In passing now to a closer examination of the geography of those portions of the tableland with which we shall be most concerned in later chapters, we cannot begin more appropriately than by a description of the Halys River itself, as one of the definite landmarks of the interior, and as including in its circuit some of the most instructive Hittite works. This splendid river, known in the Turkish language as the Kizil Irmak, has a total length of five hundred miles, without counting its minor windings. Its sources must be sought in the map beyond Sivas, far up the northern slope of the lower Armenian hills,[43] where at one point but a few miles divide it from several tributaries of the Euphrates. For nearly two hundred miles it holds on in a south-westerly direction through hilly country, fed by numerous short streams on either hand, which scour for themselves deep channels in their swift descent. Its waters are deeply stained red-brown in colour by the rich sediment which it carries. Its banks are rugged, and like most main rivers of western Asia it flows deep below the general level of the basin which it drains. The bridge opposite Cæsarea (Chok-Geuz) is only gained by a steep climb on either side. Between this and the other bridge some fifteen miles lower down, the river flows characteristically through a steep-sided valley, with only narrow strips of verdure along its banks. These strips are precious, and, though liable to be washed out by flood,[44] are cultivated with great care by individual peasants, who are rewarded with fruits and even flowers, as well as the vegetables which are their chief concern.[45] Sometimes these strips, which are never more than a few feet in width, give way entirely where the rocks protruding from the bank present an obstacle around which the deep waters swirl. Ever and again, however, the steep banks recede, leaving a green oasis wherein a village lies among its crops. Yamoola is such a place, where the right bank lies back as the lower bridge is approached. But for the most part the edges of the plateau in which the river’s bed is sunk are so rugged and so strewn with stone that they remain uncultivated. Here and there villages are found even in the river’s banks; in some cases the entire houses are excavated therein, so that their windows look out on the water through walls of solid stone, as at Chok-Geuz Keupru; in other cases the excavation is more partial, leaving most of the frontage and part of the roof to be built—the one with mud, the other with timber and mud, as may be seen by following the left bank below the lower bridge. The traveller will also be rewarded here in summer-time with wildflowers in varieties of colour surpassing imagination, possible only in a highly fertile and neglected soil. Patches of pink, blue, orange, white and yellow meet the eye in quick succession. Roses grow in profusion, while here and there are whole fields of purple iris, shining and changing hue as they bend in the sunlight to the winds that play upon them.
PLATE XI
THE HALYS RIVER, BETWEEN CHOK GEUZ AND BIR GEUZ
The volume of the river has now become so great that fords are few and generally difficult. That near Bogche[46] is no longer passable in the winter and spring-time. The village itself lies back from the river-brink about fifteen miles below the Bir-Geuz bridge. Karaburna lies near the opposite bank, another day’s journey lower down. Hereabouts the hilly ground which lies eastward of the great lake Tuz Geul arrests the southerly progress of the river, which, thrown back, turns in a great sweep north-westwards for nearly a hundred miles, then northwards to latitude of Angora, so dividing the heart of the peninsula. The chief bridge in the latter portion of its course is now at Cheshme Keupru, where amongst other main communications the road from Cæsarea to Angora recrosses the river. Hereabouts it would seem there was a bridge and fort or guardhouse in Persian times,[47] where the royal road from the Phrygian country and the west passed over towards Boghaz-Keui. Above this bridge the immediate banks are green and on the left side open; but below the waters pass at once into a rocky defile, changes which are typical of the varying nature of the river’s bed. Opposite Angora (which is distant about thirty miles at the nearest point) Nature opposes further obstacles to the northerly progress of the river in the broken ranges of the northern coast, so that it now turns completely upon its original direction, and henceforth flows north-easterly with one main détour. As it winds around the foot of the Kush Dagh it descends from the plateau, and in a widening valley with fertile banks finds its way into the Black Sea, northwards from Samsun, at the point of a promontory which it has itself deposited.
PLATE XII
YENI-HAN, NEAR SEKKELI: NOMAD ENCAMPMENT ON THE DELIJE IRMAK (See [p. 29].)
The great circuit of the Halys encloses a tract of country a hundred and fifty miles across, watered chiefly by tributaries of the same river. Of these the Delije Irmak is chief, and it is perhaps more directly concerned with the fertility of the country than its parent river. It rises in the watershed of the Ak Dagh Mountains, under the southern slopes of which the Halys itself flows down the long reach between Sivas and the bridges near Cæsarea. Thence in its course it makes a similar circuit within that of the Halys, which it only joins in the middle of the north-westerly reach. This river is more gentle in its flow, and its banks are mostly flat alluvial tracts of great fertility; indeed, the land would support a population many times more numerous than its settled inhabitants. Long green pastures and arable spots remain unneeded and neglected. It is small wonder that the wandering Turkoman and other nomad peoples have found out this favoured region so suitable to their habits and the feeding of their flocks. Their tents in little groups are found quite frequently in places off the beaten tracks; indeed their encampments remaining through several years sometimes mark the foundation of villages and settled life. The tent of the nomad is generally made of lengths of rough hand-made cloth, woven from home-spun goats’ wool. These are sewn together to give a considerable expanse of cover, which is spread over vertical poles and brought down to earth on the windward side. In such a tent the owner and his family share a common shelter with their flocks and any other animals they may possess.[48] In some cases the development of the house from tent may be watched growing proportionately with the duration of their stay. For the ashes and rubbish are regularly thrown out around the back of the tent for mere convenience. This refuse gradually accumulates, and may be increased by earth cleared gradually from within, and by stones collected from the land in use around, so that in a year or two a wall or mound three or four feet high already encloses the tent on three sides. The worn-out cloth cover is now replaced by a roof of rafters and twigs covered with earth, and perhaps without realising it the nomad has settled and built a house. The solution is not always so simple or purely economical. In some cases walls of reed are built, over which the cover will be stretched as before and held down all around with pegs. In due course, with a prolonged stay, the worn-out cloth will be replaced by thatch, and rough stone walls supplant the decaying reeds; and so, as he loses the habit of wandering, the nomad loses also the necessaries of his journeys.
PLATE XIII