IN THE HEART OF THE TAURUS.
During this 25th August we had fixed our position so far as our
obsolete map would permit. We had, we thought, just crossed the
watershed of the Taurus, and if the day had only been clearer might
perhaps have obtained our first view of the sea from our point of
vantage that morning. This fact of being on the watershed, together
with a compass-bearing on to a peak recognisable to the south, settled
our position fairly definitely as a little to the west of the range
marked Gueuk Tepe on the map. This was in agreement with a check by
dead reckoning based on Looney's diary from the time we had passed the
Ak Gueul, and meant that we had still forty-five miles between us and
the sea, even as the crow flies; or, by the way we should take for the
sake of better going, something well over fifty miles.
Soon after setting out on the following night's march, the accuracy
of our estimate was confirmed, for the map showed a main road not
far ahead from our supposed position, and this as a matter of fact we
crossed within half an hour's trek. Just beyond the road and a little
to the east of our course rose a cone-shaped hill, crowned by what at
first looked like an old castle, but which, on a nearer view, resolved
itself into a natural outcrop of white rock. It was then 7 o'clock. An
hour later we were grateful for the find of a small stream of perfectly
clear water. This was the first we had discovered since crossing the
beautiful valley where we had enjoyed our much-needed bathe thirty odd
hours before.
By this time, however, we had become comparatively inured to a shortage
of water. It was only a fortnight ago that one of the party had
collapsed after a lesser privation. Now we did not even trouble to fill
completely the larger of the two serviceable chargals, although it is
true there were other reasons which encouraged us in this serenity. For
one thing, now that we were on the southern slopes of the Taurus, we
hoped that our water troubles were over. In point of fact, we were to
find ourselves sadly disappointed. Then again, we were loth to put such
a drag upon our speed as a full chargal certainly was, change hands
though it might every half-hour. So far that night we had maintained
a pace of four miles an hour. The meat eaten during the previous two
days had undoubtedly met a very real need, and with the cheese and
chupatties, and the longer periods for rest, had given us a sense
of renewed vigour. Time, however, still passed with the same deadly
slowness. On the first night that we had started taking the chargals
turn and turn about at regular intervals, more than one of the party
had imagined that he had been doing a spell of a full hour, and was
horrified to hear that in reality it had been only half that length.
On this night the moon rose at about 8.30; there was thus a short
period of darkness between sunset and moonlight, and as we should have
a three-quarter moon for the whole of the rest of the night, we could
afford to rest for twenty minutes when the twilight had faded. This was
the more desirable, as we were still in difficult country. The surface
itself was not as bad as might have been expected, for, after all, we
were in the Taurus; but our course was constantly being crossed by
steep nullahs. The climb up their farther sides was very fatiguing.
To avoid some of these, we proceeded, wherever possible, to follow the
crest-line, and as soon as the moon was up the field-glasses once more
proved their value by enabling Cochrane to pick out the best route. As
time went on, however, the country became more and more broken, until
we found it necessary, if endless detours were to be avoided, to take
the nullahs as they came. After a few more climbs, we almost gave up
trying to keep on our proposed course, which was a little E. of S.,
and nearly decided instead to follow down a valley to the S.W., which
promised better going. In the end, however, we contented ourselves with
making a mile and a half an hour in our original direction, and were
rewarded by finding in one of the nullahs a little spring of water.
At 11 P.M., having found a fairly sheltered nook (for the wind
at night was always cold at this altitude), we took the opportunity
of snatching a little sleep. It has to be confessed that some of us
also made a premature attack on the next day's ration of cheese and
chupatties. To help level up our loads, these had been shared out
already, and after our experience of the joys of a full meal--we allude
again to the goat--we found having food in our packs a sore temptation.
Without the safeguard of common ownership, it ceased to be inviolable.
Yet perhaps after all it was best to eat at night, when we were doing
all the hard work, and when, in addition, it was cold.
