ACROSS THE CENTRAL TABLELAND TO KHINIS
The site of Erzerum is already familiar to my reader; he sees her
towers and minarets on the southern margin of a lake-like plain,
and raised on the daïs of a fan of detritus from the southern line
of heights. He knows the large surroundings of that city of inspiring
prospects: the long and regular line of the block of mountains in the
north, with their Sheikhjik, their Akhbaba, Jejen and Kop; the vague
and gloomy passage of the Gurgi Boghaz through those mountains; and in
the east the transverse parapet which interrupts the issue eastwards,
that freak of Nature, the Deveh Boyun. The southern barrier, which
rises in the peak of Palandöken to a height of 4500 feet above the
town, would appear to constitute an impassable obstacle to traffic;
and in fact precludes it during the winter months. Yet there are
several natural openings in the steep slopes of that barrier, leading
to the uplands of Tekman on its further side. Of these the principal
passage is that of Palandöken, crossing the so-called crater of the
Palandöken--Eyerli Dagh.
June 20.--Our course was directed up the fan of detritus to this
Palandöken Pass. [220] Our little horses, full of corn, curveted along
the path through the dreary waste of water-worn stones. Erzerum was
soon behind us, lost already in the expanse. What a contrast between
these cities of Asia and those of Europe with their suburbs and
villas! These repose upon their plains like a ship upon the ocean,
which you speak, and all is soon again blank. In half-an-hour from
the enceinte we gained a metalled road, which follows the course of
a torrent of some size. It leads to two modern forts, planted high
on the southern slope, on either side of the pass. The pass itself is
placed beneath the peak of Palandöken, upon its western flank. The road
goes winding up the gorge, and along the eastern side of the so-called
crater, crossing and re-crossing the torrent by a number of bridges.
A nameless and minor mountain of symmetrical proportions and vaulted
form rises on the northern margin of the cirque. We passed between
it and the slopes of Palandöken, supported by the outworks of the
larger mass. Patches of snow lay on the grass at this increased
altitude, their melting remnants fringed by bright fieldflowers. On
the banks were pulsatillas, with their drooping bells and scent of
wine; buttercups and marsh marigolds in the beds of the runnels;
forget-me-nots in profusion on every side. Still the scene was bleak
in character; and the sailing cumulus clouds sent their shadows over a
surface which has been worn by ice and snow and water, and seems alien
even to the hardiest plants. Such was the appearance of the irregular
caldron on our right hand--a yawning hollow sapping the bases of the
adjacent peaks. Closed on the south, it sends its drainage through deep
valleys to the plain. The white face of a limestone rock interrupts
the more grassy spaces, and is varied by the darker serpentines. The
soaring heights around the cirque are of eruptive volcanic origin,
and display the lava flows. After a sharp ascent, the chaussée reaches
the standing southern wall of this caldron, and is taken, in a fine
gallery, for some distance along its northern slope. Its cliff-like
outline extends from the heights of Palandöken to those of Eyerli in
the west. A turn of the road conducts us to the pass (9780 feet).
It was three o'clock; but the snow lay in sheets over the hollows,
and the temperature was only 46° Fahrenheit. Grey clouds veiled the
sky in the northern landscape, and were collected in inky masses about
the snowy peaks of the Chorokh region. The view in that direction,
and along the two parallel lines of heights which border the course
of the Frat, impressed us in a double sense. On the one hand it was
the great height of the summits in the north, which now showed up
behind the cone of Sheikhjik; we concluded that they must belong to
the group of mountains in which the Chorokh has its source. The other
fact which appeared plain was the rising and massing of both lines
of heights in the far west. Following the chain upon which we stood
across the slopes of the Eyerli Dagh, or pursuing the outline of the
opposite barrier across the plain, the long perspective westwards met
in shining masses of mountain, covered with snow and with precipitous
sides. In the case of the opposite barrier, Kop and Jejen and Akhbaba
were dwarfed and humbled by those Georgian heights upon the one side,
and, on the other, by those giants in the west.
A soldier, muffled in an overcoat, descends upon us from the nearest
fort, and bids us to desist from our investigations.--The tripod had
been erected: and they could see us taking bearings, which in this
country, devoid of maps, is regarded as spying. But the bearings had
been taken, and we were not loth to leave. The road becomes a track
as you descend the southern slopes; we might say farewell to roads
for many weeks.
