Here we had reached an elevation of not less than 4000 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[85] 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 table-land 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

wadi 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: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.

M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.

ÉGERI.

July 29th. 1850.]

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

wadi, 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.

[Illustration]

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 wide-spreading ethel-

bushes, and, what was more interesting to us, the ʿashur (or, as the

Háusa people call it, “tunfáfia,” the Kanori “krunka,” the Tawárek

“tursha”), the celebrated, wide-spread, 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 wide-

spreading 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[86]

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, which

have been fully detailed by the late Mr. Richardson, 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 E’ 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 stated 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

anyone, 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 W.N.W. to E.S.E., and gradually occupying 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.

Our day’s journey was pleasantly varied by our meeting with the van of a

large caravan belonging to the wealthy Fezzáni merchant Khuëldi, 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.

[Sidenote: August 2nd.]

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 600 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.

[Illustration]

The nature of this desert region is well understood by the nomadic

Tawárek 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 barbican 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

Tawárek settled thereabouts.

[Sidenote: Tuesday, August 6th.]

The sand-hills which we ascended after starting were not very high; but

after a while we had to 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 150 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 sand-

stone, 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 1000 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.

[Sidenote: Thursday, August 8th.]

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[87], 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 inclosed by two picturesque

ranges of rocks, 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 Tawárek 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.

[Footnote 84: This word “éneli” occurs in the Travels of Ebn Batúta.]

[Footnote 85: See above, p. 229.]

[Footnote 86: The appellative Sídi appears to be an honourable

distinction among the Hogár; and the messenger who brought us this news

generally called the chieftain of whom he spoke only by this name, Sídi.

This is also the name by which Sultan Shafo’s father is generally

called. The whole tribe of the Urághen seems even to have the surname

Síd-azkár. To what extent this name Sídi is abused in Timbúktu, I shall

have occasion to observe in the further course of my travels.]

[Footnote 87: In Mr. Richardson’s Journal, vol. i. p. 194., this place

has been confounded with Janet, the name having been probably written in

the MS. “Tanet,” a form used also by Mr. Overweg, and which seems to be

verified.]

CHAP. XII.

DANGEROUS APPROACH TO ASBEN.

[Sidenote: Friday, August 9th.]

There had been much talk about our starting at midnight; but,

fortunately, we did not get off before daylight, so that I was able

to continue my exact observations of the route, which was now to cross

the defile observed yesterday afternoon, which already began to

impart quite a characteristic aspect to the country. There were some

beautifully-shaped cones rising around it, while beyond them an uneven

tract stretched out, crowded with small elevations, which gradually rose

to greater height; among them one peak, of very considerable elevation,

was distinguished by its graceful form, and seemed worthy of a sketch.

Attached to it was a lower rocky range, with a very marked horizontal

crest, while running parallel to our path were small ledges of gneiss.

After a march of seven miles and a half, we ascended a considerable

range of rugged eminences, from the crest of which we followed a steep

descent into an uneven rocky tract intersected by several shallow beds

of torrents; and then, just as the heat began, we reached the valley of

Arókam, where we encamped at about half an hour’s distance from the

well, and opposite to a branch-wadi through which lay our next day’s

route. In the afternoon I climbed the highest of the cones rising above

the cliffs, but without obtaining any distant prospect.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: Saturday, August 10th.]

The active buzu Amankay, who early in the morning went once more to the

well in order to fill a few water-skins, brought the news that a

considerable caravan, consisting chiefly of Aníslimen or Merabetín from

Tintaghodé, had arrived at the well the evening before, on their road to

Ghát, and that they protested against our visiting their country, and

still more against our approaching their town. Notwithstanding the bad

disposition of these people towards us, I managed to induce one of them,

who visited our encampment, to take charge of letters addressed by me to

Háj Ibrahim, in Ghát, which I am glad to say arrived safely in Europe.

Amankay reported to us that on his way to the well he had observed a

small palm-tree.

We started rather late in the morning, entering the branch-wadi, which

proved to be far more considerable than it seemed, and rich in talha-

trees. In this way we kept winding along several valleys, till, after a

march of three miles, we ascended and crossed a very interesting defile,

or a slip in the line of elevation, bordered on both sides by a terraced

and indented slope, the highest peaks of the ridge rising to not less

than a thousand feet, while their general elevation was about six

hundred feet. Mr. Overweg recognized this as gneiss. Close beyond this

defile, at the foot of mounds of disintegrated granite, we encamped, to

our great astonishment, a little after eight o’clock in the morning; but

the reason of this short march was, that our companions, on account of

the arrival of the caravan above mentioned, did not choose to stop at

our former encampment, else they would have rested there to-day. In the

afternoon a high wind arose, which upset our tent.

[Illustration]

[Sidenote: Sunday, August 11th.]

Travels and discoveries in North and Central Africa, Vol. 1 (of 5) · 第 16 / 35 段