Departure from Birjand--A cloud like a skeleton hand--A
downpour--The village of Muht--A ruined fortress--A beautiful
sunset--A pass--Besieged by native callers--Two towers at
Golandeh--Strayed--Curious pits--Sahlabad--The impression of a
foreign bed--Fujiama's twin.
A large and most respectful crowd collected in and out of the
caravanserai to watch the departure of my caravan at five o'clock in the
evening on November 27th. We were soon out of Birjand and, steering a
south-easterly course, passed one or two large mud enclosures with a few
fruit-trees, but otherwise there was hardly any vegetation visible
anywhere--even in the immediate neighbourhood of Birjand. Everything was
as barren as barren could be.
Overhead the sky after sunset was most peculiarly marked by a weird,
black, skeleton-like hand of perfect but gigantic proportions, spreading
its long bony fingers over us. As night came on, it grew very cold and
the skeleton hand of mist compressed itself into a nasty black cloud. A
few minutes later a regular downpour drenched us to the skin and the
camels experienced great difficulty in walking on the slippery mud.
This was the first rain we had seen, or rather felt, since leaving
Teheran. Our long-unused macintoshes had been applied to such usages as
wrapping up cases of photographic plates and enveloping notebooks, so
that we could not very well get at them, now that we needed them, without
taking all the loads down. So we went on until our clothes were perfectly
saturated, when at least we had the satisfaction of knowing that we could
not get wetter than we were.
The rain came down in bucketfuls for over an hour, then luckily stopped,
and in a few moments, with a howling wind rising, the sky was clear again
and the myriads of stars shone bright like so many diamonds. The cutting
wind and our wet clothes made this march rather a chilly one, although
one felt some relief at the sensation of moisture after so many months of
intense dryness.
There was nothing whatever to see on any side, and I have never thanked
my stars so much as when, after marching thirteen hours, we reached the
village of Muht, a place of fair size in a picturesque little valley with
nice hills on all sides.
To the north-east of the village was an interesting demolished fortress
standing on a low hill. It had a very deep well in the centre within its
walls, which were of stone, with twelve turrets round it. At the foot of
the hill was a _haoz_, or water tank, now dry, which the natives said was
very ancient and which they attributed to the Hindoos. To the west a
lake was said to exist called Kiemarakalah, by the side of a mountain
not unlike a Swiss roof in shape; while to the north-east of the fortress
were rugged rocks and low sand-hills. The elevation of this village was
6,520 feet.
We left Muht at noon of the same day and passed a small village on our
way, then we gradually ascended to a pass 7,050 feet high, on the other
side of which was a plain--green not from vegetation, but because the
clayish soil was of that colour--with hills to the east and west.
It was hardly possible to imagine more dreary, desolate scenery than that
through which we were going. There was not a living soul beyond ourselves
anywhere in sight. The camels, which had caught cold in the shower of the
previous night, had to be given a rest, and we halted again after a five
hours' march. The cold was intense. Whether owing to the moisture in the
atmosphere, or to some other cause, we had on the evening of the 28th a
really beautiful sunset. The sky was dazzling with brilliant gold and
vermilion tints.
At midnight we were again under way, first across flat, then over
undulating country, after which we got among the mountains and between
precipitous gorges. This was quite a welcome change, but not for the
camels, the way being somewhat rough and stony.
We had some little difficulty in going up the steep pass, 7,200 feet, the
camels panting terribly. We suffered from the cold and the heavy dew
which positively drenched men, camels, and baggage. It was quite as bad
as having been out in the rain, we were so soaked. I, unfortunately,
became ill again, fever attacking me afresh more fiercely than ever;
Sadek, too, and Abbas Ali, the camel man, were also taken very sick.
On the other side of the pass we went through a steep, narrow, and most
fantastically picturesque defile of rocks, and eventually passed the
little hamlet of Golandeh which boasts of no less than half-a-dozen mud
huts and as many fruit trees.
We had descended to precisely the altitude of Muht, or 6,520 feet. From
this village the Sistan track descends for a few hundred yards and then
proceeds in a south by south-east direction over a flat stretch with some
hills. A very high mountain could be seen to the south by south-west and
another quite pointed to the south by south-east (at 170° b.m.). To the
east-south-east some twenty miles from Muht, was another tiny hamlet
built against the foot of the mountain along which we had come. A large
plain opened before us to the south-west.
At Golandeh we were besieged by natives applying for medicine, as there
seemed to be hardly a soul in the place who was not affected by some
complaint or other. Affections of the eyes were most common. Those who
wanted no medicine begged for money or lumps of sugar,--which latter
there is apparently some difficulty in obtaining here and for which they
seemed to have a perfect craving. Men, women, and children implored to
be given some.
There were two towers at Golandeh, the lower one quadrangular in shape
and two-storied. The upper floor had recesses in all the rooms for
storing grain and provisions.
We left camp at 5.45 p.m. and all went well until about ten o'clock, when
Sadek took it into his head that we were travelling in the wrong
direction and proceeded to put us right, I being fast asleep on my camel.
The camel man, having never been on this route, did not know the way and
depended a great deal on the bearings I gave him daily by my compass.
When I awoke we had got sadly mixed up among big boulders and sharp
broken-up rocks, from which the camels had the greatest difficulty in
extricating themselves, and we wasted a good deal of time in helping the
animals to get on to better ground as they continually stumbled and fell
among the loose stones. The loads got undone several times and we were
all three so ill that we had not the strength to tie them up again
properly on the saddles.
