THE IDENTIFICATION OF ABYSSAPOLIS
We now pursued our way along the coast-line of Dhofar in an easterly
direction. Wali Suleiman entertained us for a night at a farm he had
built at a place called Rizat, the land around which is watered by an
abundant stream. His garden was rich in many kinds of fruits, and on our
arrival, hot and weary from the road, he spread a carpet for us under the
shade of a mulberry tree while our camp was pitched, and ordered a slave
to pick us a dishful of the fruit, which was exceedingly refreshing.
Besides these he provided us with papayas, gourds, vegetables, and all
sorts of delicacies to which we had been strangers during our wanderings
in the Gara mountains. In this genial retreat Wali Suleiman passed much
of his time, leaving behind him at Al Hafa the cares of state and the
everlasting bickerings in his harem.
The next morning, refreshed and supplied with the requisites for another
journey, we started off again in our easterly course towards Takha, the
most important village at the east end of the plain of Dhofar. As we rode
across the plain we were perpetually harassed by the thought as to where
the excellent harbour could be, which is mentioned by all ancient writers
as frequented by the frankincense merchants, and which modern writers,
such as Dr. Glaser and Sir E. H. Bunbury, agree in considering to be some
little way west of Merbat. Yakut tells us how the ancient ships on their
way to and from India tarried there during the monsoons, and he further
tells us that it was twenty parasangs east of the capital. The 'Periplus'
speaks of it as Moscha, Ptolemy as Abyssapolis, and the Arabs as Merbat;
but as there is no harbourage actually at Merbat, it clearly could not be
there. So as we went along we pondered on this question, and wondered if
this celebrated harbour was, after all, a myth.
It was a most uninteresting ride along this coast: flat, and for the most
part barren, broken here and there by lagoons of brackish and
evil-smelling water and mangrove swamps. On the way we saw antelopes and
foxes with white bushy tails. One night we encamped by one of these river
beds on slightly rising ground, and were devoured by mosquitoes, and so
pestilent are these insects here that they not only attacked us, but
tormented our camels to such a degree that they were constantly jumping
up in the night and making such hideous demonstrations of their
discomfort that our rest was considerably interfered with.
When we reached Takha, after a ride of fifteen miles, we found ourselves
once more amongst a heap, or rather two heaps, of Sabæan ruins, which had
not been so much disturbed by subsequent occupants as those at the
capital, but at the same time they were not nearly so fine, and the
columns were mostly undecorated. There were also some very rough
sarcophagi.
The wali of Takha received us well, and placed his house at our disposal,
but it was so dirty we elected to pitch our tents, and encamped some
little distance from the village. On the following morning the wali sent
us with a guide to inspect some ruins round the neighbouring headland
which forms one end of the bay, of which Ras Risout is the other. The
rock of which it is composed is white in all the sheltered parts and
where the path is polished, and nearly black in the exposed parts. When
we reached the other side of this promontory, to our amazement we saw
before us a long sheet of water, stretching nearly two miles inland,
broken by many little creeks, and in some parts fully half a mile wide.
This sheet of water, which is called Kho Rouri, had been silted up at its
mouth by a sandbank, over which the sea could only make its way at high
tide, and the same belt of sand separated from it a fortified rock,
Khatiya by name, which must formerly have been an island protecting the
double entrance to what once must have been an excellent harbour, and
which could be again restored to its former condition by an outlay of
very little capital and labour. We were the more amazed at coming across
this sheet of water, as it is not marked in the Admiralty chart.
Surely there can be no doubt that this is the harbour which was anciently
used by the merchants who came to this coast for frankincense. It would
be absolutely secure at all seasons of the year, and it is just twenty
parasangs from the ruins of the ancient capital--exactly where it ought
to be, in fact--and probably the Arabs called it Merbat, a name which has
been retained in the modern village on the sheltering headland, where we
landed when we first reached Dhofar. As for the name Moscha--given in the
'Periplus'--it is like Mocha, a name given to several bays on the Arabian
coast, and I think we discovered why Ptolemy called it Abyssapolis, as I
will presently explain. We ascended the rock at the entrance, took a
photograph of the sheet of water, and felt that we had at last succeeded
in reconstructing the geography of this interesting bit of country.
