CHAPTER XXII
The dreaded Tanezrouft — Camel saddles — The wells of Timissao — A valuable plant — A night march — An improvised shelter — Sandstorms — Enemies to sleep — Gloomy scenery — The water supply — An exhausting struggle — The wells of Ahnet — Instinct of the guides — Protecting the water-skins.
WHILE at In Ouzel I had to make a careful overhaul of my equipment. The portion of desert now close in front of me was the much-dreaded Tanezrouft, and a journey across it at any time of the year was not a thing to be lightly undertaken, but more especially was this the case during the hottest season.
The Tanezrouft extends between the 23rd and 26th parallels in the Central Sahara, forming a tract of desert in which there is no water, to all intents and purposes no grazing and, what is still more inconvenient in many ways, not even any firewood. The consequence is that all these necessaries must be carried for a distance of about 200 miles. The width of this waterless region varies in different parts, but at the point where I was going to cross it I must expect to take about seven days to accomplish the journey. This is a tract which must be crossed as rapidly as possible in order to reach the wells on the north side, for a camel in hot weather cannot exist more than about eight days without water; moreover, the water-skins are calculated to leak to the extent of one-tenth per diem, from which it is evident that a full water-skin would have lost the whole of its contents by the tenth day, even if none of the water in it had been drunk. It follows that any delay over and above seven days, in the passage of this dreary bit of desert, would be extremely perilous for the safety of the caravan.
From the above considerations it is obvious that it was imperative to be most careful that all details connected with the equipment and organization of the little caravan should be put into first-rate working order. It was unfortunate that I had been ill at this rather critical time, but I had in person seen to as much as possible, and had left everything else in the competent hands of Mahomed.
Broken saddles required to be repaired and thoroughly overhauled, girths had to be mended and renewed, water-skins must be carefully tested to see they did not leak more than the normal amount, while camels’ wounds had to be dressed. Besides, the whole of my kit really needed overhauling, but owing to the sandstorms constantly blowing, it was impossible to do this. Our greatest difficulty was with the saddles, for many of these had the wooden framework broken, and this required to be firmly lashed in order to make the saddle serviceable.
There are two or three different patterns of pack-saddle used in this part of the Sahara. The French-made one is much solider than the native article, but in some respects is less adapted for use with camels, and likely to give them a sore back if not carefully attended to. The French saddle, called the Gao pattern, consists of a wooden triangular frame, made of two horizontal bars on each side, which are connected by two transverse pieces at the sides, the apex of the triangle being formed by a further horizontal bar. This saddle fits on to the camel’s back on the top of two well-stuffed panels which are filled with cotton-wool. On the framework are fixed two iron hooks on each side, so that baggage can be slung on each side of the frame. In most cases the two panels are sewn together, a hole being cut in the middle to allow of the camel’s hump protruding. I found that the chief drawback to these saddles was that the panels were often not long enough; consequently, if a load was used which projected lower than the panel on the animal’s side, he was certain to get chafed by the constant friction of the article against his skin. I saw some nasty wounds which had been thus inflicted, and these were always difficult to heal.
The native type of saddle, called the “arrej” in Arabic, is a far simpler affair, made on the same principle but with two light pieces of bamboo fitting over each side of the camel, and connected by two diagonal bamboos. This saddle also is kept from pressing on the animal’s back by means of a cushion of date-palm fibre, while no girth whatever is used.
Owing to there being no girth, a very nice adjustment of loads is required to preserve the balance. I have seen some curious sights with this saddle, too, when a camel has been coming down hill. If he trots disaster is almost inevitable, for he jogs his saddle out of place, and equilibrium between the loads is lost, so that they fall to the ground, saddle and all.
Riding-saddles, called “rahla” in Arabic, are of two kinds—the Arabic and the Tuareg saddle. These simply consist of a round piece of wood for the seat, covered with leather, and a peak in front as well as one behind. In the case of the Tuareg “rahla,” which is by far the most comfortable, the peaks are higher and the seat wider in circumference. The shape of the peak in the Tuareg saddle is rather strange; it is in the form of a cross. The best of riding-saddles are hard and uncomfortable if the length of march is above the average. I used to fold a blanket over mine to soften somewhat the discomfort caused by the hard wood. I never saw a saddle of European manufacture, but have no doubt that something far more comfortable could easily be made.