Tekman lies before us--a vast plateau, a continuous basin, stretching
towards the foot of a gently vaulted opposite mountain with long
horizontal outline and shield-shaped slopes. It is the outline of the
Bingöl Dagh; such its appearance at this distance; it is thirty-two
miles away as the crow flies. It constitutes the opposite rim of the
basin, the counterpart of these heights in the north. Snow is lying
in large quantities even upon its lower contours, a fact explained
by their northern aspect and rounded shape (Fig. 176). [221] The
southern declivities of the barrier upon which we are standing are
only flecked with snow. Bingöl is little more than the culmination
upon the horizon of the long outline of the tableland--a snow-clad
ridge of little relative height. In places hard, black rock shows
through the shining canopy, just below the crest of the ridge. In the
east the highest point is but an eminence of the cliff-like parapet;
but in the west there is a low vaulting which resembles a peak. In
front of this western summit rises a mass of dark rock.
No intervening forms obstruct the view over the basin to that long,
low, east-west ridge. Nor further round, towards the east, is the
landscape interrupted, except at an immense interval and by imposing
shapes. At a distance of fifty-two miles, a second shield-shaped giant
is less conspicuous because only streaked with snow. It is Khamur, a
volcanic mass beyond the plain of Khinis--a plain concealed by these
higher levels, but indicated in places by a sharp edge, where the
plateau breaks abruptly to the floor of the plain. As the train of
Khamur declines, a very lofty and pronounced mountain towers up into
the sky. None of our attendants know its name; but it is the Akh Dagh,
seen in profile, the boundary of the Khinis region on the north. It is
forty miles distant; such are the limits in that direction; while in
the west the eye is arrested by outlines from the adjacent heights. We
cannot see Sipan for haze.
A better standpoint than that of the pass from which to realise this
region is afforded by the brow of a hill a few miles west of the
village of Madrak, to which we mounted on the following day. What
a bleak and lonely scene! A country of rolling downs extends on
every side, framed by the distant landmarks just described. Yet the
prevailing hue is not that of grass, even at this season; but of naked
limestone, weathered a pale ochre, or of serpentine, dull-green or
bluish-grey. Both rocks compose hills of a gently rounded character;
the limestones are most often capped by slabby lavas, which resist the
crumbling and contribute to the horizontal appearance of all higher
forms. The few clouds which have scaled the barrier of the Palandöken
send liquid shadows over the undulating expanse. Of cultivation there
is little--in places a patch of light reddish-brown; the stones are
thickly strewn upon the fallows. The sparse hamlets, built of mud
and stone, are lost in the folds of the hills.
We were disappointed with the flora. We saw whole beds of white
anemones; vigorous fennel and slender ferns filled the crevices
between the rocks. The long grass was coloured by the ubiquitous
forget-me-nots; magenta primulas flourish in the frequent
little marshes, and masses of buttercups along the margins of the
streams. Such flowers, although common and humble, filled the air with
perfume; and few countries in the world are endowed with such strong,
sweet air. The earlier hour and the clearer day enlarged the scope of
our vision; and the snow-robed Sipan, a second Ararat, was a ghostly
presence in the south-east. We strove to identify the outlines on the
extreme horizon of the half circle; but several even of the larger
masses were not marked on any map. In the west the general level
of the country was higher, and with less distinctive forms. In that
direction the opposite heights, of Bingöl and of Palandöken--the rims
of the basin--appeared in perspective almost to meet. And over the
edge of the Bingöl series you could see the mountains on the north of
the Murad, emerging in the far south-west. Looking backwards to the
northern barrier, we saw the white face of the limestone emerging in
patches from the rough grass on its slopes. It is little more than
the elevated and broken rim of the plateau country over which we were
making our way. The Akh Dagh showed up boldly on the limits of the
shallow synclinal described by these wintry, waterworn uplands. Deeply
eroded in that direction, they present a flat and more uniform surface
as they stretch, mile upon mile, with gently shelving contours,
to the opposite slopes of Bingöl.
