From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

We halted here a while to view the prospect behind us. The whole range of the Khwájah Amrán, running north-east and south-west, was seen to great advantage, and presented a very beautiful sight. The whole range formed a vast ridge of snow, here and there thrown up into higher masses, and all set upon a dark foundation of slate rocks, on which the snow-line, by contrast of colour, was marked with singular distinctness and regularity.

The most prominent peak, about the centre of the range, is the Nárín mountain, held by the Kákarrs. It is the source of the Kadani stream (we have just crossed it), which, after a south-westerly course over the plain, is turned to the northward by the sandhills of the desert, and, under the name of Dorí, joins the Arghasán near Dih Hájí.

To the south-west of Nárín is the Toba mountain, and between the two are the Sehna Dúgúna, or tablelands of the Sehn Kákarrs. The continuation south-west from Toba, is the Khwájah Amrán, which ends at Shorawak, where is the shrine whence the range takes its name. Over it are the Khojak, Rogháni, and Ghwája passes. The two first are kotals or “hill passes,” and are very difficult; the last is a darra or “defile,” and is easily traversed by laden camels; it is the road usually taken by caravans. To the west of Khwájah Amrán is the plain of Shorawak, held by the Bárech tribe. It is continuous with the Kandahar plain, and both are separated from the desert by a high coast-line of sand-cliffs. Though I could gain no confirmation of my views from the natives, I am inclined to think that the Peshín and Shál Loras, which are now lost in the sands of Shorawak, were formerly directed in one stream northerly by the desert cliffs, and ultimately joined the Kalani, or its continuation the Dorí, because the Kandahar plain is so much lower than the country in which these rivers rise. By the barometric indications I recorded on the march, the elevation of Shál is estimated at 5675 feet, Cushlác at 5150, and Hykalzai at 4800 feet. These three Loras unite before they reach Shorawak, and if their common stream, as I suppose, took a northerly course thence to Kandahar, it would descend several hundred feet, for the elevation of Kandahar is estimated at 3190 feet only.

To the north-east of Nárín is the Márúf mountain, and north-east of this again is the Sámai mountain, due south of Caláti Ghilzá. It is occupied by the Hotab section of the Ghilzai tribe, whose clans extend from this right up to Kabul and the Sufed Koh. The Arghasán river rises by two branches in the Márúf and Sámai hills.

After a halt of three-quarters of an hour, we proceeded over a wide plain, here and there cultivated, and traversed in all directions by decayed and dry water-cuts, and at three P.M. arrived at the foot of a great granite rock, where we camped, near some springs issuing at the foot of an opposite granite hill. We ascended the hill near our camp for a view of the country, but on reaching its summit were overtaken by a thick mist and hailstorm, which completely obscured the distant view.

The general character of the plain, however, was clearly visible. It presents a wide surface, stretching east and west, and traversed by irregular broken ridges of bare rock, coursing from north-east to south-west. At distant intervals on the plain are seen a few domed villages, and two or three forts. But the most remarkable feature of the scene is the entire absence of trees—not even a shrub is to be seen. Even the nomad camps are few and far between. In the summer months the heat here must be, as it is described, quite unbearable. The plain is then a parched desert.

The springs near our camp are said to have made their appearance above the surface only three years ago. Previous to that time this place was entirely without water, and was not used as a camping-stage. The old stage was at Dand Gulai, at the foot of a hill five or six miles away to the south-west. But its waters having dried up, it is now deserted as a camping-ground.

From Gátaí we marched fourteen miles in a north-westerly direction, and camped at Mel Mándah, or the Mel ravine, near a kárez on its bank. A most trying north-wester blew against us with considerable force all the way, and chilled us to the very bones. For the first ten miles our route was across a great plain, bounded towards the west by the cliffs of the desert, and on the east by the range of hills connecting the Nárín and Márúf mountains. The rest of our route was over a succession of undulating downs, backed in an irregular and broken line, from north-east to south-west, by a series of bare rugged hills. Throughout the march we saw no signs of habitation or cultivation; not a village nor a tent was seen on the whole route, nor even a single tree, nor any sign of cattle; nor did we see any water, except a brackish little pool about the tenth mile, where the road rises from the plain on to the downs. About a mile east of our camp is the Hardo hill, on which are said to be the remains of ancient walls. Its ridge separates the Kadani plain from that of Mulhid to its north, which extends north-east to the Arghasán river. The Mel Mándah, at this time a dry stony ravine, drains Hardo hill westward into the Dorí river.

Our next stage was eighteen miles to Mákú Kárez, near the village of that name. Our route led north-westerly across the Mulhid plain. From it we got a good view of the Hardo ridge, and saw the outline of walls on its crest. There are said to be some extensive reservoirs here, excavated in the solid rock. Our companions could tell us nothing of these ruins, more than that they were once the habitations of the káfir (infidel) who in ancient times occupied this country. Probably they are Buddhist remains.

At about half-way we arrived at the top of the Barghanah Pass, in the ridge of the same name, and halted a few minutes to view the country. Away to the south, through gaps between the scattered ridges intersecting the plain, were seen bits of the Khojak range in its snowy drapery. To the eastward was seen the great snowy mass of Sámai, and to its north-east appeared the Súrghar, or Redhill peak, whose offshoots are continuous with those of the Sufed Koh. Both Súrghar and Sámai drain westward into the Arghasán, which is formed by tributaries from these and the Márúf hills. To the east, Súrghar drains direct to the Gomal river and Sámai, by means of its tributary the Zhob stream. A great snowy spur is seen to project south-east from Sámai. It is said by our attendants to join the Zhob peak, and separate the Zhob and Bori valleys as a watershed, all to the north of it draining into the Gomal by the Zhob rivulet, and all to the south of it draining into the Nárí river by the Záo and Síbí streams, and tributaries from the Toba mountain. The Khwájah Amrán range and its continuation north-east in fact form a great watershed between the drainage of the Indus and the Helmand.