MOUNT HAGHIER AND FEREGHET
After leaving our camp at Saihon we took a path in a south-westerly
direction, and after a few days of somewhat monotonous travelling we came
again into the deeper valleys and finer scenery of the central districts
of the island. Through them we made our way in the direction of Mount
Haghier.
Sokotra without Mount Haghier would be like a body without a soul. The
great mass of mountains which occupies the centre of the island rises in
many jagged and stupendous peaks to the height of nearly 5,000 feet. At
all seasons of the year it catches the fugitive sea mists which so rarely
visit the Arabian coasts, and down its sides flow sparkling streams and
bubbling cascades. The Ghebel Bit Molek (a name which, by the way, sounds
as if it had an Assyrian origin) is the highest peak. It is very sheer
and unapproachable at its summit, and though only 4,900 feet high will
give trouble to the adventurous crag-climber who is bent on conquering
it. Then there are the Driat peaks, the Adouna peaks, and many others
piercing the sky like needles, around which wild goats and civet cats
roam, but no other big game.
In the lower ground are found quantities of wild donkeys, which, the
Bedouin complained, were in the habit of trampling upon and killing their
goats. Whether these donkeys are naturally wild or descendants of escaped
tamed ones I am unable to say. Some are dark and some are white, and
their skins seemed to be more glossy than those of the domestic moke. The
Bedouin like to catch them if they can, with the hope of taming them for
domestic use.
[Illustration: VEGETATION IN SOKOTRA]
The glory of Mount Haghier is undoubtedly its dragon's-blood tree
(_Dracænia cinnabari_), found scattered at an elevation of about 1,000
feet and upwards over the greater part of Sokotra. Certainly it is the
quaintest tree imaginable, from 20 feet to 30 feet high, exactly like a
green umbrella which is just in the process of being blown inside out, I
thought. One of our party thought them like huge green toadstools,
another like trees made for a child's Noah's Ark. The gum was called
_kinnàbare_, but the Arab name is _kàtir_. The Sokoteri name is _edah_.
It is a great pity that the Sokotrans of to-day do not make more use of
the rich ruby-red gum which issues from its bark when punctured, and
which produces a valuable resin, now used as varnish; but the tree is now
found in more enterprising countries--in Sumatra, in South America, and
elsewhere. So the export of dragon's blood from its own ancient home is
now practically _nil_.
If the dragon's-blood tree, with its close-set, radiating branches and
stiff, aloe-like leaves, is quaint--and some might be inclined to say
ugly--it has, nevertheless, its economic use; but not so its still
quainter comrade on the slopes of Mount Haghier, the gouty,
swollen-stemmed _Adenium_. This, I think, is the ugliest tree in
creation, with one of the most beautiful of flowers: it looks like one of
the first efforts of Dame Nature in tree-making, happily abandoned by her
for more graceful shapes and forms. The swollen and twisted contortions
of its trunk recall with a shudder those miserable sufferers from
elephantiasis; its leaves are stiff and formal, and they usually drop
off, as if ashamed of themselves, before the lovely flower, like a
rich-coloured, large oleander blossom, comes out. The adenium bears some
slight resemblance, on a small scale, to the unsightly baobab-tree of
Africa, though it tapers much more rapidly, and looks as if it belonged
to a different epoch of creation to our own trees at home.
Then there is the cucumber-tree, another hideous-stemmed tree, swollen
and whitish; and the hill-slopes covered with this look as if they had
been decorated with so many huge composite candles which had guttered
horribly. At the top of the candle are a few short branches, on which
grow a few stiff crinkly leaves and small yellow flowers, which produce
the edible fruit. This tree, in Sokoteri _kamhàn_, the _Dendrosicyos
Socotrana_ of the botanist, is like the language of the Bedouin, found
only on Sokotra, and is seldom more than 10 or 12 feet in height. It is a
favourite perch for three or four of the white vultures which swarm in
the island, and the picture formed by these ungainly birds on the top of
this ungainly tree is an odd one.
To the south of Mount Haghier one comes across valleys entirely full of
frankincense-trees, with rich red leaves, like autumn tints, and clusters
of blood-red flowers. No one touches the trees here, and this natural
product of the island is now absolutely ignored. Then there are the
myrrhs, also ignored, and other gum-producing plants; and the gnarled
tamarinds, affording lovely shade, and the fruit of which the natives,
oddly enough, do know the value of, and make a cooling drink therewith.
Then there are the tree-euphorbias, which look as if they were trying to
mimic the dragon's blood, the branches of which the natives throw into
the lagoons so that the fish may be killed, and the poisonous milky juice
of which they rub on the bottoms of their canoes to prevent leakage.
