CROSSING A LARGE MOUNTAIN RIDGE, AND ENTERING ON THE OPEN GRAVELLY DESERT.
On the morning of the 26th of July I once more found myself on the back
of my camel, and from my elevated seat threw a last glance over the
pleasant picture of the oasis of Ghát. There is an advanced spur of the
plantation about two miles south from the town, called Timéggawé, with
a few scattered cottages at its southern end. Having left this behind
us, we came to the considerable plantation of Íberké, separated into two
groups, one on the west, and the other on the east side, and kept along
the border of the western group, which forms dense clusters, while that
to the east is rather thin and loosely scattered. The town of Bárakat,
lying at the foot of a sandy eminence stretching north and south, became
now and then visible on our right, glittering through the thinner parts
of the plantation.
Being prepared for a good day’s march, as not only the Tinýlkum were
reported to have left Arikím several days ago, but as even the little
caravan of Kél-owí, with whom we had made arrangements for protection and
company on the road, was a considerable way in advance, we were greatly
astonished when ordered to encamp near the scattered palm-trees at the
extreme eastern end of the plantation. Utaeti, who had accompanied us all
the way from Ghát on foot, chose the camping-ground. Mr. Richardson, who
had been behind, was not less astonished when he found us encamped at so
early an hour. But our camels, which seemed to have been worked during
our stay at Ghát, instead of being allowed to recover their strength by
rest and pasture, were in great want of some good feeding, and there
was much aghúl (_Hedysarum Alhajji_) about our encampment. Towards noon
we were visited by several Hogár, or rather Azkár, who proved a little
troublesome, but not so much so as the townspeople, who caused us a great
deal of annoyance, both during the evening and on the following morning,
and gave us some idea of what might await us further on.
Being annoyed at our delay here, I accompanied two of Mr. Richardson’s
people and the young son of Yusuf Mukni, who wished to go into the town
to buy a fowl. We were followed by two men from among the townspeople,
who wanted to extort a present from me, and one of whom, by bawling
out the characteristic phrase of his creed, made me fear lest he might
succeed in exciting all the people against me. The town was distant
from our encampment a mile and a quarter; and having once reached its
wall, I determined to enter it. The town, or ágherim, forms a tolerably
regular quadrangle, on an open piece of ground at the eastern foot
of the sandy eminence, and is enclosed by a wall (agadór), built of
clay, about five-and-twenty feet high, and provided with quadrangular
towers. We entered it by the eastern gate, which, being defended by a
tower, has its entrance from the side, and leads first to a small court
with a well, from which another arched passage leads into the streets.
Here several women, of good figure and decently dressed, were seated
tranquilly, as it seemed, enjoying the cool air of the afternoon, for
they had no occupation, nor were they selling anything. Although I was
dressed in a common blue Sudán shirt, and tolerably sunburnt, my fairer
complexion seemed to alarm them, and some of them withdrew into the
interior of the houses crying “Lá ilah.” Still I was not molested nor
insulted by the people passing by, and I was pleased that several of
them courteously answered my salute. They were apparently not of pure
Berber blood. It appeared that a good many of the inhabitants had gone
to their date-groves to look after the harvest, as the fruit was just
about to ripen; hence the place, though in good repair and very clean,
had a rather solitary appearance. There is no commerce in this place
as in Ghát, the whole wealth of the inhabitants consisting in their
plantations. Yet they are said to be better off than the population
of Ghát, who are exposed to great and continual extortions from the
Tuarek on account of their origin, while the people of Bárakat enjoy
certain privileges. The houses were all two or three storeys high, and
well built, the clay being nicely polished. A few palm-trees decorate
the interior of the town. It is of still more diminutive size than
Ghát, containing about two hundred houses; but it is built with great
regularity. Having stuck fast awhile in a lane which had no thoroughfare,
we at length got safely out of the little town of Bárakat by the south
gate. It has, I believe, four gates, like Ghát. On this side of the
town, inside of the walls, stands the mosque, a building of considerable
size for so small a place, neatly whitewashed, and provided with a lofty
minaret.