What track will you follow, or what course will you shape towards
Khinis and its fertile plain? The natives take a route by Tashkesen
and Chaurma, and descend to the plain over the Akhviran Pass. They
travel in armed caravans. We had passed such a cavalcade on the road
from Palandöken, at the head of which, surrounded by attendants,
armed to the teeth, rode a woman, muffled and veiled. But a portion
of this route I had already followed during my former journey;
and I was anxious to penetrate into the little-known region in the
direction of Bingöl. The Kurdish village of Madrak is situated on
the further side of an affluent of the Araxes, at a distance of some
eight miles from the Palandöken Pass. Although it lies in a hollow,
near a marsh, abounding in snipe, it is about 1000 feet higher than
Erzerum (7061 feet). Our zaptieh professed to know a track which led in
the desired direction, and which should take us by a direct route to
Khinis. Starting at three o'clock, after a morning of storm and rain,
we followed a path which conducted us in a southerly direction across
the downs. A single hamlet was passed by, and after a ride of over
an hour we overlooked a spacious valley and a considerable stream. On
its left bank is placed the considerable Kurdish village of Duzyurt;
the gay dresses of the inhabitants brightened the scene. We forded
the stream, which must join the one on the north of Madrak; the water
was pellucid, but barely reached to our horses' knees. Regaining the
uplands on its further side we enjoyed a larger prospect; the whole
of Bingöl was exposed to view as well as some of the outlines in the
east. Forget-me-nots shed a shimmer of blue through the grass which,
as usual in this region, was thickly strewn with stones. At half-past
five we were high up and in face of a second river valley; some rude
buildings were collected on the down. We followed the course of this
valley some little distance towards the east, and pitched our tents
near the hamlet of Khedonun (6713 feet).
A band of armed Kurds, richly attired, were watering their horses,
or strolling idly along the banks of a little stream. The hamlet is
situated on its left bank. The inhabitants of this region are at the
present day exclusively Kurds; but I was informed that, as regards
the district of Tekman in general, they are of comparatively recent
importation. The Armenian inhabitants left en masse with the armies
of Paskevich, and the Kurds occupied their vacant villages. The Kurds
of Khedonun were said to belong to the Jibranli tribe--a tribe which
is strong in the caza of Varto. But among the Kurdish population
some have been brought from the distant vilayet of Diarbekr, at the
head of the Mesopotamian plains. These belong to the Zireki. Our
people fraternised with the horsemen; they composed the escort of a
bridegroom who had come to the village from a neighbouring hamlet in
quest of a bride. The wedding was to take place on the following day.
Although settled on the land, these Kurds are distinctly tribal,
and glory in the fact of being Kurds. Indeed throughout the country
which I crossed during my second journey, if I asked people whether
their village were "Osmanli," I received the emphatic answer,
"Kurd." Khedonun may serve as a sample of the settlements of this
district. It seemed fairly well-to-do. The wealth of the villagers
consists of their flocks and herds, upon the produce of which they
subsist. During winter they stable them in the group of buildings
which we had passed, and last winter a pack of wolves destroyed their
flock. They said that bears abounded in the neighbourhood. They sow a
little wheat, and plant some onions and cabbage; they profess to have
tried potatoes, but it was a failure, owing to the late frosts. Indeed
the night was very cold, not much above freezing; and even at ten
o'clock on the following morning the shade temperature was only
62°, although from sunrise the day had been warmed by a brilliant
sun. The wedding was extremely picturesque. The procession, all on
horseback, made a circuit of the countryside in the lap of which
the hamlet lies. The bride was robed in a red shawl, and sat astride
of a milk-white horse. A veil of yellow silk, which floated in the
breeze, completely concealed her face. On either side rode two women,
veiled and dressed in white. The horsemen, in gala attire, followed
or flanked the ladies; all proceeded at a walk. But from time to time
this irksome restraint was broken through by an explosion of wildness;
and a shouting warrior, mad with excitement, would dash forward at
full gallop, brandishing his rifle like a stick.
The Araxes, or Egri Chai, as it is called in the district, flows
at a little distance south of the hamlet and receives the runnel
which skirts Khedonun. That it was the Araxes appeared plain from
the volume of water which it brought, from the direction from which
it was flowing, and from our subsequent research. Mounting to an
eminence south of the village, we observed some lofty mountains on
the sky-line in the west. The boldest peak among them lay almost above
the course of the river, as it meandered towards the east. One of the
Kurds knew that peak by the name of Sheikhjik. The relation of these
mountains to the plateau country we were enabled to ascertain at a
later date. Looking up the valley we could see that it was carved
out of calcareous deposits, overlaid by flows of lava or tuff. These
deposits, which are without doubt lacustrine in character, extend
for some miles towards Bingöl.
