[4] Radde is almost certainly in error in making the pass of Karakaya, which is the shortest route, over 9500 feet high (Petermann’s Mitth., 1876, p. 141). [↑]
[5] Monteith (Kars and Erzeroum, pp. 85, 168, 173 seq.). Haxthausen informs us that “not one Turk accepted his life—every man remained dead upon the spot” (Transcaucasia, p. 100). He had received the story in this truly Oriental form. [↑]
CHAPTER VI
PROSPECT FROM ABUL
East of the town of Akhalkalaki, which almost touches the long train of the western slope, a bold mass of mountain features the landscape, square-seated on the floor of the plateau (Fig. [20]). It rises to a height of nearly 11,000 feet; but this imposing altitude is shorn of half its grandeur by the lofty levels of the adjacent plain (5500–6000 feet). Still the mountain overpowers all the surrounding outlines; the summit overlooks the neighbouring heights. When we had issued from the chasm of the Toporovan river and gained the surface of the plateau, our first thought was to ascend this elevated viewing-stage, and command the flat expanse, bordered by dim and distant ranges, which was now unfolded before us on every side.
Fig. 20. Mount Abul from Akhalkalaki.
Horses were impressed on the morning after our arrival to take us to the foot of the higher slopes. We were informed that it was necessary to make the half-circuit of the mountain and to start climbing on the eastern side. But why reject the tempting gradients of the nearer western slope, sweeping towards you with a succession of harmonious curves? Yet where obtain a satisfactory answer to this question? The actual experiment might involve the loss of a day. So we bowed to the decision of our native conductor, and became reconciled to the long ride. Mile after mile the great plain stretched to the westward, a solid sea, patched in places with fallow and stubble, but treeless, without a hedge, without a boundary of any kind. We were approaching the stony confines of the mountainous zone which borders the plateau on the east. The wretched village of Abul rears its stacks of cow-dung fuel among a waste of stones.
Seen from the side of Akhalkalaki, the mountain presents the appearance of a composite mass. A long trough mounts to the summit region, dividing the fabric into two halves. Each half is crowned by a well-defined summit; that on the south is single of form and considerably lower, its loftier neighbour on the north appears to possess two peaks. In reality this double peak conceals a third fang, which is prominent on the eastern side. The three-fanged summit communicates with its less elevated neighbour by a lofty col, the uppermost edge of the trough. The slopes of Abul display the volcanic origin of the mountain, and descend in long-drawn outlines to the plain. The lengthiest declines westwards from the more northerly summit, and has the shape of a long back or ridge. The steepest is the slope just beneath this summit, facing north; it is inclined at an angle of 30 degrees. The village of Abul is situated to the south of the western slope, and would present a convenient starting-point from which its easy gradients might be scaled. Our guide, however, assured us, I cannot conceive upon what foundation, that the ascent would occupy two days. So we left the village to skirt the base of the southern half of the mountain, of which the sides have a gradient of 18 degrees. Rounding the mass, we were able to reach on horseback some grassy uplands of the further slopes. This favourable nature of the ground extends to a considerable elevation, and had probably been the inducement which had influenced our leader to bring us such a long way. From these pastures it was a climb of one and a half hours over the rocks to the pinnacles of the loftiest and most northerly mass. We sent the horses back, with directions to meet us on the further side, since we had decided to descend by the western ridge.