The Heart of Asia Minor.
Scenery of the Hills--Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea--The Plague of
Gad-Flies--Camp at Ilgün--A Natural Warm Bath--The Gad-Flies Again--A
Summer Landscape--Ak-Sheher--The Base of Sultan Dagh--The Fountain of
Midas--A Drowsy Journey--The Town of Bolawadün.
"By the forests, lakes, and fountains,
Though the many-folded mountains." Shelley.
Bolawadün, _July_ 1, 1852.
Our men brought all the beasts into the court-yard of the khan at Konia,
the evening before our departure, so that no more were stolen during the
night. The oda-bashi, indefatigable to the last in his attention to us,
not only helped load the mules, but accompanied us some distance on our
way. All the merchants in the khan collected in the gallery to see us
start, and we made our exit in some state. The morning was clear, fresh,
and delightful. Turning away from the city walls, we soon emerged from the
lines of fruit-trees and interminable fields of tomb-stones, and came out
upon the great bare plain of Karamania. A ride of three hours brought us
to a long, sloping hill, which gave us a view of the whole plain, and its
circuit of mountains. A dark line in the distance marked the gardens of
Konia. On the right, near the centre of the plain, the lake, now
contracted to very narrow limits, glimmered in the sun. Notwithstanding
the waste and unfertile appearance of the country, the soft, sweet sky
that hangs over it, the pure, transparent air, the grand sweep of the
plain, and the varied forms of the different mountain chains that
encompass it, make our journey an inspiring one. A descent of the hills
soon shut out the view; and the rest of the day's journey lay among them,
skirting the eastern base of Allah Dagh.
The country improved in character, as we advanced. The bottoms of the dry
glens were covered with wheat, and shrubbery began to make its appearance
on the mountain-sides In the afternoon, we crossed a watershed, dividing
Karamania from the great central plain of Asia Minor, and descended to a
village called Ladik, occupying the site of the ancient Laodicea, at the
foot of Allah Dagh. The plain upon which we came was greener and more
flourishing than that we had left. Trees were scattered here and there in
clumps, and the grassy wastes, stretching beyond the grain-fields, were
dotted with herds of cattle. Emir Dagh stood in the north-west, blue and
distant, while, towards the north and north-east, the plain extended to
the horizon--a horizon fifty miles distant--without a break. In that
direction lay the great salt lake of Yüzler, and the strings of camels we
met on the road, laden with salt, were returning from it. Ladik is
surrounded with poppy-fields, brilliant with white and purple blossoms.
When the petals have fallen, the natives go carefully over the whole field
and make incisions in every stalk, whence the opium exudes.
We pitched our tent under a large walnut tree, which we found standing in
a deserted inclosure. The graveyard of the village is studded with relics
of the ancient town. There are pillars, cornices, entablatures, jambs,
altars, mullions and sculptured tablets, all of white marble, and many of
them in an excellent state of preservation. They appear to date from the
early time of the Lower Empire, and the cross has not yet been effaced
from some which serve as head-stones for the True Believers. I was
particularly struck with the abundance of altars, some of which contained
entire and legible inscriptions. In the town there is the same abundance
of ruins. The lid of a sarcophagus, formed of a single block of marble,
now serves as a water-trough, and the fountain is constructed of ancient
tablets. The town stands on a mound which appears to be composed entirely
of the debris of the former place, and near the summit there are many
holes which the inhabitants have dug in their search for rings, seals and
other relics.
The next day we made a journey of nine hours over a hilly country lying
between the ranges of Allah Dagh and Emir Dagh. There were wells of
excellent water along the road, at intervals of an hour or two. The day
was excessively hot and sultry during the noon hours, and the flies were
so bad as to give great inconvenience to our horses. The animal I bestrode
kicked so incessantly that I could scarcely keep my seat. His belly was
swollen and covered with clotted blood, from their bites. The hadji's mule
began to show symptoms of illness, and we had great difficulty in keeping
it on its legs. Mr. Harrison bled it in the mouth, as a last resource, and
during the afternoon it partly recovered.