Leaving the town, we took a more southern and circuitous road than that
by which we had come, so that I saw a good deal of the plantation. The
soil is for the most part impregnated with salt, and the wells have
generally brackish water. There was much industry to be seen, and most of
the gardens were well kept; but the wells might easily be more numerous,
and only a small quantity of corn is cultivated. The great extent to
which dukhn, or Guinea corn (“éneli” in Temáshight), or _Pennisetum
typhoïdeum_, is cultivated here, as well as near Ghát, in proportion
to wheat or barley, seems to indicate the closer and more intimate
connection of this region with Negroland. Some culinary vegetables also
were cultivated, and some, but not many, of the gardens were carefully
fenced with the leaves of the palm-tree. The grove was animated by
numbers of wild pigeons and turtle-doves, bending the branches of the
palm-trees with their wanton play; and a good many asses were to be seen.
Cattle I did not observe.
But far more interesting were the scenes of human life that met my
eyes. Happiness seemed to reign, with every necessary comfort, in
this delightful little grove. There was a great number of cottages,
or tekábber, built of palm-branches and palm-leaves, most of them of
considerable size, and containing several apartments; all of them had
flat roofs. They are inhabited by the Imghád, or Merátha. A great many
of the men seemed at present to be busy elsewhere; but these lightly
built, straggling suburbs were full of children, and almost every woman
carried an infant at her back. They were all black, but well formed,
and infinitely superior to the mixed race of Fezzán. The men wore in
general blue shirts, and a black shawl round the face; the women were
only dressed in the túrkedi, or Sudán-cloth, wound round their body, and
leaving the upper part, including the breasts, uncovered. They understood
generally nothing but Temáshight, and only a few of them spoke the Háusa
language. The men were nearly all smoking.
Having returned to our tent from this pleasant ramble, I did not stay
long in it, but stealing off as secretly as possible, I walked to the
eastern side of the valley, which is here locked up by the steep slope
of the Akakús range. The plain on this side, being much interrupted by
hills crowned with ethel-trees, does not afford a distant prospect. In
this quarter, too, there are a few scattered gardens, with melons and
vegetables, but no palm-trees.
In the evening we were greatly annoyed by some Imghád, and between one of
them and our fiery and inconsiderate Tunisian shushán a violent dispute
arose, which threatened to assume a very serious character. We were on
the watch the whole night.
Having waited a long time for Utaeti, we at length started without him,
passing on our right a beautiful palm-grove, with as many as ten thousand
trees, while our left was bordered by scattered gardens, where the
people were busy, in the cool of the morning, irrigating the corn and
vegetables, with the assistance of Sudán oxen. They came out to see us
pass by, but without expressing any feeling, hostile or otherwise. After
a mile and a half the plantation ceased, at the bed of a torrent which
contained a pond of rain-water collected from the higher rocky ground,
which here terminates. Further on we passed another small channel,
overgrown with bushes, and remarkable for nothing but its name, which
seems plainly to indicate that this country originally belonged to the
Góber or Háusa nation, for it is still called Korámma, a word which in
the Háusa language denotes the bed of a torrent. To this watercourse
particularly the general designation was most probably assigned, because
in its further progress it widens very considerably, and in some degree
appears as the head of the green bottom of the Valley of Ghát.
But a more luxuriant valley, from three to four miles broad, begins
further on, rich in herbage, and full of ethel-trees, all crowning the
tops of small mounds. Here we encamped, near a pond of dirty rain-water,
frequented by great flocks of doves and waterfowl, and a well called
Ízayen, in order to wait for Utaeti. The well was only about three feet
deep, but the water brackish and disagreeable. Our friend came at length,
and it was then decided to march during the night, in order to reach the
Kél-owí; we therefore left our pleasant camping-ground about half-past
nine in the evening, favoured by splendid moonlight. So interesting was
the scene that, absorbed in my thoughts, I got considerably in advance
of the caravan, and, not observing a small path which turned off on the
right, I followed the larger one till I became conscious of my solitary
situation, and, dismounting, lay down in order to await my companions.
Our caravan, however, had taken the other path, and my fellow-travellers
grew rather anxious about me; but my camel, which was evidently aware of
the caravan ahead of us, would not give up this direction, which proved
to be the right one, and after I had joined the caravan we were obliged
to return to my former path.