At In Ouzel Mahomed got rid of the useless El Bashir, and in his place an Arab friend of his, called Othman, was engaged. The change was vastly for the better, and I now found things worked much more smoothly. It appeared that Othman and Mahomed had been partners in business some time previously, so it was a great stroke of luck to find him there. It was really essential to have at least two men with the camels, for if one animal strays while grazing there is someone left to look after the remainder. As it was, my servant Musa assisted a great deal in collecting the camels from their pasturage when we were about to start on a march.
I was more than thankful to leave In Ouzel. My experiences of the place had been so disagreeable that I hated the sight of it. As soon as we once more got on the march my spirits rose again and things assumed a brighter hue.
It was the 22nd of May when we left In Ouzel. Game now was very scarce, and for about the next ten days I saw nothing more than two or three Loder’s gazelle in the distance.
We had a march of about ninety miles to the wells of Timissao, which were on the southern limits of the Tanezrouft; but as we approached this dreaded region the desert became more and more forbidding in its aspect. We were now descending rapidly from the elevated plateau of Adrar to the plain of the Tanezrouft. On the east was a rocky mass of hills called the Jibal el Tirik, and at the foot of these there was a small well, but it was nearly dry when we reached it. There is hardly any grazing-land in this part, so that it never boasts of even a nomad population. It is absolutely deserted. From the Tirik hills we passed along a sandy valley between two parallel ranges of rocky hills for a distance of about forty miles. The sand here was not like that at In Ouzel, but resembled the sand in the south of Adrar. It was as hard and as level as a running-track. Walking on it was very easy, and I used to march six or seven hours without feeling the slightest fatigue. In this valley the colouring at sunset was beautiful. As the sun went down and its crimson rays faded into a more subdued colour, the rocky hills were bathed in a lovely deep purple light, creating an effect many an artist would give a great deal to have an opportunity of depicting on canvas.
The last eight miles of the march to Timissao lay across the range of hills which had formed our right flank coming up the valley. This again was a new kind of desert scenery. Here there was not a vestige of sand to be seen. Nothing but bare rocks and huge boulders strewed the way. Marching was difficult for men and beasts, and at times there seemed every prospect of losing some of the animals down the precipitous sides of a rocky gully. Camels, unless specially trained to it, are by no means surefooted on rough ground; frequently one would clumsily place his foot on a loose boulder and only recover himself with difficulty. After a long and excessively hot march we eventually arrived at the well of Timissao. The well lay in a sandy “oued,” which suddenly emerged to view as we clambered to the top of the rocky ridge above it.
A few shrubs of “ethel” were scattered along the sides of the “oued,” and as we arrived a young Loder’s gazelle peered at us with inquisitive eyes, astonished at this unwonted intrusion of his desert haunts.
The well of Timissao, the last we were to see for a week, had the best water I had tasted since leaving Kidal. It was beautifully clear and fresh, so unlike the wells of Adrar in this respect. A big ledge of rock projected from the cliff hard by, under which I ensconced myself for the day. But after breakfast there was plenty to be done. We had to water all the camels, and must ensure their drinking their fill before commencing the fatiguing march across the Tanezrouft.
In the sand was made a long, narrow drinking-trough, lined with stones, so as to facilitate the drinking operations. By this means we could water some half-dozen camels at a time.
Mahomed and Othman were stripped to the waist, busily engaged in filling up the trough, as the thirsty beasts emptied it, with buckets full of water, drawn up in the “delou” from the well. It was a curious sight to watch the animals’ sides swelling to huge dimensions as they drank. I would notice a camel, apparently thin and wasting away, with his ribs all showing, come up to the trough, and after his drink he would look positively sleek and fat. When camels do drink they are greedy drinkers.
