CHAPTER XII

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).