Here we found the small Kél-owí caravan encamped in the midst of a valley
well covered with herbage, near the well Karáda. Our new companions
were perfect specimens of the mixed Berber and Sudán blood, and,
notwithstanding all their faults, most useful as guides. It was two hours
after midnight when we arrived, and after a short repose we started again
tolerably early the next morning. For the first hour we kept along the
valley, when we began to ascend a narrow path winding round the slope of
a steep promontory of the plateau. The ruins of a castle at the bottom
of the valley formed an object of attraction. The ascent took us almost
an hour, when the defile opened to a sort of plateau, with higher ground
and cones to the left. After another ascent four miles further on, over
a rocky slope about 180 feet high and covered with sand, we encamped at
an early hour, as the heat was beginning to be felt, in a valley with
sidr-trees and grass, called Erázar-n-Ákeru.
A large basin of water, formed by the rains in a small rocky lateral
glen joining the large valley on the west side, afforded a delightful
resting-place to the weary traveller. The basin, in which the negro
slaves of our Kél-owí swam about with immense delight, was about 200
feet long and 120 feet broad, and very deep, having been hollowed out in
the rocks by the violent floods descending occasionally from the heights
above. But on a terrace about 200 feet higher up the cliffs I discovered
another basin, of not more than about half the diameter of the former,
but likewise of great depth. All along the rocky slope between these two
basins, cascades are formed during heavy rains, which must render this a
delightfully refreshing spot.
We soon emerged from the valley, and entered a district of very irregular
character, but affording herbage enough for temporary settlements or
encampments of the Imghád, whose asses and goats testified that the
country was not quite uninhabited. Some people of our caravan saw the
guardians of these animals—negroes, clad in leather aprons. Against the
lower part of the cliffs, which rise abruptly on all sides, large masses
of sand have accumulated, which, as in the case of the upper valley of
the Nile, might induce the observer to believe that all the higher level
was covered with sand, which from thence had been driven down; but this
is not by any means the case.
I had a long conversation this morning with the Tawáti ʿAbd el Káder,
who had come with the pilgrim-caravan as far as Ghát, and, together with
another companion, had attached himself to the Kél-owí, in order to
go to Ágades. He was a smart fellow, of light complexion and handsome
countenance, but had lost one eye in a quarrel. He was armed with a long
gun with a good English lock, of which he was very proud. He had, when
young, seen the Raïs (Major Laing) at Tawát, and knew something about
Europeans, and chiefly Englishmen. Smart and active as this fellow was,
he was so ungallant as to oblige his young female slave, who was at once
his mistress, cook, and servant, to walk the whole day on foot, while he
generally rode. A little after noon we encamped in the corner of a valley
rich in sebót, and adorned with some talha-trees, at the foot of cliffs
of considerable height, which were to be ascended the following day.
We began our task early in the morning. The path, winding along through
loose blocks on a precipitous ascent, proved very difficult. Several
loads were thrown off the camels, and the boat several times came into
collision with the rocks, which, but for its excellent material, might
have damaged it considerably. The whole of the cliffs consisted of
red sandstone, which was now and then interrupted by clay slate, of
a greenish colour. The ascent took us almost two hours, and from the
level of the plateau we obtained a view of the ridge stretching towards
Arikím, the passage of which was said to be still more difficult.
Having successively ascended and descended a little, we then entered a
tolerably regular valley, and followed its windings till about noon,
when we once more emerged upon the rugged rocky level, where Amankay,
the well-travelled búzu or mulatto of Tasáwa, brought us a draught of
deliciously cool water, which he had found in a hollow in the rocks. Here
our route meandered in a very remarkable way, so that I could not lay
aside my compass for a moment; and the path was sometimes reduced to a
narrow crevice between curiously terraced buttresses of rocks.
The ground having at length become more open, we encamped about a quarter
past three o’clock, in a small ravine with a little sprinkling of herbage.
[Illustration]
Here we had reached an elevation of not less than four thousand feet
above the sea, the greatest elevation of the desert to be passed, or
rather of that part of Africa over which our travels extended. The rugged
and bristling nature of this elevated tract prevented our obtaining any
extensive views. This region, if it were not the wildest and most rugged
of the whole desert, limiting vegetation to only a few narrow crevices
and valleys, would be a very healthy and agreeable abode for man; but it
can only support a few nomadic stragglers. This, I am convinced, is the
famous mountain Tántanah, the abode of the Azkár mentioned by the early
Arabic geographers, although, instead of placing it to the south-west of
Fezzán, they generally give it a southerly direction. I am not aware that
a general name is now given to this region.