Shortly after midnight we moved on, and were soon cheered by the
discovery of a narrow track leading in the right direction, and
cleverly avoiding all the difficulties of the broken ground on either
side. This we were able to follow at a hard 3½ miles an hour until
a little before daybreak. Then seeing lights ahead, we left the main
track, thinking it must be leading us on to a village. Immediately
around us there was no cover from view, and as the first tinge of dawn
lit up the countryside, we saw that our only hiding-place would be in
the wooded hills on the farther side of the valley in which lay the
supposed houses. Proceeding at our best speed, we began a race with
the sun, punctuated only by halts of a few seconds now and then as
Cochrane searched anxiously round through the field-glasses; for we
could hear herds moving about, and other lights had come into view. The
descent proved steeper and longer than had been anticipated, and it was
not till after five o'clock, and just before sunrise, that we reached
the foot of the valley. Here we found we had to cross a stream ten to
twelve feet wide, and, on account of the marshy ground, at a point
not 500 yards away from the lights. These came, as we now saw, from a
small group of timber huts, and in our haste to reach cover we plunged
straight through the stream, to find that only a few yards farther up
we might have crossed by stepping-stones in a place where the stream
was only a foot deep.
This was no time for vain regrets, so we were soon clambering up the
farther slope, which was covered with scattered pines. Under cover of
these we gave ourselves a couple of minutes' breathing space, for the
hill was steep, and then went on over the top of the first ridge, a
thousand feet above the stream, and into a little dip beyond. Here we
found a trickle of water, and settled down amongst some small trees and
thorny scrub. The first thing to do was to take off our soaked boots
and let them dry; after this a brew of cocoa was prepared--well earned
by what we reckoned was a 27-mile march in the previous twelve hours.
Most of our feet were terribly sore, and Looney spent an hour sewing on
bandages before he struggled back into his boots that day.
With the present satisfactory rate of progress we could afford to be
rather more liberal with our food; and so the camp fire never died
down, for we took it in turns to make "pilaus" all that day. These were
made from crushed wheat, and differed from the porridge we had been
accustomed to make from it while at Yozgad, in that before boiling
it was mixed with a little melted dripping, a supply of which we had
obtained from the village. The resulting pilau was a vast improvement
on the plain porridge, besides being rather quicker to cook--a
consideration in view of the smallness of our cooking-pot. Altogether
we must have had five pilaus at this bivouac, but as each when
distributed filled only a third of a pint mug, we cannot be accused
of greed. To avoid all waste we had brought along even the bones of
the goat; from these we now made a weak soup, after which the bones
themselves were divided out for a last picking, some of us even eating
their softer portions. We were out of sight of the huts in the valley
which we had so hastily crossed, but could see the top of the hill on
the farther side; here was a fairly large walled village, with houses
built of stone and roofed with the usual flat mud roofs. Although
we could see this with our glasses, we were too far to be observed
ourselves, and moreover little sign of life appeared there. That
afternoon, however, we had a few anxious moments, when two men came
over the next ridge to the south of us: they passed within a hundred
yards of where we lay, but appeared not to have seen us.
In the evening, having moved a short distance up the same ridge, we
were having a five minutes' halt when two more men, this time on
donkeys, came over the crest and almost rode on top of us. They asked,
"Who are you? Where are you going?" and "Why hiding?" We did not
answer, so they said, "Are you foreigners that you don't understand
Turkish?" Then they went on, and so did we. Fortunately, even should
they report any suspicions they had, we were in country that was much
intersected and in which it would have been difficult for any one to
trace us. So difficult, in fact, was the bit of ground which met our
view on reaching the top of the range we were on, that it was some
minutes before we could make up our minds which would be the best line
to follow.
Eventually we decided to make for a ridge which seemed negotiable,
and on proceeding came very shortly afterwards to a spring and a
goat-track. After drinking all the water we could, we followed the
latter. It was as well we did so, for the track took us round the head
of a precipitous ravine which might have taken a whole day to cross if
we had attempted to pass over direct. On the far side, too, the track
still kept the general direction we wanted, namely, some twenty degrees
east of south, and so we clung to it steadily until 8.30 P.M.
We had been marching for three hours, and now following our procedure
of the previous night, slept till 9.45, by which time the moon had
risen. Before halting, we had seen one or two shepherds' fires ahead,
so took the precaution to move fifty yards or so off the track in case
there should be any traffic. By this time we had given up keeping a
watch on the night halts, though we still did so by day. The reason for
this was that sleep was only obtainable during the nights, and we could
not afford to let even one member of the party go without it. On this
particular occasion it was comparatively warm, considering that we
were on an open hillside in the Taurus, and we were much rested by the
sleep we obtained.
