Engraved and printed by Wagner & Debes, Leipzig
Published by Longmans, Green & Co., London
The sun is setting; so the tripod is rapidly erected, and the bearings of the principal mountains registered with the utmost care. Happily the sky is almost free of cloud. Ararat soars into space, a magnificent object, both peaks of the greater mountain, although almost merged by the perspective, being distinguishable by the naked eye. The bold snow bastion on the west is seen to the fullest advantage. But the Little Ararat is almost hidden by nearer outlines; and only the summit of that graceful cone is exposed. If the mountain of the Ark be without equal, or even rival, in a landscape which in all directions is sublime, it possesses at least a neighbour with many attributes in common—the Kuseh Dagh, beyond the plain of Alashkert. That giant overtops the land forms, almost from the very base—a truly inspiring sight. It is so essentially a great mountain, towering up to a symmetrical, but deeply vaulted dome.
Night is falling as we descend to our little tent upon the ridge at an elevation of 13,000 feet. But our poor porters and the several zaptiehs who have, quite unnecessarily, scrambled up—how shall we protect them against the rigour of the night? They prefer to remain with us; so we wrap them up in the stout red cloth which we have by us for our measuring poles. They cower over the smouldering fire against the screen. But the temperature scarcely sinks as low as freezing-point in the sheltered places, and at dawn the lake below us is free of ice.
August 5.—Neither my companion nor myself are able to sleep, although we are quite fresh for our work next day. The same experience befell our party upon Ararat; at these high altitudes one does not seem to require sleep. We are up before the sun; but the light is already sufficient to disclose the great world, silent at our feet. Not a vestige of cloud is clinging to our mountain; and, as the sun rises, all the outlines in the distance are well defined. To Oswald is apportioned the task of taking measurements, and he starts off over the snow-fields with his telemeter and his poles. I mount to the summit of the platform on the east, which is reached at half-past six. There I erect my instruments in the same cairn which we visited yesterday, and which may be called the eastern summit. The pools on the way are thinly crusted with ice.
With what joy I look out from the well upon the cairn, and am greeted with the sight of Ararat in all his majesty, without a particle of cloud! Every minute the outline grows in distinctness, and each familiar feature becomes clear. How radiant the fabric looks—such a bright presence in the sky, above the summits of the Ala Dagh! Those mountains pass insensibly into the outlines on the east—the horizontal heights of the Persian tableland. Westwards it is a series of plains. The plain of Patnotz, deep below us, joins the plain of Melazkert; that expanse is continued into the region of Bulanik, threaded by the silver channel of the Murad. Kartevin and Bilejan rise like islands from this sea-like surface, in which are lapped the blue waters of Lakes Nazik and Gop. In the north the undulations of the plateau country are continued up to the barrier of the Mergemir—Kilich-Gedik; but that outline is so low that you almost see the plain beyond it, supporting the base of the Kuseh Dagh. Further west the plains are bounded by much bolder masses—Khamur with Bingöl showing up behind. The peak of Palandöken is just perceived. But the Nimrud crater is a conspicuous object—not the least remarkable feature in the scene. How vast it all looks!—stray clouds throwing liquid shadows, and earth reflecting the glow of morning in vague, mysterious lights and hues.
In the opposite direction the contrast exceeds expectation—for one is standing in the border region on the outskirts of the plateau, and near the serried ranges which confine it on the south. Never have I seen those ranges look so steep and savage, the seams rising like spear-points from the water’s edge. Nowhere is their outline more broken into peaks, more exactly the opposite of the outlines on the north. And the contrast is enhanced by the sea to which they descend—the dream-like presence of the sweet sea of Van. Pleasant verdure softens the landscape of the nearer shores, with their sinuous inlets, already deepening to an intense blue.
I remain about three hours upon this summit, and then proceed to the highest eminence on the eastern margin of the circular figure, in order to overlook the eastern arm of Lake Van. On my way there a strange incident occurs. My Circassian has told me that there exists a ziaret, or place of pilgrimage, in the vicinity of this cairn. Curious, and half doubtful, I ask him to show me the spot, which he says is close by. What is my amazement when, opening out a slight hollow of the snowy surface, we see before us a group of Mohammedan women, standing upon the ice with bare feet and ankles, and prostrating themselves before a pair of stag’s horns! Indeed the antlers are so thickly covered with little bits of rag that it is impossible to say for certain to what species of animal they belonged. Stranger still is the fact that a band of women—I count twelve—should have risked their lives in this way. Tantum religio!... And yet the Kaimakam of Melazkert is quite unshaken in his belief that only one man, and he in exceptional circumstances, has ever trodden the sacred summit of Sipan![5]
After spending nearly another three hours upon the eastern eminence, during which I draw in the portion of the lake which lies before me, because I recognise several errors in the existing map, I return to our camp upon the ridge. Oswald has just completed his arduous work upon the snow; and the combination of our labours produces the following results, which must be taken as approximate. The long axis of the figure described by the summit region is but little inclined from an east-west line. The centre of the circular mass, to which the eastern summit belongs, is a little north of a line drawn from the western summit in an easterly direction. The ultimate points of this axis are, on the west, the western summit, and on the east, the eminence upon which I last stood. The distance between the two is one and a quarter miles. The breadth of the basin is just under a mile.
The Circassians and the porters dance with delight when the order is given to take down the tent. They appear to have made up their minds that we shall keep them shivering for another night. All give utterance to devout and repeated Alhamdilallahs, thanks be to God! Our last duty is to scale the western summit, and to become familiar with the scene which it commands. We overlook the small circular lake of the Aiger Göl, on the southern slopes of Sipan. It perhaps fills the basin of a parasitic crater. The elevation of this peak is about the same as that of the eastern summit, namely 13,700 feet. On our way down we recognise the traces of a bear; and we reach our standing camp without further incident at about five o’clock. It has been a very full and delightful day.[6]