossings only take about 11 days or so, but we encountered a storm mid-Atlantic and had to go four days around it. The sea churned so bad I threw up eight times in one day between vacuuming the crew mess and disinfecting crew day heads (or toilets for my non-sailors).

It was also my first Atlantic crossing so I had to endure the traditional Mid-Atlantic sailor’s ceremony presided by none other than King Neptune himself (aka the First Officer in a bed sheet toga). Basically, the yacht stops exactly in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean based on coordinates. The initiated crew “cross-dress” and myself and the other initiates succumb to all sorts of debauchery featuring slops left out to rot in the sun for a week. It’s covert and not pretty so that’s all I’ll say here, but what I will say is when we all saw land after 14 days, we were running to shore and I was introduced to my first taste of Gibraltar.

Gibraltar is a strange place. My British coworkers don’t claim it sovereign and joke that all the weirdo outcast British people live there. Most of the seasoned yachties weren’t interested in exploring at all as they come and go from this port twice a year before and after crossings to fuel up, but it was my first time and I was stoked to get off the damn boat.

A group of us newbies got a tour guide. He drove us up the mountain in a beaten down van with a jeweled Madonna hanging on the dash and had a strange Spanglish British accent called Gibraltarian English. The van squealed up the mountain in dead stop traffic, waiting in line to get to the monkey sanctuary at the top. The windows were down and we snapped pictures of the view below: a calm watered port stirred by the comings and goings of dozens of cargo ships. Our lonely white yacht home stuck out like a jewel.

Suddenly, a monkey crawled onto the ledge of the car's window sill and we all jumped. Our tour guide laughed and told us to hang on to our valuables because these guys liked to steal. The monkey looked us up and down, decided we were no fun and leaped back on the fence that acted as the only boundary between the road and a deadly tumble down the cliff. The monkey casually strolled to the next car then the next to see what he could get.

At the top of the mountain we got out of the car and a hoard of monkeys immediately came to see if we’d brought any goodies. Our guide handed us fruit to feed them and they aggressively jumped on our backs, shoulders and heads. I noticed a mother monkey feeding her small baby perched on the fence. She seemed above the shenanigans of the others, yet also seemed unphased of anyone getting near her child. I walked over and snapped the pictures you see above. Another monkey strolled over and perched beside her. I backed away at first, but then realized he was just as unphased as the mother and I took a few more shots.

The monkey family continued to chill on the ledge, completely unbothered by the number of people near. I went back over to my friends and laughed at the absurdity of it all. One monkey was sitting on the Second Officer’s shoulder gripping his blonde curls hard as he stuffed his face with food. Another was rummaging through the Fifth Stewardess’s book bag as she angrily tried to swat it away. My other coworkers were cackling and taking pictures until monkeys jumped on them too. It was chaos.

I thought I had gotten out of this monkey torture unscathed…until it happened. And let it be known far and near, that these next few pictures tell better than what I could put in words of what I actually went through to get the final shot. Behold:

Overall, I'd say it was quite an adventure. If you are ever in Gib, get yourself a guide to share this Rock's unique history, explore the famous caves and I can't stress this enough, be prepared to get jumped by mischievous barbary macaques.