When we resumed our way we still kept to our friendly path, although
it was becoming more and more stony. A little before midnight we found
ourselves in a dilemma, for, after leading us to the edge of a deep
valley which ran at right angles to our course, the track now branched
right and left. The problem was which path to follow. If we had stopped
to think we might have realised that, in mountainous country, even
the most friendly road cannot always take you by a direct route, and
that the longest way round is often the shortest way home. However, on
this occasion we made an error of judgment and went straight ahead.
The slope, at first comparatively grassy and gradual, became rapidly
more rocky and precipitous, until at about 1.30 A.M., after
descending close upon 1500 feet, we found ourselves on the edge of a
yawning gorge, at the bottom of which foamed a raging mountain torrent.
We were not as glad to see this water as usual, for we had crossed a
rivulet on our way down: at this we had already quenched our thirst,
although at the time dogs had been barking at us from some shepherds'
huts on the valley slope. The difficulty now was to find a practicable
path up the farther bank. The torrent itself was passable easily
enough, for natural stepping-stones abounded in its rock-strewn bed;
and in fact we did cross and re-cross it several times in a painful
endeavour to make our way a little farther to the west.
Everywhere, however, beyond a rough and narrow ledge of rock by the
side of the stream, the far bank rose up sheer above us. In the
moonlight the scene was wonderful, and we could not help thinking how
perfect a place this would have been for a day's halt. But we could not
afford to lose precious time, and for the present our whole aim was to
leave it as soon as possible. At one spot, having seen a light burning
not far from the water's edge, we proceeded very cautiously. It proved
to proceed from the stump of a tree which some one had probably set on
fire to warm himself and had left burning: happily no one was there
now. After a two hours' struggle we had to own that we were defeated,
and were compelled to climb back out of the gorge and still on the
wrong side. Moving along its edge at a higher level, for another two
hours we searched in vain for a more likely crossing-place, and were
almost in despair when we suddenly heard the voices of men and women
below us. Looking down, we saw in the moonlight a party of Turks or
Armenians in the act of crossing a fine old bridge which spanned the
gorge between two absolutely vertical banks in a single semicircular
arch of stone. Even now it was some little time before we could pick
up the path leading down to it, but when we did so we were agreeably
surprised to find that the bridge was not guarded. In the last five
hours we had progressed but one mile in the right direction.
When at last we crossed the gorge it was barely an hour to dawn, and
we had not followed the mountain road leading up the farther side for
long before we had to be on the look-out for a hiding-place. There was
little cover higher up the hill; so we turned right-handed and dropped
down once more towards the gorge, hoping that after all it would do us
the good turn of providing us with water and shade for the day. On the
way down, however, we saw a cave hollowed out in the rocky hillside,
and as the bank below was very steep, we decided we would not give
ourselves a single foot of unnecessary climbing when we started off
again next evening. We accordingly entered the cave; but Cochrane and
Perce, after ridding themselves of their packs, valiantly climbed down
again to the water and came back with the two chargals full. So much
had all the fruitless clambering taken out of us that we were more
tired on this day than after double the distance on the night previous,
and, except for taking turns to cook, every one lay like a log in
the cave. The latter faced west, and was roofed by two elliptical
semi-domes side by side beneath a larger arch in the rock, but being
shallow in width compared to the height of the roof, allowed the sun to
stream in upon us in the latter part of the afternoon.
On leaving the cave at about 7 P.M., as rugged country still
lay ahead, we thought it best to work our way obliquely up the hill and
regain the track which had led us up from the bridge over the ravine.
To this we clung for the greater part of the night which followed,
although it involved passing through several villages. We found
ourselves in the first almost before we realised that a village existed
there at all: it seemed, however, a city of the dead.
Not a dog barked at our approach, and the narrow crooked streets
appeared deserted, until suddenly the white-clad figure of a woman
flitted across our path. Fortunately she did not pause to find out who
were these strange nocturnal visitors.