But this highest part of the tableland rather forms a narrow “col” or
crest, from which, on the following morning, after a winding march of a
little more than three miles, we began to descend by a most picturesque
passage into a deeper region. At first we saw nothing but high cones
towering over a hollow in the ground; but as we advanced along a lateral
wady of the valley which we had entered, the scenery assumed a grander
aspect, exhibiting features of such variety as we had not expected to
find in this desert country. While our camels began slowly to descend,
one by one, the difficult passage, I sat down and made the accompanying
sketch of it, which will convey a better idea of this abrupt cessation
of the high sandstone level, with the sloping strata of marl where it
is succeeded by another formation, that of granite, than any verbal
description would do.
[Illustration]
The descent took us two hours, when we reached the bottom of a narrow
ravine about sixty feet broad, which at first was strewn with large
blocks carried down by occasional floods, but a little further on had
a floor of fine sand and gravel. Here the valley is joined by a branch
wady, or another ravine, coming from the north. Near the junction
it is tolerably wide; but a few hundred yards further on it narrows
between steep precipitous cliffs, looking almost like walls erected by
the hand of man, and more than a thousand feet high, and forms there
a pond of rain-water. While I was sketching this remarkable place, I
lost the opportunity of climbing up the wild ravine. The locality was
so interesting that I reluctantly took leave of it, fully intending
to return the following day, with the camels, when they were to be
watered; but, unfortunately, the alarming news which reached us at our
camping-ground prevented my doing so. I will only observe that this
valley, which is generally called Égeri, is identical with the celebrated
valley Amaïs or Maïs, the name of which became known in Europe many years
ago.
A little beyond the junction of the branch ravine the valley widens to
about one hundred and fifty feet, and becomes overgrown with herbage,
and ornamented with a few talha-trees, and after being joined by another
ravine, exhibits also colocynths, and low but widespreading ethel-bushes,
and, what was more interesting to us, the ʿashur (or, as the Háusa people
call it, “tunfáfia,” the Kanori “krunka,” the Tuarek “tursha”), the
celebrated, widespread, and most important _Asclepias gigantea_, which
had here truly gigantic proportions, reaching to the height of twenty
feet; and being just then in flower, with its white and violet colours
it contributed much to the interest of the scene. Besides, there was
the jadaríyeh, well known to us from the Hammáda, and the shiʿa or
_Artemisia odoratissima_, and a blue crucifera identical, I think, with
the damankádda, of which I shall have to speak repeatedly. Having gone on
a little more than three miles from the watering-place, we encamped; and
the whole expedition found ample room under the widespreading branches
of a single ethel-tree, the largest we had yet seen. Here the valley was
about half a mile broad, and altogether had a very pleasant character.
I was greatly mortified on reflecting that the uncertainty of our
relations in the country, and the precarious protection we enjoyed, would
not allow me to visit Jánet, the most favoured spot in this mountainous
region; but a great danger was suddenly announced to us, which threatened
even to drive us from that attractive spot. An expedition had been
prepared against us by the mighty chieftain Sídi Jáfel ínek (son of)
Sakertáf, to whom a great number of the Imghád settled thereabouts are
subject as bondmen or serfs.
Upon the circumstances of this announcement and its consequences I shall
not dwell, but will only observe that this transaction made us better
acquainted with the character of each of our new friends. There were
three principal men in the Kél-owí caravan with which we had associated
our fortunes—Ánnur (or properly Eʾ Núr), Dídi, and Fárreji. Ánnur was a
relative of the powerful Kél-owí chief of the same name, and, in order to
distinguish him from the latter, was generally called Ánnur karamí, or
the little Ánnur. He was of agreeable, prepossessing countenance, and of
pleasing manners, but without much energy, and anything but warlike. Dídi
and Fárreji were both liberated slaves, but of very different appearance
and character. The former was slim, with marked features, indicating a
good deal of cunning; the latter was a tolerably large man, with broad,
coarse features, which well expressed his character, the distinguishing
trait of which was undisguised malice. When a new demand was to be put
forth Fárreji took the lead, and, with an impudent air, plainly state
the case; Dídi kept back, assisting his companion underhand; and Ánnur
was anxious to give to the whole a better appearance and to soothe our
indignation.