I hear that the Egyptologists are in search of a harbour to which the
expedition to the land of Punt was made under the enterprising Queen
Hatasou. Some imagine that this coast of Arabia was the destination of
this expedition, and I herewith call their attention to this spot, for I
know of none other more likely on the barren, harbourless coast
between Aden and Maskat. If we take the illustration of this expedition
given in the temple of Deir al Bahari, we have, to begin with, the
frankincense trees, the long straight line of water running inland, the
cattle and the birds; then the huts which the Bedouin build on tall
poles, approached by ladders, from which they can inspect the produce of
their land and drive off marauders, look exactly like those thereon
depicted. All that we want are the apes, which certainly do not now exist
in the Gara mountains, but it is just the spot where one would expect to
find them; and in a district where the human race has been reduced to the
smallest point, there is no reason why the kindred race of apes should
not have disappeared altogether. Apes still exist near Aden.
[Illustration: THE ABYSS OF ABYSSAPOLIS, DHOFAR]
We had great difficulty in getting the camels to face the water and carry
us to the peninsula, the water being half-way up their sides. On climbing
up we saw columns lying about, and there had been a wall all round the
summit. It had originally been built in courses with roughly squared
stones, as we could see near the doorway, but the present wall is of
ordinary broken stones.
Leaving the harbour behind us we again approached the mountains, and,
after journeying inland for about eight miles, we found the valley
leading up to the mountains choked up by a most remarkable formation
caused by the calcareous deposit of ages from a series of streams which
precipitate themselves over a stupendous wall in feathery waterfalls.
This abyss is perfectly sheer, and hung in fantastic confusion with
stalactites. At its middle it is 550 feet in depth, and its greatest
length is about a mile. It is quite one of the most magnificent natural
phenomena I have ever seen, and suggestive of comparison with the
calcareous deposits in New Zealand and Yellowstone Park; and to those who
visited this harbour in ancient days it must have been a familiar
object, so no wonder that when they went home and talked about it, the
town near it was called the City of the Abyss, and Ptolemy, as was his
wont, gave the spot a fresh appellative, just as he called the capital
the Oracle of Artemis.
About a quarter of a mile from the western side of the whole abyss is a
small conical mountain, about 1,000 feet high, which looks as if it had
once stood free but were now nearly smothered by the petrifaction of the
overflowing water. It rises above the level top of the cliffs, and has
about a quarter of a mile of abyss on one side, which is only 300 feet in
depth, and half a mile on the other. It is all wooded. The larger side
and the upper plain is called Derbat, and the smaller Merbat or Mergà.
The three days we spent in exploring the neighbourhood of this abyss were
the brightest and pleasantest of all during this expedition. Our camp was
pitched under shady trees about half a mile from the foot of the abyss,
whither we could wander and repose under the shade of enormous plantains
which grew around the watercourse, and listen to the splashing of the
stream as it was precipitated over the rock to irrigate the ground below,
where the Bedouin had nice little gardens in which the vegetation was
profuse. One day we spent in photography and sketching, wandering about
the foot of the rocky wall; and another day, starting early in the
morning, with one camel to carry our things, we set off to climb the hill
by a tortuous path under shady trees which conducted us along the side of
the hill, and got lovely glimpses of the abyss on both sides through the
branches.
On reaching the summit we found ourselves on an extensive and
well-timbered flat meadow, along which we walked for a mile or so. It was
covered with cattle belonging to the Bedouin grazing on its rich
pasturage. It seemed like the place Jack reached when he had climbed up
the beanstalk. At length we came to two lovely narrow lakes, joined
together by a rapid meandering stream, delicious spots to look upon, with
well-wooded hills on either side, and a wealth of timber in every
direction. We lunched and took our midday siesta under a wide-spreading
sycamore by the stream, after walking up alongside the lakes for nearly
two miles; fat milch cows, not unlike our own, were feeding by the
rushing stream; birds of all descriptions filled the branches of the
trees, water-hens and herons and ducks were in abundance on one of the
lakes, bulrushes and water-weeds grew in them; it would be an ideal
little spot in any country, but in Arabia it was a marvel. The trees were
loaded with climbing cactus and a large purple convolvulus with great
round leaves.
We wanted to get some water-plants, easily to be obtained if anyone would
have entered the lake in which they grew, but the jinni or ghinni who
lives there (our old friend the Genius of the 'Arabian Nights') was so
dangerous that the plants had to be hooked out with sticks and branches
tied to strings. Sheikh Sehel maintains that he has seen ghinni in that
neighbourhood.