Not long afterwards we saw lights ahead, and as we drew nearer found
that our road branched to right and left, the latter branch leading
towards the lights which seemed to proceed from a village. After the
previous night's experience we had no intention of attempting any
cross-country going if we could possibly avoid it. Here, indeed, to go
on direct would have necessitated crossing first a valley of unknown
depth, and then an enormous ridge which reared up its black bulk
against the clear starry sky. It was fairly obvious that the two roads
went round either end of this ridge; after that it was a toss-up which
was the more likely to lead us towards the sea. In view of the village
and of the noisy clatter on the stony track of the booted members of
the party, Cochrane elected to take the right-hand branch, and this
we followed for over a mile. It was leading us due west, and seemed
likely to continue to do so for several miles more before the ridge
was rounded. The coast opposite our position ran, we knew, rather from
N.E. to S.W., and so every mile we marched west added another to our
distance from the coast. At the next halt we reconsidered the question
of roads, and decided we must go back and risk the village. But it was
essential to make less noise, and so, as we once more approached the
cross-roads, those not wearing "chariqs" padded their boots with old
socks, bits of shirt, and pieces of felt.
It gives some idea of the absolute weariness of body which now
was ours, when it is stated that it was only after much forcible
persuasion from Nobby that those who would have the trouble of tying
on the padding could be induced to take this precaution. But in the
end wise counsels prevailed, and we succeeded in passing through the
village--and it was a large one--without causing any apparent alarm.
Looney, however, lost one of his mufti hats with which he had padded
one of his boots.
The track now increased in width to as much as ten feet, being roughly
levelled out of the solid rock, and running along a ledge above a
precipitous ravine. Below us we heard the roar of a mountain stream,
and as at one point a rough path had been cut down to water-level,
Cochrane descended it and fetched up a chargal full of water. It was to
prove a serious mistake that we did not fill all our receptacles here.
On resuming our way, we were taken by our road over another striking
bridge which crossed the ravine a little higher up. This time the arch
was a pointed one. Once more we found the defile unguarded. We were
probably in magnificent mountain scenery, but could see little of it,
as the moon had not yet risen. Even though after crossing the bridge we
waited in the warmth of a little cave till after the time of moonrise,
the moon itself did not become visible until two hours later, so steep
were the slopes on every side of us. We could see, however, that we
were going round the eastern shoulder of the ridge which had blocked
our direct route, and this ridge rose sheer from the very edge of the
ravine.
Without a road to follow, we should have fared badly indeed. Even
with it, the climb from the bridge had been severe, but on proceeding
we soon came to the top of the rise and found ourselves walking on a
carpet of pine-needles through a beautiful open forest. This was a
wonderful contrast to the arid wastes or rugged ridges across which had
been so many of our long and weary marches. Even here, however, the
country was soon to resume its more normal aspect. We found ourselves
descending into an open valley with no signs of trees or vegetation.
Our road, too, dwindled to the width and unevenness of an ordinary
village track, and this it turned out to be, for it led past a few
isolated huts, and finally at 1 A.M. took us into a village.
A little before, during one of the hourly halts, we had seen in the
moonlight a man approaching on a donkey; so we took to our feet and
marched again in order to pass him the more quickly. This we did
without a single word being exchanged.
In the village we could hear the sound of men talking and laughing
together. This was rather disconcerting, as for one thing we had been
hoping to find where they obtained their water. Far from finding
either well or spring or stream, however, we even had some difficulty
in finding the path out of the village. We were about to cut across
country, and had gone as far as to climb over a hedge into some
vineyards, when we recognised the path to the west of us. It worked
along the side of a hill apparently towards a saddle in the steep ridge
which closed the valley ahead. While we were in the vineyard we felt
around for grapes, but the vines were barren; in fact the whole valley
seemed waterless. We now regained the track and had nearly reached the
top of the ridge when our path suddenly took into its head to start
descending the valley again. Though we were loth to leave any track so
long as it made some pretence of going anywhere in our direction, this
was too much for our patience, and Cochrane led us due east, so as to
cross the bleak ridge which bordered the valley on that side and see
what the next valley could do for us. But even here our difficulties
were not to end: the farther hillside was rocky in the extreme and
covered with scrub and stunted trees, amongst which we clambered for
some two hours without finding any valley to promise easy progress in
the direction of the sea. To "Kola" tablets we once more resorted.
Finally, an hour before dawn, we lay down as we were, disheartened,
without water, and without a road.