Chapter 33
MOUNT HAGHIER AND FEREGHET
After leaving our camp at Saihon we took a path in a south-westerly direction, and after a few days of somewhat monotonous travelling we came again into the deeper valleys and finer scenery of the central districts of the island. Through them we made our way in the direction of Mount Haghier.
Sokotra without Mount Haghier would be like a body without a soul. The great mass of mountains which occupies the centre of the island rises in many jagged and stupendous peaks to the height of nearly 5,000 feet. At all seasons of the year it catches the fugitive sea mists which so rarely visit the Arabian coasts, and down its sides flow sparkling streams and bubbling cascades. The Ghebel Bit Molek (a name which, by the way, sounds as if it had an Assyrian origin) is the highest peak. It is very sheer and unapproachable at its summit, and though only 4,900 feet high will give trouble to the adventurous crag-climber who is bent on conquering it. Then there are the Driat peaks, the Adouna peaks, and many others piercing the sky like needles, around which wild goats and civet cats roam, but no other big game.
In the lower ground are found quantities of wild donkeys, which, the Bedouin complained, were in the habit of trampling upon and killing their goats. Whether these donkeys are naturally wild or descendants of escaped tamed ones I am unable to say. Some are dark and some are white, and their skins seemed to be more glossy than those of the domestic moke. The Bedouin like to catch them if they can, with the hope of taming them for domestic use.
The glory of Mount Haghier is undoubtedly its dragon's-blood tree (_Dracænia cinnabari_), found scattered at an elevation of about 1,000 feet and upwards over the greater part of Sokotra. Certainly it is the quaintest tree imaginable, from 20 feet to 30 feet high, exactly like a green umbrella which is just in the process of being blown inside out, I thought. One of our party thought them like huge green toadstools, another like trees made for a child's Noah's Ark. The gum was called _kinnàbare_, but the Arab name is _kàtir_. The Sokoteri name is _edah_.
It is a great pity that the Sokotrans of to-day do not make more use of the rich ruby-red gum which issues from its bark when punctured, and which produces a valuable resin, now used as varnish; but the tree is now found in more enterprising countries--in Sumatra, in South America, and elsewhere. So the export of dragon's blood from its own ancient home is now practically _nil_.
If the dragon's-blood tree, with its close-set, radiating branches and stiff, aloe-like leaves, is quaint--and some might be inclined to say ugly--it has, nevertheless, its economic use; but not so its still quainter comrade on the slopes of Mount Haghier, the gouty, swollen-stemmed _Adenium_. This, I think, is the ugliest tree in creation, with one of the most beautiful of flowers: it looks like one of the first efforts of Dame Nature in tree-making, happily abandoned by her for more graceful shapes and forms. The swollen and twisted contortions of its trunk recall with a shudder those miserable sufferers from elephantiasis; its leaves are stiff and formal, and they usually drop off, as if ashamed of themselves, before the lovely flower, like a rich-coloured, large oleander blossom, comes out. The adenium bears some slight resemblance, on a small scale, to the unsightly baobab-tree of Africa, though it tapers much more rapidly, and looks as if it belonged to a different epoch of creation to our own trees at home.
Then there is the cucumber-tree, another hideous-stemmed tree, swollen and whitish; and the hill-slopes covered with this look as if they had been decorated with so many huge composite candles which had guttered horribly. At the top of the candle are a few short branches, on which grow a few stiff crinkly leaves and small yellow flowers, which produce the edible fruit. This tree, in Sokoteri _kamhàn_, the _Dendrosicyos Socotrana_ of the botanist, is like the language of the Bedouin, found only on Sokotra, and is seldom more than 10 or 12 feet in height. It is a favourite perch for three or four of the white vultures which swarm in the island, and the picture formed by these ungainly birds on the top of this ungainly tree is an odd one.
To the south of Mount Haghier one comes across valleys entirely full of frankincense-trees, with rich red leaves, like autumn tints, and clusters of blood-red flowers. No one touches the trees here, and this natural product of the island is now absolutely ignored. Then there are the myrrhs, also ignored, and other gum-producing plants; and the gnarled tamarinds, affording lovely shade, and the fruit of which the natives, oddly enough, do know the value of, and make a cooling drink therewith. Then there are the tree-euphorbias, which look as if they were trying to mimic the dragon's blood, the branches of which the natives throw into the lagoons so that the fish may be killed, and the poisonous milky juice of which they rub on the bottoms of their canoes to prevent leakage.
