When we reached the pass, we were standing on the edge of an undulating plateau, and were still within the zone of the limestones. A slight descent from this point brought us almost immediately to a shallow but very extensive depression. It had, in fact, the appearance of a vast plain, somewhat of an oval, with an axis roughly from east to west. In the latter direction we could see the plain tonguing into the limestones, or, in other words, the almost latitudinal limestone ridges sinking into the plain. But these were dwarfed in the east by the flows of lava from Sipan, of which the huge frame was now fully exposed. In particular a bold stream plunged down from the summit region, ending in dark, precipitous sides. About in the centre of the depression lay a little lake, fringed by marshes, and bordered by a deep belt of what appeared to be a white efflorescence adhering to its shores. It was the Jil Göl (lake of rushes), once of considerably greater extent. A village, just a speck at the western extremity of the bold ridge of lava, was identified as Uran Gazi. Behind us the limestones stood up like a wall, screening the lake of Van.
Except for the marshes, there was not a trace of verdure in a landscape devoid of trees or even of bush. Far and wide, the surface of the plain was broken only by mounds or gullies—the mounds heaped up with blocks of black lava, the gullies doubly darkened by the same material. Indeed the whole depression has been covered with lava, probably to some considerable depth. Its elevation above sea-level is not much less than 7700 feet.[3] These lavas, which must have been of a liquid nature, may have been, in part, emitted from the volcano during its infancy, but have largely issued from fissures in the plain. Flooding into the limestones, they compose such a lofty pedestal that the volcano somewhat loses height. The climber is not ungrateful for their help.
In another three-quarters of an hour we reached Uran Gazi, and were received by two Circassian notables, resident in the village, Murad Effendi and Shakir Effendi. I think I have already observed upon the superiority of the Circassian villages to those of their neighbours, Armenians or Kurds. The bread they make is eatable; fair cheese can be obtained; the tenements are much more solidly built. Great stacks of hay had already been collected against the winter. The Circassian skirted coat and the Circassian cap are still worn; and, indeed, this people cling to all the customs of their native country, from which the Russians have compelled them to wander out. Of our two hosts, Murad was in the prime of life; while Shakir, although advanced in years and with snow-white hair, still retained his vigour and vivacity. It is the vivacity of the Circassians which is so impressive in the moral sphere, just as in the physical sphere it is the brilliance of their eyes. Murad Effendi buckled to, with the result that in an hour and a half all was prepared for the start. Tezek fuel for the fire, and hay for the horses, and for ourselves a lamb and several chickens—such were the burdens which were ready for the shoulders of the porters, four of whom had already arrived.
Fig. 187. Village of Uran Gazi with Sipan.
The position of the village, at the extremity of the bold ridge of lava ([Fig. 187]), may be taken as representing the furthest westerly extension of the flows of lava from the volcano, as we see it now. The ridge itself has an axis of about west-south-west. At four o’clock we made our way along its southern margin, up the broad valley by which it is separated from similar outliers on the south. The caterjis, with the packs, followed this valley to its head; but our guides, whether from knowledge of the ground or from mere impatience, were not long before they led us right up the wall of the ridge. Dismounting, we dragged our horses over the rocky surface, at considerable peril to their legs. The summit was, however, almost perfectly flat; and, although the upward slope and the craggy nature of the ground rendered progress rather arduous and slow, the breadth of the ridge enabled us to pick a way. In this manner we struggled on for about an hour, when, at six o’clock, I called a halt. The caterjis were not in sight, and, when last we had espied them, they were still in the trough of the valley. There they would have remained, with our tents and baggage, knowing well that we must come to them. I sent an officer with instructions to bring them up by force; and, after waiting until night, we were at length rejoiced by their arrival, and encamped on a stretch of sward below a large patch of snow. Our elevation was 10,300 feet.
August 4.—The ascent of Sipan offers no difficulties whatever at this season, and is, indeed, a delightful excursion. There is the joy of awaking to a landscape so inspiring—such a wide segment of a circle, almost without limits on the horizon, framed by the heights descending upon either side. From the rocky island of the Kartevin to the western slopes of the Nimrud crater, an immense region is outspread at our feet. Flatness of outline is the almost universal characteristic; and the marble peaks of the Akh Dagh, conspicuous even at this distance, are at once an exception and a solecism. Further west, the view extends to the even ridge of the Bingöl Dagh, flecked about the centre with snow. Nearer masses of imposing aspect are Bilejan and Khamur; an unknown mountain, which, later in our journey, we came to know as Kolibaba, rising with lesser proportions between the two. But the plains outdo the mountains, resembling a wide sea—although surely no sea can be surrounded by such commanding objects. The treeless, yellow surface commences deep below us, and stretches without a break to the Kartevin. Low ridges come edging towards it from the block of limestones, which, in the west, appears to encircle the lake of Nazik, and to divide it from that of Gop. The outline of the block grows in height towards Lake Van.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon before we were ready to start upwards, turning our backs upon this scene, and on foot. The ten porters carry our flying tent and our wraps, besides a little tezek fuel for our camp fire, and four long poles for taking measurements. They perform their work in an admirable manner, never grumbling and never stopping to talk. Their features betray their Armenian origin, although they are Mussulmans. The westerly eminence of the summit region towers high above us; but there is no beach of boulders to impede our progress, like upon Ararat, and no causeways to circumvent. The tops of the streams of lava are always fairly level, although they are rocky at the sides. They consist of a basic augite-andesite, with conchoidal fractures, which grows more glassy as you approach the higher region. Stretches of grass are not infrequent, watered by the melted snow. Little runnels descend the slope with a pleasant, gurgling sound, but cease to flow when the sun goes down. In three-quarters of an hour we open out Lake Van, the ridges collecting towards the summit circle. The gradient of the slope is now 33½°, the highest registered on this side of Sipan. We are above and among large patches of snow. But the going is very easy, the ground being covered with turf and flowers. It is quite a little garden of forget-me-nots and pink daisies and buttercups and campanulas. These raise their heads above an undergrowth of pearl-wort. There is no juniper or yellow immortelle to be seen. Soon after four o’clock this flowery slope gives way, and we enter the summit region, with the westerly eminence on our left hand. Before us lies a deep and irregular basin filled up with masses of snow.
Such perhaps is the most concise description of the strange scene about us and at our feet ([Fig. 188]). My illustration was taken on the following day from the top of the westerly eminence, or western summit of Sipan. Our position now is on the slope of that lofty eminence, on the upper margin of a field of snow, which is not visible in the picture, but which descends to the little lake in the foreground. The lake is known as Kirklar Göl, or lake of the forty Mussulman saints, and is probably due to the dissolving of the snowy sheets which hem it in on either shore. The slope on the opposite, or southern side of the basin is very steep where it sinks to the pool; and it sometimes happens that the snow falls headlong and in a mass into the blue water. West of the lake, and especially beneath the western summit, the edge of the basin is low; indeed we have entered into the summit region by a natural passage or partial cleft.