An animal consumes from eight to ten gallons at a time. But to allow him to drink all he is capable of, it is necessary to let him return two, if not three times to the trough. After drinking three or four gallons he will withdraw, and should be allowed to return in a couple of hours or so for a further ration of water, and so on till he is satisfied. For this reason it is advisable to commence the watering in the morning, in order to finish in one day. Further, camels are naturally thirstier, and drink better, when the sun is hot, than they will do at night. Watering was not thoroughly finished till 3 p.m., and Mahomed was anxious to get the caravan under way that same afternoon, so as to delay the passage of the Tanezrouft as little as possible. Accordingly the camels were loaded up with the baggage as soon as they left the water-side. A very different appearance did they present now they had satisfied their thirst to the utmost. I have no doubt they realized they were now going to be called on to undertake a tougher job than usual, and so must be well provided with their reserve of water for the occasion.
On quitting the well of Timissao we at once entered on the Tanezrouft. Quickly leaving the rocky hills behind us, we emerged on to a bleak, arid waste, consisting apparently of a vast plain of hard sand, with, on the east, a faint line of hills in the far distance. These hills marked the southern part of the Hoggar country, a land in which the nomads are Tuaregs, of whom I heard and saw more later on. Our way lay almost due north, across this seemingly endless, inhospitable plain of sand. We were now carrying water, food, and wood for the needs of the whole caravan, both for men and beasts. The wood we had collected with some difficulty on the march that morning early, and it chiefly consisted of dried-up mimosa twigs, but this was supplemented by a dried-up plant which is found in the Sahara, called “harta” in Arabic, or “aresou” in Tuareg. The latter fuel is a most useful article, being quite invaluable in many parts of the Sahara, where trees and shrubs are not found. It is a plant to which the camels are very partial when in flower, but when dried up it resembles a bunch of withered twigs.
About 7 p.m. we halted for the evening meal. There was to be little sleep for anyone the next seven days. The halt to-night only lasted till the moon rose, and then we were off once more. That night we marched from about 9 p.m. till dawn, without a halt. For the first time for months I saw a cloudy sky. The night was very dark, as the moon became obscured behind the clouds soon after she rose. It was a marvel to me how Mahomed found the way. Even had the route been a clearly defined track it would have been none too easy on such a night. But these desert guides seem to be gifted with almost supernatural powers of vision, and I never saw him hesitate once. I walked, as I found it was the only way to keep awake. When I felt a little tired I mounted my camel, but soon became drowsy and began to nod; then I felt myself falling off the animal’s back, and just woke in time to avoid a disaster. It was a long way from the camel’s back to the ground. A fall would have possibly involved a broken leg, so I decided to choose the lesser of the two evils and dismount again.
I was not sorry when the day began to dawn. At any rate, it was now light and possible to see one’s surroundings. We now halted for ten minutes, while the devout Mohammedans said their prayers. It was a picturesque sight to watch these men turn their faces to the pink flush in the eastern sky and kneel piously on the desert sand while they uttered the morning prayer, bowing themselves every now and again to the ground in obeisance to their God. After this short halt we marched on till the sun grew too hot, about 11 a.m. From 11 till 2 p.m. we again halted, although it can hardly be said that we rested. The heat was suffocating. There was no shade anywhere. The only possible hope of getting a little shelter from the direct rays of the sun was to rig up a tente d’abri of some description. I had long ago given up using my own tent for this purpose; and in the Tanezrouft, where one was fatigued after a long march under trying conditions, it was still less practicable to pitch it.
I improvised a tiny shelter with a waterproof sheet, to the ends of which were attached four strings. Making use of a couple of short bamboos, or sometimes of my rifles in the daytime, when there seemed no chance of danger, to support this sheet, I succeeded in contriving a small place in which I could sit down. The height was sufficient to permit of my keeping my sun-helmet on my head while in the sitting position, and the length was enough to allow me to stretch my legs to their full extent and yet be thoroughly protected from the sun. The four ends were tied by their strings to articles of baggage.
