Rising gradually, we soon leave the terrace behind us, and our attention is directed to the interesting features on the outside. Below us, from the eastern margin of the plain of Mush, rises a volcanic mass of imposing proportions, almost flat and slightly hollow at the top. A number of little conical summits emerge from the platform, and the mountain is thickly covered with brush. The slopes on all sides, except towards Nimrud, appear extremely abrupt. It is separated by a little upland plain from the sides of the crater; and it is clear that the mass has acted like a dam to the flows of molten matter. It has turned them in the direction of Tadvan, as well as towards the plain of Mush. My people confirmed the name under which I have already made it known (Ch. VII. [Fig. 150]). It is called the Kerkür Dagh.
I have also alluded in a former place (ibid.) to the little parasite cone, high up on the outer wall of the crater on the south. Passing it now from above, it looms much larger; and it is succeeded, lower down, by quite a series of volcanic vents. These are all in the same line with the more pronounced feature, and roughly in the same line with the dike and crater on the north of Nimrud. Rising always higher, we make our way with some caution along an edge which has become knife-like in character. Indeed it is in places not more than 8 or 10 feet wide. On our left hand descend the vertical walls of the crater; on our right a slope of about 30° seems scarcely less precipitous to the eye. The lavas descend with bold bastions towards Tadvan. The highest point on this side of the crater is on this edge; it has an elevation of 9430 feet.
The view embraces the wild ridges of the Kurdish mountains on the south, capped with snow on their topmost peaks. Trees in a hollow and a winding road among the recesses of that barrier are recognised as marking the site of Bitlis. Below us lies the wooded platform of the Kerkür Dagh; the plateau of lava, between the plain of Mush and the shores of the great lake, appears to shelve with gentle gradients towards those waters. We discern the verdure about the village of Tadvan. In the north we may descry both summits of the Bingöl ridge; while the dome of the Kuseh Dagh is a bold, vague presence in the sky. From this lofty portion of the crater wall the descent is rapid and continuous to the beds of pumice which cloak it up on the east. We again overlook the beautiful inlets of Lake Van. We avail ourselves of a track which leads from Tadvan into the caldron (e), in order to reach our camp. The outline of the circle of cliffs again rises a little between this point and the track from Akhlat.
I have taken my reader a long ride, round the vast circumference of the crater—an excursion which, when presented in the form of a narrative, may be too tedious for his taste. Let me therefore endeavour to present in a summary manner some of the conclusions which were engendered in our minds. Faithful to the laws of eruptive volcanic agency, this huge crater has arisen on the margin of a great depression of the surface of the tableland. In spite of the considerable difference in their present elevation, the lake of Van and the plain of Mush may be regarded as parts of a single basin. Indeed it is mainly due to the emissions of lava from Nimrud that the lake is now separated from the plain. The region on the north of the crater is considerably higher, though in closer connection with the lake than with the plain. Nature has produced this manifestation of violence in the stress of her effort to complete a harmonious design. The curving over of the great lines of mountain-making has resulted in this explosion of forces, usually under control. But as we make our way in silence beneath the stillness of the night, threading the chaos of tumultuous forms on the floor of the crater, we may yet reflect upon the relative insignificance of such violent action, even in a country where it has operated on so great a scale. The stratified rocks are seldom wholly absent in the landscapes, as they are wanting to the savage landscape of the Nimrud caldron; and, when you think you are admiring the long train of a volcano, a closer inspection reveals slowly-built, sedimentary mountains, upon which the volcano has been reared. Nature has preferred regularity of achievement, a quality reflected by the moral sense of Man.[4]
[1] The accuracy of the results obtained with our Steward telemeter was well tested on Nimrud by these cross-readings from salient points along the edge of the crater. The principal credit, however, for the excellent measurements, taken under great difficulties, owing to the uneven surface of the ground, is due to Captain Elliot, who was ably seconded by Mr. Oswald. [↑]
[2] Among craters similar in character to Nimrud the best comparison would seem to be afforded by the Crater Lake of Oregon (Cascade range). The average diameter of this crater is a little more than 5½ miles, and while the inner slopes around the lake are precipitous, those facing outwards to the platform upon which the crater is reared are gentle. The highest point is 8200 feet above the sea, and the lake has a depth of 2000 feet (see J. S. Diller, American Journal of Science, 1897, p. 165). The well-known craters in the Sandwich Islands are much smaller than Nimrud, the largest, Kilauea, having a maximum diameter of 2½ miles. [↑]
[3] Or it may merely represent the terminal walls of lava streams. [↑]
[4] A single paragraph in an article by Major Clayton, R.A., entitled “The Mountains of Kurdistan” (Alpine Journal, Aug. 1887), is the only account known to me of the interior of the Nimrud crater. Brant confines himself to the following grotesque description (Journal R.G.S. 1840, vol. x. p. 378):—“The Nimrud range (sic) runs nearly north and south, but at its southern extremity is terminated by a cross range (sic), called the Kerkú Tágh, running east and west.” [↑]