An hour before sunset we reached Ilgün, a town on the plain, at the foot
of one of the spurs of Emir Dagh. To the west of it there is a lake of
considerable size, which receives the streams that flow through the town
and water its fertile gardens. We passed through the town and pitched our
tent upon a beautiful grassy meadow. Our customary pipe of refreshment was
never more heartily enjoyed than at this place. Behind us was a barren
hill, at the foot of which was a natural hot bath, wherein a number of
women and children were amusing themselves. The afternoon heat had passed
away, the air was calm, sweet, and tempered with the freshness of coming
evening, and the long shadows of the hills, creeping over the meadows, had
almost reached the town. Beyond the line of sycamore, poplar and fig-trees
that shaded the gardens of Ilgün, rose the distant chain of Allah Dagh,
and in the pale-blue sky, not far above it, the dim face of the gibbous
moon showed like the ghost of a planet. Our horses were feeding on the
green meadow; an old Turk sat beside us, silent with fasting, and there
was no sound but the shouts of the children in the bath. Such hours as
these, after a day's journey made in the drowsy heat of an Eastern summer,
are indescribably grateful.
After the women had retired from the bath, we were allowed to enter. The
interior consisted of a single chamber, thirty feet high, vaulted and
almost dark. In the centre was a large basin of hot water, filled by four
streams which poured into it. A ledge ran around the sides, and niches in
the wall supplied places for our clothes. The bath-keeper furnished us
with towels, and we undressed and plunged in. The water was agreeably warm
(about 90°), had a sweet taste, and a very slight sulphury smell. The
vaulted hall redoubled the slightest noise, and a shaven Turk, who kept us
company, sang in his delight, that he might hear the echo of his own
voice. When we went back to the tent we found our visitor lying on the
ground, trying to stay his hunger. It was rather too bad in us to light
our pipes, make a sherbet and drink and smoke in his face, while we joked
him about the Ramazan; and he at last got up and walked off, the picture
of distress.
We made an early start the next morning, and rode on briskly over the
rolling, grassy hills. A beautiful lake, with an island in it, lay at the
foot of Emir Dagh. After two hours we reached a guard-house, where our
_teskerés_ were demanded, and the lazy guardsman invited us in to take
coffee, that he might establish a right to the backsheesh which he could
not demand. He had seen us afar off, and the coffee was smoking in the
_finjans_ when we arrived. The sun was already terribly hot, and the
large, green gad-flies came in such quantities that I seemed to be riding
in the midst of a swarm of bees. My horse suffered very much, and struck
out his hind feet so violently, in his endeavors to get rid of them, that
he racked every joint in my body. They were not content with sucking his
blood, but settling on the small segment of my calf, exposed between the
big Tartar boot and the flowing trowsers, bit through my stockings with
fierce bills. I killed hundreds of them, to no purpose, and at last, to
relieve my horse, tied a bunch of hawthorn to a string, by which I swung
it under his belly and against the inner side of his flanks. In this way I
gave him some relief--a service which he acknowledged by a grateful motion
of his head.
As we descended towards Ak-Sheher the country became exceedingly rich and
luxuriant. The range of Sultan Dagh (the Mountain of the Sultan) rose on
our left, its sides covered with a thick screen of shrubbery, and its
highest peak dotted with patches of snow; opposite, the lower range of
Emir Dagh (the Mountain of the Prince) lay blue and bare in the sun
shine. The base of Sultan Dagh was girdled with groves of fruit-trees,
stretching out in long lines on the plain, with fields of ripening wheat
between. In the distance the large lake of Ak-Sheher glittered in the sun.
Towards the north-west, the plain stretched away for fifty miles before
reaching the hills. It is evidently on a much lower level than the plain
of Konia; the heat was not only greater, but the season was further
advanced. Wheat was nearly ready for cutting, and the poppy-fields where,
the day previous, the men were making their first incisions for opium,
here had yielded their harvest and were fast ripening their seed.