Such are among the oddest to look upon of Sokotra's vegetable
productions. Wild oranges, too, are found on Mount Haghier, of a very
rich yellow when ripe, but bitter as gall to eat; and the wild
pomegranate, with its lovely red flowers and small yellow fruit, the
flannelly coating of which only is eaten, instead of the seeds, as is the
case with the cultivated one.
The vegetable world is indeed richly represented in this remote island,
and one could not help thinking what possibilities it would offer for the
cultivation of lucrative plants, such as tobacco, which is now grown by
the natives in small quantities, as is also cotton; and perhaps coffee
and tea would thrive on the higher elevations.
The Bedouin would bring us aloes both in leaf and in solution, in hopes
that we might take a fancy to this venerable Sokotran production. Now a
very little of it is collected, and everybody takes what he likes from
the nearest source, whereas, I believe, in former times, when aloes were
an object of commerce here, the plantations were strictly divided off by
walls, and the owners jealously looked after their property.
The way the aloe-juice is collected is this. As the Abyssinians do when
they are going to wash clothes the aloe-gatherers dig a hole in the
ground and line it with a skin. Then they pile old leaves, points
outward, all round till the pressure makes the juice exude. This at first
is called _taïf diho_, or _riho_, both of the latter words used for
water, though the former is the most usual. It is left till it is firmer
and drier, and this takes about a month. Then it is called _taïf
geshisha_. When it has dried for about six weeks it is nearly hard, and
called _taïf kasahal_. It is exported in skins. The collection of
dragon's blood is carried on just like that of the mastic in Chios. The
drops are knocked off into bags. The drops which come off unbroken are
the most valued, and called _edah amsello_. Then the nice, clean, broken
bits are picked out, and called _edah dakkah_; the refuse, with bits of
dirt, bark, and leaves stuck in it, _edah_. This is made up into cakes
with a little resin and sold very cheap.
My husband as usual made a botanical collection, and I believe it
contained a few novelties; but for further particulars on the flora of
Sokotra and the trees thereof I must refer you to Professor Bailey
Balfour's very huge and equally interesting book. We were so fortunate as
to have it with us, and it added much to our pleasure.
Our way was over broken ground, with little of interest save the lovely
views over mountain and gorge and the many dragon, frankincense, and
myrrh trees, past an open space in which is the village of Jahaida, where
the inhabitants had cultivated some little fields, to Röshi, where there
was no village but a good deal of water. We encamped in a cattle-pen, the
camel-men making themselves a capital house with floors, walls, and sides
of the thick mats of the camels. These mats are really like hard
mattresses, nearly 1 inch thick, and very stiff, about 1 yard long by 2
feet wide.
We always tried to encamp in a field if we could, as then we were sure of
some earth for the tent-pegs. After three days, during which I do not
think our guides knew their way very well, we went over a steep pass, up
and down, into the deep valley of Es'hab. We had wandered about a good
deal backwards and forwards over stony wolds, and the men all disagreed
as to the direction, and we had scrambled up a valley off our road to see
some supposed inscriptions, a much more dangerous place than the Kadhoup
road.
The Es'hab valley, with its rich red stone dotted with green and its
weird trees, forms an admirable foreground to the blue pinnacles of
Haghier--tropical and Alpine at the same time.
The climbing was most tremendous, up first and then down very steeply,
all over large sharp loose stones, till we reached the water, the
camel-men leaning backwards holding their camels by their tails with
all their might by way of putting on the drag. When we reached the valley
we gladly mounted our camels, and squeezed through woods, and often were
nearly torn off. We encamped in a sweet place, with a stream and shade
and a most fragrant carpet of basil, some of which we had in our soup,
and some of which was carried on for future use. We found the management
of our milk-tins rather difficult. We often had to resort to them, for,
surrounded though we were by herds of cattle, the supply of fresh milk
was very irregular: sometimes we could have more than we wanted and at
others none at all. It is pretty dear, too, in Sokotra, as so much is
used up for the _ghi_.
[Illustration: THE BREAKWATER AT FEREGHET]
On January 17 we forced our way on through more woods, the peak of Toff
seeming to fill up the end of the valley, to the Wadi Dishel, and crossed
over to the Wadi Dikadik, where we settled near a wide river in a
beautiful grassy spot, with many trees entwined with monkey-ropes,
rejoicing that on the following day we should reach Fereghe, or Fereghet,
where we intended to rest some time. We had heard from Ammar a delightful
description of it, and as we have so often been disappointed under such
circumstances we said we would take all possible enjoyment out of the
pleasures of hope beforehand. But really this time we had everything we
expected, including a wide rocky river, enabling us to bathe, develop
photographs, and set up a laundry.