The whole affair having been arranged, and the stipulation being made
that in case the direct road should become impracticable our Kél-owí
were to lead us by a more eastern one, where we should not meet with any
one, we started in good spirits on the morning of the 1st of August, and
soon emerged from the valley by a southern branch, while the surrounding
cliffs gradually became much lower and flatter. Here we observed that
granite had superseded the sandstone, appearing first in low, bristled
ridges, crossing the bottom of the valley in parallel lines running from
west-north-west to east-south-east, and gradually accompanying the whole
district, while the sand, which before formed the general substance of
the lower ground, was succeeded by gravel. Our path now wound through
irregular defiles and small plains, enclosed by low ridges of granite
blocks, generally bare, but in some places adorned with talha-trees of
fine fresh foliage. The whole country assumed quite a different aspect.
[Illustration]
Our day’s journey was pleasantly varied by our meeting with the van of a
large caravan belonging to the wealthy Fezzáni merchant Khweldi, which
had separated in Aïr on account of the high prices of provisions there.
They carried with them from forty to fifty slaves, most of them females,
the greater part tolerably well made. Each of our Kél-owí produced from
his provision-bags a measure of dates, and threw them into a cloth,
which the leader of the caravan, a man of grave and honest countenance,
had spread on the ground. A little before noon, we encamped in a sort
of wide but shallow valley called Ejénjer, where, owing to the junction
of several smaller branch vales collecting the moisture of a large
district, a little sprinkling of herbage was produced, and a necessary
halting-place formed for the caravans coming from the north, before they
enter upon the naked desert, which stretches out towards the south-west
for several days’ journey. The camels were left grazing the whole night,
in order to pick up as large a provision as possible from the scanty
pasture.
_August 2._—We entered upon the first regular day’s march since we left
Ghát. After a stretch of nine miles, an interesting peak called Mount
Tiska, rising to an elevation of about six hundred feet, and surrounded
by some smaller cones, formed the conspicuous limit of the rocky ridges.
The country became entirely flat and level, but with a gradual ascent,
the whole ground being formed of coarse gravel; and there was nothing to
interrupt the monotonous plain but a steep ridge, called Mariaw, at the
distance of about five miles to the east.
The nature of this desert region is well understood by the nomadic
Tuarek or Imóshagh, who regard the Mariaw as the landmark of the open,
uninterrupted desert plain, the “ténere;” and a remarkable song of
theirs, which often raised the enthusiasm of our companions, begins thus:
“Mariaw da ténere nís” (We have reached Mariaw and the desert plain). The
aspect of this uninterrupted plain seemed to inspire our companions, and
with renewed energy we pursued our dreary path till after sunset, when we
encamped upon this bare gravelly plain, entirely destitute of herbage,
and without the smallest fragment of wood for fuel; and I was glad to get
a cup of tea with my cold supper of zummíta. Even in these hot regions
the European requires some warm food or beverage.
The next morning, all the people being eager to get away from this dreary
spot, every small party started as it got ready, without waiting for the
rest, in order to reach as soon as possible the region of the sand-hills,
which we saw before us at the distance of a little more than five miles,
and which promised to the famished camels at least a slight repast.
Herbage was scattered in bunches all about the sides of the sand-hills,
and a number of butter- and dragon-flies greatly relieved the dreary
scene. After a while the sand-hills ranged themselves more on both sides,
while our road led over harder sandy soil, till the highest range crossed
our path, and we began to ascend it, winding along its lower parts.
Granite, lying a few feet under the surface, in several spots chequered
the sand, tinged with a pretty blue.