My “house” was certainly better than nothing, but it can hardly be said that it was comfortable. My position was cramped and tiring, while the heat inside was very oppressive. A further inconvenience, and the worst of all, was that, when a sandstorm arose, I was exposed to it from two sides. It was impossible to make the covering air-tight enough to keep out the clouds of sand. I tried to close all openings with my available blankets, but the result was very poor, and in the end I had to resign myself to the inevitable and get “sanded” patiently!
The sandstorms were very frequent in the Tanezrouft, and much worse than I had hitherto experienced. The days succeeded one another without great variation in the monotony, for except for the degree of violence in the sandstorms, one day was almost exactly the counterpart of another.
These sandstorms were really the most horrible feature of that dreaded waterless desert. The storm would begin with little warning. All of a sudden in the distance there would appear a dense greyish yellow cloud, whirling rapidly towards us from the distant horizon. This was preceded by an intensely hot wind, resembling somewhat the hot-air blast from a furnace when the doors are opened. This hot wind carried with it countless scattered particles of sand, the scouts, as it were, of the storm which was following, and sent on to find out what human beings or animals were there to become the object of its attack. This preliminary wind, with its accompanying sand, was a mere bagatelle. The real trial was to follow. Close on its heels came the sandstorm—a whirling, densely packed bank of sand, hurrying forward at a headlong pace, blinding and overpowering everything with which it came in contact.
Before one of these terrible storms it is impossible to stand up without the danger of being overcome. The only plan is to fall on the ground and cover up your face, lying there until the storm is past. The camels instinctively do the same. They know, even quicker than a man, when a sandstorm is coming, and prostrate themselves before it arrives. These sandstorms are awful things, to which even the most experienced and philosophical of Arabs never get used. Instead of cooling the air, they seem to make it hotter. The heat when a sandstorm is about is remarkably oppressive. Just before and after a storm of this description the sun is seen through a haze, reminding the spectator of the appearance it has in London on a foggy day. Of course, while the storm is raging no sun is to be seen. Indeed, the air is so thick with sand that it is impossible to see more than a few yards. Moreover, the person who raises his head when a really bad storm is raging is foolhardy in the extreme.
My Servant Musa in the Sahara
This faithful Hausa servant accompanied me uncomplainingly through the hardships of nearly two months’ desert travel. It will be noticed that his garments are rather the worse for wear, and, indeed, he was in a far more deplorable condition in this respect by the time we reached Insalah. He, like myself, was obliged to adopt the “litham,” to prevent the blinding and choking effects of the sand.
Besides making one’s eyes very sore and mouth very parched in spite of every precaution, I found that it made my nose bleed, so great was the irritation caused by the gritty particles of sand. It was rare to have a sandstorm at night. I recollect only one case, and in that instance it was not very severe. These storms usually sprang up about 9 a.m., and raged discontinuously until 5 or 6 p.m.
It was bad enough for me, but in many ways I pitied the unfortunate Musa most. He, after a long, weary night march, was perhaps trying to cook my simple repast at midday, when a sandstorm would come up with its usual impetuosity and bury everything in oceans of sand. I must have eaten gallons of sand on this portion of my trek. I often marvelled that it did not make me ill, but I never noticed any unpleasant effects except for the disagreeable taste at the time.
During these fatiguing days I found it impossible to sleep at the midday halt, tired though I was. The discomfort of the interior of my shelter, even when it was not enveloped in a sand-cloud, was so great that sleep was out of the question. I always longed to start on our weary way once more. But the camels had to rest, and the Arabs and Musa appeared to find no difficulty in slumbering, for which I heartily envied them. The only time I managed to sleep was during the short rest in the evening after dinner. The hour of our departure at night varied with the time of moonrise, but the evening rest rarely exceeded two to three hours. Altogether we used to march about eighteen hours out of the twenty-four.