In the course of time I put the party on the right track again, and for
more than one hour we went up and down steep but not high passes, through
defiles, and across a small stream. We were following the dry river-bed
among rocks in a gorge, and we arrived at a spot where there was a rock
barrier several feet high beneath us, which made it impossible for camels
to get down; so Abbas Ali was despatched to try and find an easier way
while Sadek and I were left to freeze in a cutting south-west wind.
The camel man returned and led the camels back a long distance until we
came to a faint track along a streamlet, which we tried to follow, but it
went along such precipitous places that we had to abandon it for fear the
camels, who could not get a proper foot-hold, might come to grief. In
Birjand I had only succeeded in obtaining just sufficient animals to
carry my loads, Sadek, and myself, and so was not very anxious to run the
risk of losing any and becoming stranded in such an inhospitable place.
We eventually contrived to take the camels down to the flat without any
serious mishaps, and wandered and wandered about and went over another
pass--my compass being all we had to go by.
Sadek, whose high fever had affected his vision, now swore that we were
going back towards Birjand instead of going on, and said he was certain
my compass was wrong; but I paid no heed to his remarks, and by carefully
steering our course with the compass--which involved a reckless waste of
matches owing to the high wind--I eventually got the party into the open,
upon a wide plain of sand and gravel. Here, having shown Abbas Ali the
right bearings to follow, I got upon my camel, again wrapped myself well
in my blankets and went fast asleep.
So unfortunately did Abbas Ali, who was tired out after his exertions
among the rocks, and at 3 a.m. I woke up to find the camels going as and
where they pleased, and the camel man, buried under his thick felt coat,
snoring so soundly upon his camel that it took a good deal of shouting to
wake him up. I had no idea where we had drifted while I had been asleep,
and the night being an unusually dark one we could not well see what was
ahead of us, so we decided to halt until sunrise.
[Illustration: In the Desert. (Tamarisks in the Foreground.)]
When it grew light in the morning I was much interested in some curious
circular and quadrangular pits only a few yards from where we had
stopped, which were used as shelters for men and sheep but were now
deserted. These pits were from four to six feet deep below the level of
the ground, and from ten to thirty feet in diameter (when circular), a
section being partitioned for sheep by a fence of thick but soft cane
that grows in the neighbourhood of water. In the part reserved for human
beings there was a circular fireplace of stones, and some holes in the
earth at the sides for storing foodstuff. The lower portion of the inside
wall all round the pit was of beaten earth up to a height of two feet,
above which a wall of stones carefully fitted one upon the other was
constructed from two to four feet high, up to the level of the earth.
Here a projecting screen of cane was erected all round at an angle
converging towards the centre of the pit, for the double purpose of
preventing the sheep escaping, and of sheltering the inmates during
the fearful sand and windstorms that sweep with great force along the
earth's surface. The entrance was cut on one side with an incline to
afford easy access to the pit.
At this particular place there were altogether some fifteen of these
pits, and in one of them we lighted a big fire with some shrubs we
collected, and rested for some three hours to give Sadek time to cook my
breakfast.
The difference in the temperature between the interior of these pits and
the open ground was extraordinary. They were comfortably warm, even when
it was unpleasantly cold as one peeped out of them.
While Sadek was busy with his culinary work, and the camel man chewed
dried pieces of bread and _keshk_ cheese, I proceeded to find our right
way. It lay about one mile to the east of the pits.
On resuming our march, five farsakhs (twenty miles) from Golandeh, we
reached Sahlabad, an unimportant village. South there was to be seen an
extensive white salt deposit, which at first had all the appearance of a
large lake, and a stream of salt water flowed across the large valley and
through the village from north-east to south-west.
To the east there was a long range of multi-coloured mountains, all with
high sand accumulations at their base; greys in several beautiful tones,
were prevalent, and there were stretches of black, brown, burnt sienna,
and a pale cadmium yellow. To the north-west, whence we had come, low
hills were visible, and to the south-west fairly high ones.
Sahlabad was a depressing place. The natives were in abject poverty and
their habitations dismal, to say the least. The huts were partly
underground, and the top aperture of the domed roof was screened by a
hood with an opening to the north-east. No firewood was obtainable at
this place, and the only water the natives had to drink was the salt
water from the stream. At Sahlabad we had descended to an elevation of
5,050 ft., which made a considerable change in the temperature.
We encountered here a large caravan in charge of Beluch drivers, and
among other curious articles one of the camels carried a beautiful new
enamelled iron bedstead. The reader may suppose that, after several
months of sleeping on the ground, I wished it had been mine,--but I did
not. On the contrary, I was particularly struck on that occasion by what
an elaborate, clumsy, useless thing it seemed, although, as bedsteads go,
it was one of the best!
To the south stood a high mountain, very closely resembling in shape the
world-renowned Fujiama of Japan, only this one had a somewhat wider
angle. Beyond the white expanse of salt to the south-east there was low,
flattish country, but to the west, north-west and south-west, rose fairly
high hills. The valley itself in which we were was some two and a half
miles broad, and covered with grey sand.
In the centre of the village in the neighbourhood of which we camped was
a tumbled-down circular tower, and an octangular tower in two tiers, also
partly ruined. The latter stood at the corner of an enclosure which at
one time must have been the beginning of the village wall.