Such are among the oddest to look upon of Sokotra's vegetable productions. Wild oranges, too, are found on Mount Haghier, of a very rich yellow when ripe, but bitter as gall to eat; and the wild pomegranate, with its lovely red flowers and small yellow fruit, the flannelly coating of which only is eaten, instead of the seeds, as is the case with the cultivated one.
The vegetable world is indeed richly represented in this remote island, and one could not help thinking what possibilities it would offer for the cultivation of lucrative plants, such as tobacco, which is now grown by the natives in small quantities, as is also cotton; and perhaps coffee and tea would thrive on the higher elevations.
The Bedouin would bring us aloes both in leaf and in solution, in hopes that we might take a fancy to this venerable Sokotran production. Now a very little of it is collected, and everybody takes what he likes from the nearest source, whereas, I believe, in former times, when aloes were an object of commerce here, the plantations were strictly divided off by walls, and the owners jealously looked after their property.
The way the aloe-juice is collected is this. As the Abyssinians do when they are going to wash clothes the aloe-gatherers dig a hole in the ground and line it with a skin. Then they pile old leaves, points outward, all round till the pressure makes the juice exude. This at first is called _taïf diho_, or _riho_, both of the latter words used for water, though the former is the most usual. It is left till it is firmer and drier, and this takes about a month. Then it is called _taïf geshisha_. When it has dried for about six weeks it is nearly hard, and called _taïf kasahal_. It is exported in skins. The collection of dragon's blood is carried on just like that of the mastic in Chios. The drops are knocked off into bags. The drops which come off unbroken are the most valued, and called _edah amsello_. Then the nice, clean, broken bits are picked out, and called _edah dakkah_; the refuse, with bits of dirt, bark, and leaves stuck in it, _edah_. This is made up into cakes with a little resin and sold very cheap.
My husband as usual made a botanical collection, and I believe it contained a few novelties; but for further particulars on the flora of Sokotra and the trees thereof I must refer you to Professor Bailey Balfour's very huge and equally interesting book. We were so fortunate as to have it with us, and it added much to our pleasure.
Our way was over broken ground, with little of interest save the lovely views over mountain and gorge and the many dragon, frankincense, and myrrh trees, past an open space in which is the village of Jahaida, where the inhabitants had cultivated some little fields, to Röshi, where there was no village but a good deal of water. We encamped in a cattle-pen, the camel-men making themselves a capital house with floors, walls, and sides of the thick mats of the camels. These mats are really like hard mattresses, nearly 1 inch thick, and very stiff, about 1 yard long by 2 feet wide.
We always tried to encamp in a field if we could, as then we were sure of some earth for the tent-pegs. After three days, during which I do not think our guides knew their way very well, we went over a steep pass, up and down, into the deep valley of Es'hab. We had wandered about a good deal backwards and forwards over stony wolds, and the men all disagreed as to the direction, and we had scrambled up a valley off our road to see some supposed inscriptions, a much more dangerous place than the Kadhoup road.
The Es'hab valley, with its rich red stone dotted with green and its weird trees, forms an admirable foreground to the blue pinnacles of Haghier--tropical and Alpine at the same time.
The climbing was most tremendous, up first and then down very steeply, all over large sharp loose stones, till we reached the water, the camel-men leaning backwards holding their camels by their tails with all their might by way of putting on the drag. When we reached the valley we gladly mounted our camels, and squeezed through woods, and often were nearly torn off. We encamped in a sweet place, with a stream and shade and a most fragrant carpet of basil, some of which we had in our soup, and some of which was carried on for future use. We found the management of our milk-tins rather difficult. We often had to resort to them, for, surrounded though we were by herds of cattle, the supply of fresh milk was very irregular: sometimes we could have more than we wanted and at others none at all. It is pretty dear, too, in Sokotra, as so much is used up for the _ghi_.
On January 17 we forced our way on through more woods, the peak of Toff seeming to fill up the end of the valley, to the Wadi Dishel, and crossed over to the Wadi Dikadik, where we settled near a wide river in a beautiful grassy spot, with many trees entwined with monkey-ropes, rejoicing that on the following day we should reach Fereghe, or Fereghet, where we intended to rest some time. We had heard from Ammar a delightful description of it, and as we have so often been disappointed under such circumstances we said we would take all possible enjoyment out of the pleasures of hope beforehand. But really this time we had everything we expected, including a wide rocky river, enabling us to bathe, develop photographs, and set up a laundry.