This wide-spreading meadow can be watered at will by damming up the
streams which lead the water from the lakes to the abyss, and in a large
cave near the edge of the precipice dwells a family of pastoral Bedouin
who own this happy valley; before leaving the higher level we went to the
edge and peered over into the hollow below, where, far beneath us, was
our camping ground among the trees, and in the sun's rays the waterfall
over the white cliff gave out beautiful rainbows. We had to cross much
swampy ground, and got our feet wet, without catching the inevitable
fever.
Imam Sharif camped away from us one night and found that the streams
which feed them have their source up in the limestone, about two days'
journey from them. The Bedouin are exceedingly proud of them, and in the
absence of much water in their country they naturally look upon them with
almost superstitious awe and veneration. Perhaps in Scotland one might be
more inclined to call them mountain tarns, for neither of them is more
than a mile in length, and in parts they are very narrow; yet they are
deep, and, as the people at Al Hafa proudly told us, you could float
thereon any steamer you liked, which may or may not be true, but their
existence in a country like Arabia is, after all, their chief cause for
renown. This really is Arabia Felix.
If ever this tract of country comes into the hands of a civilised nation,
it will be capable of great and useful development. Supposing the harbour
restored to receive ships of moderate size, the Gara hills, rich in grass
and vegetation, with an ample supply of water and regular rains, and,
furthermore, with a most delicious and health-giving air, might be of
inestimable value as a granary and a health resort for the inhabitants of
the burnt-up centres of Arabian commerce, Aden and Maskat. It is, as I
have said, about half way between them, and it is the only fertile
stretch of coast-line along that arid frontage of the Arabian Peninsula
on to the Indian Ocean.
Every November a fair or gala is held up here by the side of the lakes,
to which all the Bedouin of the Gara tribe come and make merry, and the
fair of Derbat is considered by them the great festival of the year. A
round rock was shown us on which the chief magician sits to exorcise the
jinni of the lakes, and around him the people dance. There is doubtless
some religious purport connected with all this, but, as I have said
before, it is extremely difficult to get anything out of the Bedouin
about their religious opinions; like the Bedouin of the Hadhramout, they
do not observe the prayers and ablutions inculcated by the Mohammedan
creed, and the Arabs speak of them as heathen, but beyond this we could
not find out much. Their language, too, is different from anything we had
heard before. They can understand and converse in Arabic after a fashion,
but when speaking amongst themselves none of our party, Arab or European,
could make out anything they said, and from such simple words as we were
able to learn--such, for example, as _ouft_ for _wadi_, a valley, _shur_
instead of _yom_ for day, and _kho_ instead of _nahr_ for a river--we
were led to believe that they speak an entirely different language, and
not a dialect as in the Hadhramout.
As we passed through the hay, the Gara had gathered up a lot of it in
sacks, which they put under the camels' loads by day and used as beds by
night, and between times applied to quite a different purpose. One of
these sacks was used as a combined dish and strainer when they boiled
their rice. The rice was turned out of the pot, and as soon as the cook
had scraped it all out with his hands they sat round, and fed themselves
with handfuls of it.
After another day, spent over sketching, photography, and measurements,
we felt we had thoroughly explored the neighbourhood of the abyss, so we
started back to Al Hafa to prepare for our departure from Dhofar.
It took us three days to get there. We stayed a night on the way on some
high ground above one of the swamps, and on the second day stopped to
visit Hamran, or Hameroun, where the wali had built a small fort and a
farm, which supplied him when at Rizat with butter, vegetables and fruit.
He also grew tobacco there.
We found ourselves once more in our old quarters in the castle, where
many fleas had been born in our absence, while the flies and mosquitoes
were not diminished. The wali had more prisoners. We again visited Robat
and the other ruins.
The interests which centred in this small district--the ancient sites,
the abyss, and, above all, the surprising fertility of the valleys and
mountains, the delicious health-giving air, and the immunity from actual
danger which we had enjoyed--combined in making us feel that our sojourn
in Dhofar had been one of the most enjoyable and productive of any
expedition we had hitherto undertaken, and that we had discovered a real
Paradise in the wilderness, which will be a rich prize for the civilised
nation which is enterprising enough to appropriate it.