Even when sleeping in the Sahara it behoves the traveller to have one eye open, for there is always the fear of possible attack from desert robbers. I used to be very particular at night to secure the safety of the camp as far as I could. On arriving at the halting-place the camels were formed in a small circle, each one depositing its load at the spot where it had halted. A miniature zariba of baggage was thus formed. At the rear end of this I would have my bed pitched, and never went to sleep without having my two rifles loaded by my side. Danger in the desert generally coming from the rear, I was in a position to meet it at once, for I am a light sleeper. I could not depend on the Arabs or my servant to keep watch in turns, as I had previously intended them to do. In any case in the Tanezrouft the men were generally so weary that it was almost impossible not to drop asleep.
On the 29th of May, the fourth day of our journey through the Tanezrouft, the monotonous stretch of sandy plain which we had seen without interruption since leaving Timissao, gave way to a different nature of scenery. The country now became rocky and hilly. Barren, rugged peaks of isolated hills appeared. These rocks were of granite, split and cracked into hundreds of clefts by the action of the powerful sun. Although the sandy plains we had been crossing until now were dreary, desolate expanses, yet, in some ways, the gaunt, gloomy rocks before us were suggestive of a terrible loneliness too. On those gloomy but scorching hill-sides there existed no living thing. That parched-up land of desolation was the home of eternal death. The tops of the rugged peaks rose some three or four hundred feet above the surrounding plain, and I dare say, if some enterprising person cared to climb to the top, he would have a view over the whole Tanezrouft from one side to another, for the atmosphere is extraordinarily clear when no sandstorm is blowing.
This rocky spot in the centre almost of the Tanezrouft is known as In Zize. We were to camp on the other side of these hills at noon that day, and as we marched we saw some human skulls and the skeletons of three or four camels. The ghastly remains of some lost caravan. The bones, and in some cases the skins, were perfectly preserved. Here there were no vultures or wild animals to feast on the bodies, nor was there any damp to rot the skin. It was not difficult to surmise how this caravan came to perish. In the desert it is nearly always the same story. Either through losing their way, or an accident to the water supply, a caravan struggles on until it is exhausted and dies of thirst.
After quitting this place of rocks the desert resumed its former appearance. The interminable stretches of hard sand seemed to extend into infinity. As a rule it was flat as a billiard table, but here and there could be seen a small sandy mound or undulation which probably served as a landmark to the guide. Our daily marches averaged forty-eight kilometres, about thirty miles. As the camel is a slow marcher when laden, and sandstorms greatly interrupted progress, the distance covered was considerable. Besides, the animals were now weary and had some difficulty in maintaining even their usual pace. I was obliged to discard some of my baggage, chiefly ammunition, heads, and “couscous,” in order to lighten the loads. The water supply was lightening itself with alarming rapidity, and required a watchful eye. Musa was the chief, and indeed the only, offender. The negro is used to drinking a great deal of water, being ignorant of the virtue of self-control in this matter. I several times caught him taking surreptitious draughts at the water-skins, and had to check him severely. The heat, and thirst engendered by it, were certainly intense, so that I could not help secretly sympathizing with him, although it was necessary to be harsh. The daily ration of water was doled out twice a day—at the midday halt, and again in the evening—and at no other time was anyone allowed to touch the water supply.
Each day passed in the same fatiguing, wearisome manner. Long, exhausting night marches, a halt in the midst of heat and discomfort, followed by further marching in the afternoon, until, by the evening halt we were dead beat. And all the time, at short intervals, we had those horrible sandstorms. At night, while marching, it is true, we were exempt from the trials of a sandstorm, but by that time we were so tired that we marched sullenly on more like machines than men. The trials of those days in the Tanezrouft are not easily to be forgotten. Sometimes I used to wonder if there would be any end to it. The place in my imagination conjured up ideas of what the infernal regions must be like. A continual struggling forward with endless difficulties to contend against. To all intents and purposes no rest, a thirst that could never be quenched, and an utter distaste for the monotonous diet of dates and “couscous” well mixed with sand!
