The ascent of the mountain is described by Brant (J.R.G.S. 1840, vol. x. pp. 409 seq.) and by Tozer (Turkish Armenia, pp. 327 seq.). But they both largely underestimate the height. They appear to have been misled by the fact that the highest points are free from snow in midsummer; but the summit region in general is a mass of snow even at that season. On Ararat such piles of rock, on which the snow has been unable to obtain a footing, are found quite near the summit, which is nearly 17,000 feet high. [↑]
CHAPTER XX
BACK TO THE CENTRAL TABLELAND
We were received with the greatest kindness by Shakir Effendi upon our return to Uran Gazi. The vigorous old man came to sit with us in our tent, and gave us some account both of himself and of his people. It appears that he has held the office of Kaimakam of Adeljivas, and that he occupied that dignity for four years. He is the Reis or supreme chief of all the Circassians in these districts; and he gave me a list, which should prove of some interest, of their villages.[1] He added that the population was increasing. The founders of the settlement, of whom Shakir was one, came to these seats after the last Russo-Turkish war. They were emigrants from the district of Kars, a home which they had adopted after the Russians came into possession of their native mountains. When the Russians captured Kars they received notice to quit, or, as Shakir put it, they were told to get out (Aideh!). They took ship, and landed upon the shores of the Black Sea within Turkish territory. But no arrangements had been made to settle them anew. They were starving and being decimated by sickness, when the Queen of England came to their aid. Her Majesty told the Turks that they must either find the land without delay or she herself would provide land within her dominions. This speech spurred the Turks on. In this way they became established in Uran Gazi. This kind action on the part of our Queen would always live in their memory. They are on good terms with the Turks, but they are preparing to move on again. That inexorable Russian advance!
As for the Kurds, they regard them as scarcely human beings and do not fear them at all. But they are held in great awe by the Kurds. Unlike the wretched Armenians, they are allowed to carry arms, which they know how to use with effect. And you hear the laughter of children in their villages.
While I was engaged in writing, the indefatigable Oswald scoured the plain in all directions. He found the limestones on its margin highly marmorised, full of corals; they must belong to the Eocene period. The efflorescence on the border of the Jil Göl is not in fact an incrustation, but is due to a bleached felting of confervæ. Rushes abound, but they had already been cut. The waters find an egress through two funnel-shaped basins, near a large crack in a boss of lava. They disappear beneath the ground in little whirlpools, and are believed to come to the surface at Adeljivas. Shakir assured us that, if anything, the lake is now on the increase; it has been increasing since the earthquake which was so destructive at Adeljivas about five years ago. This earthquake did little damage at Uran Gazi. Although the village is now about a mile distant from the lake, good water may be found at any point in the vicinity by digging a short distance down.
August 8.—Nimrud and Sipan having now yielded up their secrets, it was our next object to explore Bingöl. But, on the way, we were anxious to follow the course of the Murad, the reaches of that river between Gop and Charbahur being practically unknown. We were also desirous of climbing Khamur. Our first day’s stage was to be the village of Gop.[2] We therefore crossed the plain in a north-westerly direction, the way being indicated by a Circassian guide. After riding about three miles we reached the foot of some low hills, confining the plain on that side. Against their first slopes lay a Kurdish hamlet—Karaghun. Issuing into a valley, we rose above it to the crest of the hills, which, as we expected, were down-like in character. For some little distance our way led over these downs.
But I need not tire my reader by taking him over old ground; he will readily recognise that our surroundings were much the same in character as during our journey across this region from Melazkert. For the second time we were crossing the block of stratified rocks on the west of Sipan; but on this occasion we were already within their northerly and less elevated zone, and we might, no doubt, have descended to the plain, and followed along their base. We struck our former route above the village of Demian, after passing through the same valley to which we had then come down at Akhviran, and which we now entered above the large Kurdish village of Shebu. It is an inlet of the great plain at the foot of Sipan. But our guide preferred to take us along the slope of the mass, all the way from Demian to the village of Leter. For that is the direction which these heights pursue.
I have little doubt that these stratified rocks come up again on the east of Sipan, and the view from the eastern summit disclosed in that direction very similar block-like heights. They probably sink beneath the volcanic system of the Ala Dagh. In this northern zone the downs consist of lacustrine deposits, sandstone, and a limestone full of the little shells known as mytilus.[3] The sandstone underlies this mytilus limestone, indicating, as Oswald observed, that the great lake, which once covered this region, grew deeper before the latest earth-movements set in. Throughout the ride from Demian to Leter, a distance of 5¾ miles, we overlooked the flat region which is due to the action of those former waters, and through which the Murad flows. But a gale of wind was in our face; the plain was shrouded in haze—a treeless and little-inhabited district, which might, no doubt, be made fertile and prosperous.