June 23.--After fording the Aras we made our way for some considerable
distance up the fairly broad valley of another little river, which
was already close to its confluence. The valley favoured our course,
having an almost meridional direction; the river was coming straight
down from Bingöl. The peculiar charm of this region is the number of
delicious streams which furrow the breezy downs. With their grassy
valleys and blue surface they refresh and please the eye, and in
part atone for the absence of trees. The sides of the valley were
seen to consist of a very white lacustrine limestone; these rocks
were varied a few miles further, and at length almost superseded,
by sheets of dark brown tuff. Among such surroundings is situated
the considerable Kurdish village of Kalaji, backed by a low cliff of
rectangular blocks of tuff, and overlooking the stream from its left
bank. At this point we crossed the river and regained the uplands;
our landmarks were again in view. The snowy peak which we called
Sheikhjik lay on our right, above high outlines of these undulating
downs. Behind us stretched the outline of the Palandöken heights;
while before us rose the western and more pronounced eminence of the
long ridge of Bingöl. Our guide was making for a village at the foot
of Bingöl which bears the name of Kherbesor.
Hitherto we had been pursuing an almost southerly course; it was time
that we should be turning towards the east. This wide curve is dictated
by a block of limestone hills, which interposes a sea of peaks, with
little relative height, between Khedonun and the plain of Khinis. We
had now reached the base of the platform which supports Bingöl; it
breaks off just on the south of the village of Kherbesor in a line of
cliffs, which concealed the eastern summit. We were in the district
of Shushar; our further progress was directed up a wide valley between
those cliffs and the block of hills with the rounded peaks. The cliffs
appeared to consist of a dark lava, overlying calcareous lake deposits,
which again overlay the tuffs of the plain of Kherbesor. At a distance
of some five miles, we crossed a col (7340 feet) over a ridge of
limestone, joining the block of hills to the uppermost extremity of
the cliffs. Thence we descended to a spacious and roughly-circular
valley, a kind of caldron among the bleak heights. It sends its
drainage to the Araxes in a stream which skirts the eastern outworks
of the block of limestone hills. The hamlet of Ali Mur, which nestles
in the lap of this hollow, has an elevation of 7180 feet. It belongs
to the district of Khinis. It takes its name from a grey-beard who
became our guide on the following day, and who was the founder of
the settlement. Ali Mur and his people are Kizilbash Kurds. He told
me that they had found on this site the relics of a village known as
Kharaba, and a cemetery which he believed was Mussulman.
Next morning we made our way in a south-easterly direction up the
amphitheatral heights. In less than an hour we arrived at the col
(7490 feet), a ridge of limestone hardened to marble, just outside the
limits of the lavas of Bingöl. This pass lies some miles south-west
of that of Akhviran, and, like that pass, leads down from the plateau
country to the lower levels of the plain of Khinis. Our immediate
surroundings were lofty downs from which rose the ridge of Bingöl,
both summits being fully exposed. Beyond a vast trough, in which the
plain of Khinis lay, the mass of Khamur loomed large (Fig. 177). In
the south-east soared the snowy shape of Sipan, infinitely high.
As we descended we overlooked two deeply-eroded cañons, that on our
right hand being much the more pronounced. The stream which flows
within it is known as the Bingöl Su; a smaller affluent was coming
down the minor cañon. All these waters find their way round the
Khamur elevation by a long course to the Murad. The face of the cañon
of the Bingöl Su displayed lavas and tuffs to a depth of about 100
feet; these were seen to overlie the limestone, and it was evident
that they had come from Bingöl. Similar terraces capped the cliffs
of the minor stream. The ride over the tongue of high land which
separates the cañons was not only remarkable for the wide prospects
which opened before us, but also for the refreshing change to a
little vegetation and to a kinder climate. Little oak trees clothe
the slopes, and an abundance of wild roses; these and purple peonies
were in full bloom. When we reached the bed of the smaller river and,
after fording it, followed the Bingöl Su, the pleasantness of our
first impression was increased. The valley had become wide, but with
high cliffs on either side; that on the right showed a face of lava,
capped by tuff. These tuffs in the Bingöl region resemble blocks of
masonry, and have the horizontal outline of a wall. The heights on
the left bank were of marble. The river winds like a snake through
a fairly wide meadow, in which the grass was vividly green. Tall
willows spread their shade over the crystal-clear water; and our
English fieldflowers, the poppy being most conspicuous, coloured the
luscious undergrowth. Grave storks were busy in the marshy places;
the song of nightingales was heard in the groves. The limbs relaxed
beneath this summer; we were loth to leave the sweet valley after a
ride within it of three-quarters of an hour. The river enters a gorge
before issuing into the plain; our path took us up the heights above
its right bank. For some time we enjoyed fine views over the level
country in the east, and then descended to the bed of a tributary. Here
I greeted and Oswald admired the lonely "church in the valley." [222]
A little later we arrived on the edge of the cañon in which reposes
the town of Khinis (5550 feet).