I often now wonder how one got through those weary days. When we halted in the daytime, as I could not sleep I used to attempt to write and work up my notes, but the discomfort was so great that the work I got through did not amount to much. Towards the end the water we had to drink was so disgusting, owing to the time it had lain in the water-skin, that the only way I could drink mine was in the form of tea. Fortunately I was well provided with tea all through my Sahara trek, and I used my ration of fuel in order to boil water for tea.
My Arab Guide, Mahomed-Ben-Kaid-Kaddour
This man, to whose skill and endurance I am indebted for safely crossing some eight hundred miles of the Sahara wastes, was a typical, hardy desert wanderer. With a cupful of water and a handful of dates as his daily ration he would bear the scorching heat and suffocating sandstorms without showing any signs of fatigue.
On the sixth day we crossed a series of parallel ridges of sand-hills. The sand here was, of course, quite soft, and the camels’ feet used to sink several inches deep into it. These sand-hills appeared to stretch as far as the eye could reach to the west, and possibly have some connection with the hills of moving sand known as Amool Gragim, which lie to the north of the desert salt-mines of Taudeny.
On the evening of the 1st of June, just before sunset, we arrived at the wells of Ahnet, having, to everyone’s joy, at last emerged from the desolate wastes of the Tanezrouft. Here there was fair pasturage for the camels, and everyone was in need of a rest, so I halted for a day and a half.
Some of our animals were in a bad condition. The march had been more than usually trying owing to the heat, and to the fact that caravans so rarely travel at this time of year in consequence. A feeling of satisfaction came over me at the thought that the worst was now over, for the strain of the last few days had been almost intolerable.
One of the most marvellous things about desert travel in the Sahara is the extraordinary instinct for finding the way possessed by the guides, and already referred to.
For miles and miles on the Tanezrouft there was, as far as I could see, no landmark of any description to assist Mahomed, yet he never erred. On this vast plain it would be extremely easy to miss a well, for an error of a few minutes in direction, when prolonged over a distance of about 133 miles, would bring the caravan to a point many miles away from the well on one flank or the other. For this very reason a compass is not of much use in desert travelling. The guide’s knowledge and instinct must alone be relied upon. Of course, the sun and stars give a good guide a very fair indication of his direction, but as I have just hinted, a greater degree of accuracy than this is imperative, for, surrounding a well, for many miles there are probably no landmarks to help the guide, and the well itself can usually not be seen till it is actually reached.
Towards the end of the Tanezrouft Mahomed’s sight began to get weak. He had probably strained his eyes by continually gazing at the far-distant horizon. I gave him some lotion from my small stock of medicines which did him good in a few days.
In the desert one of the commonest diseases, if not the only one observed in this healthy region, is ophthalmia. It is said to be produced by the sand which is always in motion in the atmosphere. Grown-up people and children alike suffer from it.
Our chief source of anxiety was always the water. The skins, or “guerbas,” in which this is carried are extremely susceptible to injury. Thorns, which are so common in the Sahara, penetrate the soft goatskin with ease, causing a puncture which very soon empties the bag of its precious liquid. For this reason great precautions are necessary, when a halt is made, that the water-skins shall not be placed on the bare ground on being taken off the camel’s back. It is essential to place something firm underneath. Further, the “guerba” should be covered over in the daytime to prevent it from perspiring unduly on account of the heat. In the desert one gets to care for one’s water supply with extraordinary solicitude. But this is hardly to be wondered at, since it is the very soul of existence there.
These water-skins each carry about six gallons when full. They resemble the “mussock” of the Indian “bhisti,” and have one end left unsewn to act as a mouthpiece. This end is tied up with string on the march. The “guerba” is slung, by means of a rope attached to two of its corners, across the hooks on the pack-saddle. At first I used to carry a water-bottle on my own camel, but latterly I rejected this in favour of a small “guerba,” which carried about a gallon of water and kept it far cooler. I never used a filter, and sometimes was obliged to drink the most filthy water, which under ordinary circumstances one would not have washed in. I must say that I seldom felt any ill-effects for long, after drinking this unwholesome stuff, and can only attribute it to the fact that one keeps in marvellously good health in that dry atmosphere.