Ak-Sheher is beautifully situated at the entrance of a deep gorge in the
mountains. It is so buried in its embowered gardens that little, except
the mosque, is seen as you approach it. It is a large place, and boasts a
fine mosque, but contains nothing worth seeing. The bazaar, after that of
Konia, was the largest we had seen since leaving Tarsus. The greater part
of the shopkeepers lay at full length, dozing, sleeping, or staying their
appetites till the sunset gun. We found some superb cherries, and plenty
of snow, which is brought down from the mountain. The natives were very
friendly and good-humored, but seemed surprised at Mr. Harrison tasting
the cherries, although I told them we were upon a journey. Our tent was
pitched under a splendid walnut tree, outside of the town. The green
mountain rose between us and the fading sunset, and the yellow moon was
hanging in the east, as we took our dinner at the tent-door. Turks were
riding homewards on donkeys, with loads of grass which they had been
cutting in the meadows. The gun was fired, and the shouts of the children
announced the close of the day's fast, while the sweet, melancholy voice
of a boy muezzin called us to sunset prayer, from the minaret.
Leaving Ak-Sheher this morning, we rode along the base of Sultan Dagh. The
plain which we overlooked was magnificent. The wilderness of shrubbery
which fringed the slopes of the mountain gave place to great orchards and
gardens, interspersed with fields of grain, which extended far out on the
plain, to the wild thickets and wastes of reeds surrounding the lake. The
sides of Sultan Dagh were terraced and cultivated wherever it was
practicable, and I saw some fields of wheat high up on the mountain. There
were many, people in the road or laboring in the fields; and during the
forenoon we passed several large villages. The country is more thickly
inhabited, and has a more thrifty and prosperous air than any part of Asia
Minor which I have seen. The people are better clad, have more open,
honest, cheerful and intelligent faces, and exhibit a genuine courtesy and
good-will in their demeanor towards us. I never felt more perfectly
secure, or more certain of being among people whom I could trust.
We passed under the summit of Sultan Dagh, which shone out so clear and
distinct in the morning sun, that I could scarcely realize its actual
height above the plain. From a tremendous gorge, cleft between the two
higher peaks, issued a large stream, which, divided into a hundred
channels, fertilizes a wide extent of plain. About two hours from
Ak-Sheher we passed a splendid fountain of crystal water, gushing up
beside the road. I believe it is the same called by some travellers the
Fountain of Midas, but am ignorant wherefore the name is given it. We rode
for several hours through a succession of grand, rich landscapes. A
smaller lake succeeded to that of Ak-Sheher, Emir Dagh rose higher in the
pale-blue sky, and Sultan Dagh showed other peaks, broken and striped with
snow; but around us were the same glorious orchards and gardens, the same
golden-green wheat and rustling phalanxes of poppies--armies of vegetable
Round-heads, beside the bristling and bearded Cavaliers. The sun was
intensely hot during the afternoon, as we crossed the plain, and I became
so drowsed that it required an agony of exertion to keep from tumbling off
my horse. We here left the great post-road to Constantinople, and took a
less frequented track. The plain gradually became a meadow, covered with
shrub cypress, flags, reeds, and wild water-plants. There were vast wastes
of luxuriant grass, whereon thousands of black buffaloes were feeding. A
stone causeway, containing many elegant fragments of ancient sculpture,
extended across this part of the plain, but we took a summer path beside
it, through beds of iris in bloom--a fragile snowy blossom, with a lip of
the clearest golden hue. The causeway led to a bare salt plain, beyond
which we came to the town of Bolawadün, and terminated our day's journey
of forty miles.
Bolawadün is a collection of mud houses, about a mile long, situated on an
eminence at the western base of Emir Dagh. I went into the bazaar, which
was a small place, and not very well supplied, though, as it was near
sunset, there was quite a crowd of people, and the bakers were shovelling
out their fresh bread at a brisk rate. Every one took me for a good
Egyptian Mohammedan, and I was jostled right and left among the turbans,
in a manner that certainly would not have happened me had I not also worn
one. Mr. H., who had fallen behind the caravan, came up after we had
encamped, and might have wandered a long time without finding us, but for
the good-natured efforts of the inhabitants to set him aright. This
evening he knocked over a hedgehog, mistaking it for a cat. The poor
creature was severely hurt, and its sobs of distress, precisely like those
of a little child, were to painful to hear, that we were obliged to have
it removed from the vicinity of the tent.