A little after mid-day we emerged from the sand-hills, and entered a
plain from two to three miles wide, bounded on both sides by sand-hills,
and were here gratified with the view of shifting lakes which the mirage
set before our eyes. Then followed another narrow range of sand-hills,
succeeded by a barren open plain, and then another very considerable bank
of sand, leaning on a granite ridge. After a steep ascent of forty-five
minutes, we reached the highest crest, and obtained an extensive prospect
over the country before us—a desert plain, interspersed by smaller
sand-hills and naked ledges of rock, and speckled with ethel-bushes half
overwhelmed by sand, at the foot of a higher range of sand-hills. For
sand-hills are the landmark of Afalésselez, and the verse of the desert
song celebrating Mariaw as the landmark of the open gravelly desert
plain is succeeded by another, celebrating the arrival at Afalésselez
and its sand-hills: “In-Afalésselez da jéde nís.” Having long looked
down from this barbacan of sand, to see whether all was safe near that
important place whence we were to take our supply for the next stretch of
dry desert land, we descended along the south-western slope, and there
encamped.
After a march of little more than four miles the next morning, we reached
the well Falésselez, or Afalésselez. This camping-ground had not a bit of
shade, for the few ethel-bushes, all of them starting forth from mounds
of not less than forty feet elevation, were very low, and almost covered
with sand. Besides, the gravelly ground was covered with camels’ dung
and impurities of a more disagreeable nature, and there was not a bit
of herbage in the neighbourhood, so that the camels, after having been
watered, had to be driven to a distance of more than eight miles, where
they remained during the night and the following day till noon, and
whence they brought back a supply of herbage for the next night.
But, notwithstanding its extraordinary dreariness, this place is of the
greatest importance for the caravan trade, on account of the well, which
affords a good supply of very tolerable water. At first it was very dirty
and discoloured, but it gradually became clearer and had but little
after-taste. The well was five fathoms deep, and not more than a foot
and a half wide at the top, while lower down it widened considerably. It
is formed of the wood of the ethel-tree. The temperature of the water,
giving very nearly the mean temperature of the atmosphere in this region,
was 77°.
After the camels had gone, our encampment became very lonely and
desolate, and nothing was heard but the sound of ghussub-pounding. The
Kél-owí had encamped at some distance, on the slope of the sand-hills.
It was a very sultry day, the hottest day in this first part of our
journey, the thermometer, in the very best shade which we were able to
obtain, showing 111·2° heat, which, combined with the dreary monotony of
the place, was quite exhausting. There was not a breath of air in the
morning; nevertheless it was just here that we remarked the first signs
of our approaching the tropical regions, for in the afternoon the sky
became so thickly overcast with clouds that we entertained the hope of
being refreshed by a few drops of rain. In the night a heavy gale blew
from the east.
Next day came Utaeti. On his fine méheri, enveloped as he was in his blue
Sudán-cloth, he made a good figure. The reply which he made, when Mr.
Richardson asked him how his father had received the present of the sword
which H.B.M.’s Government had sent him, was characteristic: the sword,
he said, was a small present, and his father had expected to receive a
considerable sum of money into the bargain. He informed us also that, by
our not coming to Arikím, we had greatly disappointed the Tuarek settled
thereabouts.
_Tuesday, August 6._—The sand-hills which we ascended after starting
were not very high, but after a while we had to make another ascent.
Sometimes small ridges of quartzose sandstone, setting right across our
path, at others ethel-bushes, gave a little variety to the waste, and
at the distance of about eight miles from the well singularly shaped
conical mounts began to rise. The eastern road, which is a little more
circuitous, is but a few hours’ distance from this; it leads through
a valley at the foot of a high conical mount, with temporary ponds of
rain-water, and herbage called Shambakésa, which about noon we passed
at some distance on our left. In the afternoon we came in sight of a
continuous range of heights ahead of us. The whole region exhibited an
interesting intermixture of granite and sandstone formation, white and
red sandstone protruding in several places, and the ground being strewn
with fragments of granite and gneiss. Passing at one time over gravel,
at another over rocky ground strewn with pebbles, we encamped at length
in a sort of shallow valley called Taghárebén, on the north side of
a very remarkable mass of curiously shaped sandstone blocks, heaped
together in the most singular manner, and rising altogether to a height
of about one hundred and fifty feet. On inspecting it more closely, I
found that it consisted of four distinct buttresses, between which large
masses of loose sand had collected, the sandstone being of a beautiful
white colour, and in a state of the utmost disintegration.