Fereghet was, in fact, a most charming spot. Here our tents were pitched beneath wide-spreading tamarinds, and we could walk in shade for a considerable distance under these gigantic old trees. Fereghet, moreover, was the site of an ancient ruined town which interested us exceedingly: walls, 8 to 10 feet thick, had been constructed out of very large unhewn boulders externally, filled with rubble, to check the torrent, which in the rainy season rushes down here carrying all before it to the sea. These walls, showing much skill in keeping a straight line, are clearly the work of an age long gone by, when weight-moving was better understood than it is at present, and doubtless the ruins of Fereghet may be traced back to the days when Sokotra was resorted to for its gums. The fine old tamarind-trees had done much to destroy the colossal wall, only about 100 feet of which now remains, still about 5 feet high; but there are many other traces of ruins and a small fort of later date. It is likely enough that Fereghet was a great centre of the trade of the island, for frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood grow copiously around, and the position under the slopes of Haghier, and almost in the middle of the island, was suitable for such a town.
We opened a tomb not very far from Fereghet with a great block of stone over it, 6 feet long by 3 feet thick; but the ill-conditioned relatives of the deceased had placed nothing therein save the corpse; and we were annoyed not to find any trace of inscriptions near this ruined town, which might have thrown some light on the subject. All I feel sure of is that the Portuguese did not build this town, as it is commonly asserted. In fact we did not see any building on the island which can definitely be ascribed to that nation.
Below Fereghet the valley gets broader and runs straight down to the sea at the south of the island, where the streams from Mount Haghier all lose themselves in a vast plain of sand called Noget, which we could see from the mountains up which we climbed.
This is the widest point of the island of Sokotra, and it is really only thirty-six miles between the ocean at Tamarida and the ocean at Noget, but the intervention of Mount Haghier and its ramifications make it appear a very long way indeed.
The island to the east and to the west of its great mountain very soon loses its fantastic scenery and its ample supply of water. The most remarkable peak we could see from Fereghet was Adouna. The topmost point of this mountain is split. We saw this clearly afterwards, when we continued our journey up the valley, but from Fereghet, I found it out by seeing a small cloud passing through it. To look at the mountains you would think they were made of black stone with a few patches of red lichen, but really these patches of red are the natural rock showing amongst the fine black lichen which covers the mountains.
The channels of the water in the river-bed are shown by this blackness, and the water looks like an inky stream.
Beyond Fereghet we were near a river the water of which was very low. The main bed of the water-channel was all black, and above this was a coat of white over the blackened stones, and as the remaining pools were all white, I suppose that some white tributary continues flowing later than the black stream.
The few Bedouin who live round Fereghet were in constant contact with our camp, as you will understand when you know that our tent was pitched exactly on their high road--a little narrow path. They behaved most kindly in going aside. The women used to bring us aloe plants just torn up, and seemed much disappointed at finding that we did not find any use for them.
We heard from them that there is only one leper on the island and he lives alone in the hills.
Our sheltering tamarind-trees, wide-spreading and gnarled, abounded in doves; some were small ones like ours, and some of the parrot kind, whose cawing was far from sedative. We enjoyed wandering in the shade of the fig-trees, wild and unprofitable, the date and other trees. Around us stood the relics of a bygone race of men, who had ill-naturedly left us no inscriptions on stone, and no clue to tell us who they were. Mountains hemmed us in on every side, and any little wind was very refreshing, for we were only about 400 feet above the sea-level, and quite sheltered from our now only too-well-known north-east monsoon. On a kind of promontory by a deep pool in the river is a building of stones and mortar, later in style than the wall and equally inexplicable, probably a fort.
It is impossible to describe the fantastic beauty of the delightful Fereghet. We were quite sorry to leave it on January 24. We rode a little way along the river, passing a single fan-palm-tree, very tall and bare, and then had another great climb up and down. We passed a good many old tombs, which had been opened. They were made of large slabs. We found one in the evening not far from our camp, so we opened it the following morning before starting. After a great deal of trouble with the pickaxes and crowbar nothing was found but bones. We measured the top stone, 6 feet 5 inches by 2 feet 10 inches and 1 foot 5 inches thick.
We next scrambled up a wooded mountain, steep enough, but nothing to the downward scramble. There was no particular road: one had to stick one's heels into trailing masses of sharp chips and blocks of red stone and let them slide as short a way as they would. The booted portion of our party began to feel great anxiety as to foot-gear. We wondered if our boots could possibly last to Tamarida where we had left a good deal of baggage, _i.e._ clothes that we had needed on the steamer. We used to apply the gums of various trees to the soles and toes to retard consumption. The camels sat down and slid, or looked as if they were doing so; the camel-men, holding the tails, nearly lay on their backs; but we reached the river safely, encamped there, and rode most of next day up a valley, crossing the water often. We had to wind in and out of clumps of trees, sometimes lying on our camels to get under branches, and finally, after going through thick woods, stopped at the foot of some mighty mountains.
