Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

This country, which is really the Eastern Adrar, is generally known as the Adrar of the Iforas, to differentiate between it and Western Adrar, a country in south-west Mauretania, and Adrar Oasis in the Northern Sahara. The word Adrar merely means mountain in the language of the Tuareg.

The plateau of Adrar is about 200 miles long and seventy wide. It consists generally of rocky hills running in parallel ranges from north to south. In certain parts the granite rock has been split up by the action of the heat, leaving isolated jagged crags which stick up in fantastic shapes. The valleys between these hills usually possess pasturage for camels and sheep, for Adrar of the Iforas is on the whole a well-watered country; that is to say, it boasts of periodical rains, which consist of some six or seven tornadoes in the year. The Iforas for this reason are more fortunate than many nomad tribes of the desert, who have to seek much farther afield for a change in their grazing-lands. The valleys in which are found the “oueds” are generally sandy bottomed, in sharp contrast to the rest of the country, which is rocky. Roughly speaking, such was the nature of the country through which I was going to march for the first portion of the way to Insalah.

At Kidal I at last resigned myself to parting with my travelling bath. It was a great wrench to have to discard this luxury, but I had, by bitter experience, found out that it was not a practical article in the Sahara. On the way from Gao I had only on two occasions been able to indulge in the joys of a tub, owing to the scarcity of water in most of the wells. Moreover, the bath was a most cumbersome load on a camel, and more than once had it suffered a severe fall, when some infuriated beast had managed to rid himself of this troublesome piece of baggage by dint of repeatedly rubbing against his companions, while kicking and wriggling at the same time. The net result of all this was not only damage to the bath, but probably a sore back for the animal. So I presented the bath to my host as a slight return for his hospitality to me.

At Kidal I managed to buy a sackful of dates from an Arab trader who was doing a little business with the soldiers of the detachment. These dates were invaluable on the march. They are very portable and nourishing, although hardly appetizing. Indeed, I ate so many dates in the Sahara, and generally dates of the coarsest quality, that I hate the sight of a date to this day. My dates were packed together in a bag, crushed in a solid, consistent mass. They were so hard that many required a hammer to break them. I found the best plan, when there was not time to cook them, or no water, was to simply suck one at a time. If I tried to bite one it might easily break my teeth, so I gave up trying. In any case I was very glad to be able to buy dates here, for my stock of provisions, except the “couscous” and rice, was growing beautifully but rapidly less. Of “couscous” and rice I had plenty, but I had not yet got to the stage of being content with only these simple forms of food.

Before starting on the second stage of my desert journey I had thoroughly to overhaul my pack-saddles and the gear appertaining thereto. I had now gained some experience of the Sahara, and knew better the parts of equipment that were most likely to get strained. I also took the precaution to have a large reserve of ropes, girths, and such-like articles. My water-carriers were nearly all in bad need of repair, and this was a point requiring careful attention. A good reserve of these water-skins was essential.

The French have now a courier who goes at stated times from Kidal to Insalah and back. The next courier was to take word of my approach to the Commandant at Insalah, so that he might expect my arrival about the beginning or middle of June. This courier is a Tuareg, who has been procured with some difficulty to carry out this service. He travels alone, for it has been found that he is less likely to be interfered with if he does so. His mount is a swift-trotting camel, and in the dry season he has a spare mount as well. I was informed that the mails were rarely looted, as, of course, there is nothing of any value to a desert highwayman in a mail bag. His efforts would be more likely to be directed to stealing the camel than the mails, but one individual well mounted has a good chance of escaping in such a case.

The mail man followed a different line of wells from my proposed route, so I was unlikely to see him on the way.

On leaving Kidal I dare say my host pitied me at having such a long, lonely journey in front of me. For my part I could not help pitying him far more, for I was embarking on new and possibly stirring experiences, while he, poor fellow, was all alone as far as Europeans were concerned, tied down for two years of duty in one of the most dreary of French military posts. He had his work to occupy him, it is true, but how monotonous must continual service in a Saharan post be, more especially when a man is the only representative of his race within nearly 200 miles. Far away from kith and kin, living in a region almost apart from what is known as “the world,” where life is hard, food scarce and bad, and surrounded on all sides by the barren wastes of the desert. His life was not without a large element of danger, moreover; for a well-organized marauding band might easily wipe out his small detachment, and the news would not reach the Niger until the raiders had made good their escape. But perhaps it was this element of danger which lent some excitement to his life and made it more tolerable. I must freely confess that he was a young man who enjoyed capital spirits, and was as cheerful and versatile as is usual with his countrymen.

After leaving Kidal on the 8th of May, my route lay almost due north for a considerable way. Wells were on the average fifty miles apart on this stage, that is to say, through the Adrar of the Iforas; but some of the wells had so much potash in them that the water was quite undrinkable.