January 13th, 1891.
Climbed the mountain close to our camp in a N.E. direction, so as to cut into the gorge higher up than the spot where we had watered our camels yesterday. According to Floyer’s map, which is so far the only one in existence, the Kittar cascade should be reached about eight miles higher up this same ravine. So we climbed on, hoping to reach it in a few hours; but what was my surprise at suddenly coming upon this lovely waterfall before we had left camp an hour. Thus proving that in the map the cascade is put about six miles higher up the gorge than it really is. I shall chaff them about their map making when we get home. Having rested awhile, and filled the water-bottles, we proceeded up the ravine, which now widens considerably. After marching about two miles, clambering over big boulders, with which this mountain torrent is strewn, we came upon a narrow place in the ravine which was suddenly ended by a wall of granite, over the edge of which a tiny little trickle of water threaded its way until it finally lost itself in the sand at the foot of the wall, which was only about fifteen feet high. My Arab scooped out the sand with his hands and soon made a little hollow, which rapidly filled with water. This water is not marked in the map. At the base of the wall, and in the ravine where we stood, grew tall rushes and various green weeds, also a bunch of young date-palms all in a tangled mass. Close by grew two good sized fig-trees, not the common sort, as their stems were quite white and the leaves very small. Then again, out of a cleft grew a most peculiar tree,[6] with flat, round leaves of brightest green. The stems were covered with white thorns, and here and there ripe fruit hung down like long purple figs, full of juicy pulp and seeds. I eagerly picked some and took a hasty bite, but spat it out in disgust as it was most utterly nasty, bitter as gall, and left a burning on the tongue. However, my Arab ate a lot of it, and is, still alive. I am keeping the fruit to bring home as the tree was a very pretty one. Altogether this little glen made quite a pretty oasis in the midst of the mountains which towered around on all sides. Having climbed up over the rock we scrambled on about half a mile till the ravine opened out again; and we found ourselves in a deep hollow amongst the mountains. Close by was a rude shelter of stones, roofless, but with a little window in it, and on the floor we picked up a few relics of old pottery.[7] After spying all the cliffs carefully for ibex and finding none, we returned to camp, after waiting awhile at the waterfall, which I must shortly describe. The narrow gorge ends suddenly in a sheer cliff about seventy feet high. At the top is a basin of clear water, the overflow of which trickles over the edge in scores of little silvery rills; all down the face of the rock grows lovely maidenhair ferns and tufts of rushes. Finally each little thread of water falls into the pool below, which I roughly put at ten feet deep and forty-one feet long, its breadth being the same as the ravine which held it, perhaps twenty-one feet.[8] Below, again, were two more pools about the same size, the whole forming a lovely necklace of limpid water, cool and quiet, as the sun never shines there. We viewed the spot from above, the only other occupant being a little waterwagtail that flitted about after insects on the water, and took no notice of us. I could find no way down the fall into the gorge below, which winds about till water again reappears at our old watering-place.
LOOKING DOWN MEDISA RAVINE FROM LOWER POOL.
MEDISA FALL. LOWER POOL.
Medisa,
January 14th, 1891.