Fereghet was, in fact, a most charming spot. Here our tents were pitched
beneath wide-spreading tamarinds, and we could walk in shade for a
considerable distance under these gigantic old trees. Fereghet, moreover,
was the site of an ancient ruined town which interested us exceedingly:
walls, 8 to 10 feet thick, had been constructed out of very large unhewn
boulders externally, filled with rubble, to check the torrent, which in
the rainy season rushes down here carrying all before it to the sea.
These walls, showing much skill in keeping a straight line, are clearly
the work of an age long gone by, when weight-moving was better understood
than it is at present, and doubtless the ruins of Fereghet may be traced
back to the days when Sokotra was resorted to for its gums. The fine old
tamarind-trees had done much to destroy the colossal wall, only about 100
feet of which now remains, still about 5 feet high; but there are many
other traces of ruins and a small fort of later date. It is likely enough
that Fereghet was a great centre of the trade of the island, for
frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood grow copiously around, and the
position under the slopes of Haghier, and almost in the middle of the
island, was suitable for such a town.
We opened a tomb not very far from Fereghet with a great block of stone
over it, 6 feet long by 3 feet thick; but the ill-conditioned relatives
of the deceased had placed nothing therein save the corpse; and we were
annoyed not to find any trace of inscriptions near this ruined town,
which might have thrown some light on the subject. All I feel sure of is
that the Portuguese did not build this town, as it is commonly asserted.
In fact we did not see any building on the island which can definitely be
ascribed to that nation.
Below Fereghet the valley gets broader and runs straight down to the sea
at the south of the island, where the streams from Mount Haghier all lose
themselves in a vast plain of sand called Noget, which we could see from
the mountains up which we climbed.
This is the widest point of the island of Sokotra, and it is really only
thirty-six miles between the ocean at Tamarida and the ocean at Noget,
but the intervention of Mount Haghier and its ramifications make it
appear a very long way indeed.
The island to the east and to the west of its great mountain very soon
loses its fantastic scenery and its ample supply of water. The most
remarkable peak we could see from Fereghet was Adouna. The topmost point
of this mountain is split. We saw this clearly afterwards, when we
continued our journey up the valley, but from Fereghet, I found it out by
seeing a small cloud passing through it. To look at the mountains you
would think they were made of black stone with a few patches of red
lichen, but really these patches of red are the natural rock showing
amongst the fine black lichen which covers the mountains.
The channels of the water in the river-bed are shown by this blackness,
and the water looks like an inky stream.
Beyond Fereghet we were near a river the water of which was very low. The
main bed of the water-channel was all black, and above this was a coat of
white over the blackened stones, and as the remaining pools were all
white, I suppose that some white tributary continues flowing later than
the black stream.
The few Bedouin who live round Fereghet were in constant contact with our
camp, as you will understand when you know that our tent was pitched
exactly on their high road--a little narrow path. They behaved most
kindly in going aside. The women used to bring us aloe plants just torn
up, and seemed much disappointed at finding that we did not find any use
for them.
We heard from them that there is only one leper on the island and he
lives alone in the hills.
Our sheltering tamarind-trees, wide-spreading and gnarled, abounded in
doves; some were small ones like ours, and some of the parrot kind, whose
cawing was far from sedative. We enjoyed wandering in the shade of the
fig-trees, wild and unprofitable, the date and other trees. Around us
stood the relics of a bygone race of men, who had ill-naturedly left us
no inscriptions on stone, and no clue to tell us who they were.
Mountains hemmed us in on every side, and any little wind was very
refreshing, for we were only about 400 feet above the sea-level, and
quite sheltered from our now only too-well-known north-east monsoon. On a
kind of promontory by a deep pool in the river is a building of stones
and mortar, later in style than the wall and equally inexplicable,
probably a fort.
It is impossible to describe the fantastic beauty of the delightful
Fereghet. We were quite sorry to leave it on January 24. We rode a little
way along the river, passing a single fan-palm-tree, very tall and bare,
and then had another great climb up and down. We passed a good many old
tombs, which had been opened. They were made of large slabs. We found one
in the evening not far from our camp, so we opened it the following
morning before starting. After a great deal of trouble with the pickaxes
and crowbar nothing was found but bones. We measured the top stone, 6
feet 5 inches by 2 feet 10 inches and 1 foot 5 inches thick.
We next scrambled up a wooded mountain, steep enough, but nothing to the
downward scramble. There was no particular road: one had to stick one's
heels into trailing masses of sharp chips and blocks of red stone and let
them slide as short a way as they would. The booted portion of our party
began to feel great anxiety as to foot-gear. We wondered if our boots
could possibly last to Tamarida where we had left a good deal of baggage,
_i.e._ clothes that we had needed on the steamer. We used to apply the
gums of various trees to the soles and toes to retard consumption. The
camels sat down and slid, or looked as if they were doing so; the
camel-men, holding the tails, nearly lay on their backs; but we reached
the river safely, encamped there, and rode most of next day up a valley,
crossing the water often. We had to wind in and out of clumps of trees,
sometimes lying on our camels to get under branches, and finally,
after going through thick woods, stopped at the foot of some mighty
mountains.