After a weary day’s march, the camping-ground, adorned as it was with
some fine talha-trees, and surrounded with small ridges and detached
masses of rock, on which now depended the beauty of the scene, cheered
our minds, and fitted us for another long day’s work. Soon after we
started the ground became rugged and stony, and full of ridges of
sandstone, bristling with small points and peaks. In this wild and rugged
ground our people amused themselves and us with hunting down a lizard,
which tried to escape from the hands of its pursuers in the crevices of
the rocky buttresses. Then followed broad, shallow valleys, at times
overgrown with a little herbage, but generally very barren; winding along
them we turned round a larger cluster of heights which seemed to obstruct
our route. Bare and desolate as the country appears, it is covered, as
well as the whole centre of the desert, with large herds of wild oxen
(_Antilope bubalis_), which rove about at large, and, according as they
are more or less hunted, linger in favoured districts or change their
haunts. Our men tried to catch them, but were unsuccessful, the animal,
clumsy and sluggish as it appears, climbing the rocks with much more ease
than men unaccustomed to this sort of sport, and, owing to the ruggedness
of the ground, being soon lost sight of.
At five o’clock in the afternoon the heights on our left rose to a
greater elevation, as much as a thousand feet, bristling with cones, and
formed more picturesque masses. Resting on the spurs of the mountain
range was a peculiar knot of cliffs, ridges of rocks, and isolated
perpendicular pillars, through which our road led with a gradual
ascent till we reached the highest ground, and then descended into a
shallow valley furnished with a tolerable supply of herbage and a few
talha-trees, some of which, with their young leaves, soon attracted the
attention of the famished camels. The poor animals were left grazing all
night, which recruited their strength a little. These long stretches
were fatiguing both for man and beast, and they were the more trying for
the traveller as, instead of approaching by them in long strides the
wished-for regions to the south, there was scarcely any advance at all in
that direction, the whole route leading to the west.
_Thursday, August 8._—After a mile and a half’s march the country became
more open and free, and those ridges of granite rock which had been
characteristic of the region just passed over ceased; but ahead of us
considerable mountain masses were seen, the whole mountainous district,
in which the long range called Isétteti is conspicuous, being named
Ánahef. After a march of about ten miles, a path branched off from our
road towards the west, leading to a more favoured place, called Tádent,
where the moisture collected by the mountain masses around seems to
produce a richer vegetation, so that it is the constant residence of some
Azkár families; it is distant from this place about sixteen miles. Here
some advanced heights approach the path, and more talha-trees appear;
and further on the bottom of the fiumara was richly overgrown with bú
rékkebah (_Avena Forskalii_), grass very much liked by the camels, and
which we had not observed before on our route. The country ahead of us
formed a sort of defile, into which I thought we should soon enter, when
suddenly, behind the spur of a ridge projecting into the plain on our
left, we changed our direction, and entering a wide valley enclosed by
two picturesque ranges of rock, we there encamped.
The valley is called Nghákeli, and is remarkable as well on account of
its picturesque appearance as because it indicates the approach to a more
favoured region. Besides being richly overgrown with luxuriant herbage
of different species, as sebót, bú rékkebah, shiʿa, and adorned with
fine talha-trees, it exhibited the first specimens of the _Balanites
Ægyptiaca_ (or “hajilíj” as it is called by the Arabs, “áddwa” by the
Háusa people), the rope-like roots of which, loosened by the torrent
which at times sweeps along the valley, grew to an immense length over
the ground. I walked up the valley to a distance of two miles. Compared
with the arid country we had been travelling over latterly, it made upon
me just the same impression which the finest spots of Italy would produce
on a traveller visiting them from the north of Europe. The Kél-owí had
chosen the most shady talha-tree for a few hours’ repose, and I sat down
a moment in their company. They gave me a treat of their palatable fura,
or ghussub-water, the favourite (and in a great many cases the only) dish
of the Absenáwa.
In the evening Mr. Richardson bought from some sportsmen a quantity
of the meat of the wadán, or (as the Tuarek call it) aúdád (_Ovis
tragelaphos_), an animal very common in the mountainous districts of the
desert, and very often found in company with the wild ox. As for myself,
I kept my tent, filling up from my memorandum-book my last day’s journal,
and then, full of the expectation that we were now about to enter more
pleasant regions, lay down on my hard couch.