Though many of our camps on Mount Haghier and the expeditions therefrom were very delightful, I think this one, called Yehazahaz, was decidedly the prettiest. It was low down on the southern slope of Mount Haghier; our tents were pitched in a grove of palm-trees at the meeting of two rushing streams; tangled vegetation hung around us on every side, and whichever way we looked we had glimpses of granite peaks and rugged hill-sides clad with dragon's-blood. The village was quite hidden by trees and creepers, but its inhabitants were away on the higher pasturage, and our men occupied the empty tenements.
We stayed there a couple of days, and the first evening as we were sitting in our tent after tea, a tremendous noise and shouting proceeded from the direction of our kitchen. This proved to be occasioned by the discovery of some long-suspected sugar thieves. They were the three youngest of our camel-drivers. They were all tied to a palm-tree with their arms round it, and Ammar began scourging them with a rope. I begged them off; my husband thought I had been foolish, particularly as the scourging had not been ordered by him. The boys certainly did not seem to mind it a bit. However, the elder men consulted and Ammar brought a rupee next morning as a fine, which my husband thought it right to accept.
The red mountains here assume a greyish-white appearance. The land shells seemed to grow larger on the tops of the mountains. We found some about 3 inches in length.
On leaving Yehazahaz there was no riding for us, but a climb afoot straight up a steep pass and down across a river and over a second pass. The way was mostly rough and through woods, but there were a few little grassy bits. We descended only about 100 feet and pitched our tents on a flattish, spongy piece of grass, near a pretty streamlet overhung with begonias and many other flowers, at a spot called Adahan, where a sort of pass winds its way between the granite peaks. We were encamped for several days at an elevation of close on 3,000 feet above the sea-level. Here, when the mist came down upon us, we were enveloped in clouds, rain, and wretchedness; but the air to us was cool and invigorating, though I fear our scantily clad attendants found it anything but agreeable.
There were drawbacks, too, to the enjoyment of our mountain camps in the shape of several kinds of pernicious grasses, which grew thickly round our tent, and the seeds of which penetrated relentlessly into everything. Grass thorns invaded our day and night raiment, getting into places hitherto deemed impregnable, and the prickly sensation caused by them was irritating to both body and mind.
From Adahan one could easily ascend to the highest ground; though perhaps one ought not to say easily, for climbing is no joke up here, through dense vegetation and rocky gullies. Looking down into the gorges, we enjoyed some splendid effects, and were constantly reminded of the Grand Corral of Madeira.
There were many trees and flowering shrubs, rocky needles, and pinnacles all around us, and a view of the ocean to the north; and by climbing up we could catch sight of the ocean to southward too.
My husband tried to ascend the highest peak in the island--Driate it is called by the Bedouin--but when he had gone as far as possible the peak soared above him about 400 feet sheer and impracticable, quite bare of vegetation. An Alpine Club would find plenty of amusement in Sokotra. The bottoms and sides of the valleys, filled with bulbous plants and rank vegetation, enormous dragon's-blood-trees, the long valleys of Fereghet and Yehazahaz winding their way to the coast, the rugged mass of Bit Molek, and the view over both seas make, my husband said, as interesting a natural view as it is possible to conceive. The clouds had fortunately rolled themselves up for the occasion.
We had, however, during our stay so much wet that we had a special fire to dine by, and by it a very rudely constructed clothes-horse to dry our dripping garments. Our kitchen fire was the constant resort of the Bedouin of the neighbourhood, coming to see us and bring provisions to sell. We had plenty of milk and one day bought a tiny calf for three rupees. The camel-men who skinned it tried to keep the head as their perquisite, but Matthaios secured it and put it in our soup. To our surprise the two Somali servants, Hashi and Mahmoud, would in consequence eat none of the soup nor any meat. They usually ate anything that was going.
A lame Bedou brought us some green oranges and potatoes, which were really the roots of a convolvulus: they were not bad when baked in the ashes, but hard when boiled. He also brought us a sweet herb which they use to stuff pillows with. The greetings of the Bedou always amuse us; they first put cheek to cheek and then rub noses in the most matter-of-fact way, so we may infer that this mode of salutation is in vogue in the Mahra country. It was pleasant to be among such friendly people, who had no horror of us and did not even seem much surprised at seeing us there, and to be able to go off quite alone for a scramble so safely.