Though many of our camps on Mount Haghier and the expeditions therefrom
were very delightful, I think this one, called Yehazahaz, was decidedly
the prettiest. It was low down on the southern slope of Mount Haghier;
our tents were pitched in a grove of palm-trees at the meeting of two
rushing streams; tangled vegetation hung around us on every side, and
whichever way we looked we had glimpses of granite peaks and rugged
hill-sides clad with dragon's-blood. The village was quite hidden by
trees and creepers, but its inhabitants were away on the higher
pasturage, and our men occupied the empty tenements.
[Illustration: DRAGON'S-BLOOD TREES AT YEHAZAHAZ]
We stayed there a couple of days, and the first evening as we were
sitting in our tent after tea, a tremendous noise and shouting proceeded
from the direction of our kitchen. This proved to be occasioned by the
discovery of some long-suspected sugar thieves. They were the three
youngest of our camel-drivers. They were all tied to a palm-tree with
their arms round it, and Ammar began scourging them with a rope. I begged
them off; my husband thought I had been foolish, particularly as the
scourging had not been ordered by him. The boys certainly did not seem to
mind it a bit. However, the elder men consulted and Ammar brought a rupee
next morning as a fine, which my husband thought it right to accept.
The red mountains here assume a greyish-white appearance. The land shells
seemed to grow larger on the tops of the mountains. We found some about 3
inches in length.
On leaving Yehazahaz there was no riding for us, but a climb afoot
straight up a steep pass and down across a river and over a second pass.
The way was mostly rough and through woods, but there were a few little
grassy bits. We descended only about 100 feet and pitched our tents on a
flattish, spongy piece of grass, near a pretty streamlet overhung with
begonias and many other flowers, at a spot called Adahan, where a sort of
pass winds its way between the granite peaks. We were encamped for
several days at an elevation of close on 3,000 feet above the sea-level.
Here, when the mist came down upon us, we were enveloped in clouds, rain,
and wretchedness; but the air to us was cool and invigorating, though I
fear our scantily clad attendants found it anything but agreeable.
There were drawbacks, too, to the enjoyment of our mountain camps in the
shape of several kinds of pernicious grasses, which grew thickly round
our tent, and the seeds of which penetrated relentlessly into everything.
Grass thorns invaded our day and night raiment, getting into places
hitherto deemed impregnable, and the prickly sensation caused by them was
irritating to both body and mind.
From Adahan one could easily ascend to the highest ground; though perhaps
one ought not to say easily, for climbing is no joke up here, through
dense vegetation and rocky gullies. Looking down into the gorges, we
enjoyed some splendid effects, and were constantly reminded of the Grand
Corral of Madeira.
There were many trees and flowering shrubs, rocky needles, and pinnacles
all around us, and a view of the ocean to the north; and by climbing up
we could catch sight of the ocean to southward too.
My husband tried to ascend the highest peak in the island--Driate it is
called by the Bedouin--but when he had gone as far as possible the peak
soared above him about 400 feet sheer and impracticable, quite bare of
vegetation. An Alpine Club would find plenty of amusement in Sokotra. The
bottoms and sides of the valleys, filled with bulbous plants and rank
vegetation, enormous dragon's-blood-trees, the long valleys of Fereghet
and Yehazahaz winding their way to the coast, the rugged mass of Bit
Molek, and the view over both seas make, my husband said, as interesting
a natural view as it is possible to conceive. The clouds had fortunately
rolled themselves up for the occasion.
We had, however, during our stay so much wet that we had a special fire
to dine by, and by it a very rudely constructed clothes-horse to dry our
dripping garments. Our kitchen fire was the constant resort of the
Bedouin of the neighbourhood, coming to see us and bring provisions to
sell. We had plenty of milk and one day bought a tiny calf for three
rupees. The camel-men who skinned it tried to keep the head as their
perquisite, but Matthaios secured it and put it in our soup. To our
surprise the two Somali servants, Hashi and Mahmoud, would in consequence
eat none of the soup nor any meat. They usually ate anything that was
going.
A lame Bedou brought us some green oranges and potatoes, which were
really the roots of a convolvulus: they were not bad when baked in the
ashes, but hard when boiled. He also brought us a sweet herb which they
use to stuff pillows with. The greetings of the Bedou always amuse us;
they first put cheek to cheek and then rub noses in the most
matter-of-fact way, so we may infer that this mode of salutation is in
vogue in the Mahra country. It was pleasant to be among such friendly
people, who had no horror of us and did not even seem much surprised at
seeing us there, and to be able to go off quite alone for a scramble so
safely.