From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

3d February.—We left Aranbí Kárez at 8.15 A.M., in a heavy fall of snow, and proceeding north-west for about three miles, then diverged towards the hills on our right to avoid the heavy ground on the plain. We followed the stony hill skirt of Aranbí, a spur from the Toba mountain, for a short distance to the westward, and then passing round some low mounds ending on the plain, turned to the north. Here the clouds broke and the sun shone out, and we presently got an extensive view of the whole plain, on which towards the south are scattered many villages, remarkable for the absence of trees about them. To the west, in the Dihsúri glen, we got a full view of the populous village of Abdullah Khán, surrounded by fruit gardens. This is the chief town of the Achakzai tribe, and during the Afghan war was held by Lieutenant Bosanquet with a detachment of troops.

Proceeding, we crossed two wide water-courses coming down from the Melán and Máchika glens on our right, and entered the Khojak darra or glen, which winds up to the foot of the Khojak Pass. It is narrow, and flanked on each side by low ridges of fissile slate. Its upper part is occupied by a forest of khinjak trees, and in its lower it receives, on the right and left respectively, the drainage from the Sanzali and Shamsikhán glens, in which we spied a number of kizhdí camps of the Achakzai.

The snow at Aranbí was only five or six inches deep. In this glen it was in some parts over three feet in depth, and where we camped, at the very foot of the ascent, in a gully called Churza (little gully), it was twenty inches deep. The last part of the march was most laborious, owing to the cattle sinking in the deep snow, and it was besides very trying on account of the painful glare from the snow under a bright sun. None of us had our spectacles at hand, and the only way I could at all bear the exposure was by hanging my handkerchief, quadruply folded, in front of my eyes. The intense reflection from the snow was exquisitely painful, even with the eyes closely blinked, and produced a copious flow of tears, and left a headache for the rest of the day. We arrived at Churza at 12.35 P.M., but the baggage did not all come up till late in the afternoon, though the distance was only twelve miles. A party of Achakzai cleared away the snow from a small piece of ground twenty feet square, to enable us to pitch a tent, but our escort and camp-followers passed the night on the snow, which here lay between twenty inches and two feet deep. The space was very narrow, and all were much crowded together. Our Afghan escort, I observed, spread their thick felts on the snow, and went to sleep rolled up in their fur cloaks.

The hill above Churza is called Puras, and it is crossed by three paths, all very steep, and difficult at the best of times, but particularly so now. To the west, at a short distance, is a very narrow gully, down which flows a tiny little stream. This is the usual pass, but it was now blocked with drifted snow. A party of Achakzai were consequently sent off to clear a way through it for us, and next day we crossed the Khojak by it. The pass had been improved by the British army in 1839, but its difficulties are still many and great.

4th February.—Crossed the Khojak range to Chaman Choki—distance, six miles. At 7 A.M., our baggage with the infantry escort commenced moving out of camp up the hillside. In three hours and a half the last of it had left camp, and half-an-hour later we ourselves followed with the cavalry escort. The ascent was by a steep and narrow gully between close-set and almost vertical banks of slaty rock, which only admitted of our horses proceeding in single file. There was not so much snow as I expected, and what there was had been trodden down by the baggage. In half-an-hour we reached the summit of the ridge, and were at once enveloped in a dense mist of snowflakes, slowly settling on the ground, and completely obscuring the prospect. We stood here a few minutes to allow the baggage cattle to get out of the way, and then led our horses down the other side by a steep and slippery path trodden in the snow. In fifteen minutes we arrived at the foot of the steep, where commences a forest of khinjak trees, as on the other side. This place is called Cháokáh, and from it the descent is by a gentle slope down a long glen drained by a shallow gully. As we descend, the snow lessens, and at the lower end of the glen disappears altogether, disclosing the ground, which is here of a bluish-brown colour, and made up of loose splinters of slate. Beyond the glen we passed between a succession of hummocks, and arrived at Chaman Choki, which, as the name implies, is a turfy hollow watered by a good spring.

The weather proved very unfavourable all day. Snow, sleet, and hail succeeded each other till late in the afternoon, when the sun struggled out from the clouds for a brief interval, preparatory to setting for the night. Between four and five o’clock a violent hailstorm swept over our camp and whitened the ground.

Our baggage did not all come into camp till the afternoon was well advanced, but the passage was effected without loss or injury, and the snow was warm compared with the bleak and barren highlands of Calát and Cushlác. Probably this was owing to the absence of the north wind. The Saggid’s arrangements for crossing the Khojak were well made, and the result most satisfactory. By sending the baggage ahead of our own party, we avoided leaving any of it behind, and moreover deprived the Achakzai of any opportunity for pilfering or plundering, at either of which practices they are very ready when there is a chance of their effecting a safe retreat with the booty.

By the aneroid barometer, I estimated the elevation at Churza, on the southern foot of the Khojak Pass, to be 7000 feet; at the top of the pass, 7410 feet; and at Cháokáh, on the northern foot of the pass, at 5600 feet. The aneroid indications at each respectively were 22·82, 22·47, and 24·00. At the top of the pass there was very little snow—in fact, the slate was apparent in many places; on the slopes were seen some khinjak trees and a number of shrubby bushes, mostly of a prickly nature. In spring the whole range is covered with excellent pasture, and produces great quantities of rhubarb, which is here called psháe. Its stalks are preserved in the dried state under the name of íráe, and they are used as a relish, cooked up with meat, &c.

5th February.—The day broke with a clear sky, and we got a splendid view of the wide sweeping plains of Kandahar, and the mountain ranges bounding it to the north and east.

We left Chaman at 8.30 A.M., and marched twenty-two miles to Gátaí. Our route was north-westerly down a gentle slope on to the undulating sweep of the plain, everywhere covered with rich pasture just commencing to sprout above the surface. Here and there are scattered a few camps of the Ashezai and Adozai sections of the Achakzai tribe, and at short intervals are the shallow water-runs that drain the plain to the westward by the Kadani river. We crossed this little stream at about half-way, and beyond it came to the isolated Baldak rock or hill, which marks the boundary here between the lands of the Núrzai and Achakzai.