Though wearisome, the journey proved at this time a continual treat. The ascent of these hills is over three broad terraces. After leaving Ampasimbé, all Monday and Tuesday we were crossing the numerous ridges of the first terrace, which slopes outward from a mighty wall of rock, conspicuous to the west. These ridges were often high; they followed fast upon one another, and in the ravines between them were lovely bits of scenery clustering round the running streams. At last, beyond Beforona, we reached the foot of the great wall, covered with forest, the top of which towered above our heads. Turning a little north, the road made over the clay hills for a gap in the ridge, and with many a climb and many a deep descent, we found ourselves at length on the high terrace above it, the second of the series, distinguished by its forest. The scenery in this part of the journey was wonderfully beautiful. Now we passed under the long, arched alley, then came into the open glade; now we were hidden in the dense wood, then found ourselves on the edge of deep ravines. Now we crossed a river full of boulders, stepping from stone to stone, or standing in the roaring water; then took a woodland path, buried in ferns, or descended into rich and shady valleys; or, again mounting some rocky summit, enjoyed a noble prospect over hundreds of square miles. Our last day in the ’Alamazáotra forest was very trying, from its numerous and deep mud holes. We had also to cross a frail structure, meant for a bridge, over a broad and deep stream with a fine cascade. But the forest was very fine: we soon reached a clean and pleasant resting-place, Ampásimfótsy, and crossing a high broad ridge, scored by local rice valleys, early in the afternoon, we descended into the broad plain of Ankay, and reached the town of Moramanga. Here we were welcomed by Mr. Wills, one of the English Missionaries, who had been visiting his country churches. The weekly market was in the height of business; meat and clothing were the chief articles we observed exposed for sale. But the place was indescribably dirty. It had probably never been swept from the day when the market was commenced, through thirty intermediate generations, down to the present day.
The plain of Ankay is a place of peculiar interest; there is nothing like it in the island. It is a vast plain of sedimentary clay, enclosed by bordering chains of hills, which run in a direction from north to south. Ankay proper is at least one hundred and eighty miles long and, here, is about twenty miles broad. The chain along its eastern side is not lofty, it has a height of only 365 feet. It is rather like a lip to the plain below than an overhanging wall; it consists largely too of the same material as the plain itself, with gneiss rocks underlying and intermingled with it. The western chain, on the contrary, is a lofty wall of granite and gneiss, 1620 feet high; it overhangs the plain in its entire length, and passes far beyond it. It is the second of the great ridge walls, by which so much of the contour of the island is regulated. It runs the entire length of the island, as far as known, and is covered all the way with wood, which forms the second and upper line of the primeval forest. Vast buttresses of rock project into the plain from its lofty front, and deep ravines and valleys run in behind them, giving to the scenery a rich variety of outline, and of detail.
Ankay should be a level plain. It once was so. But its material is soft and friable, and water speedily washes it away. For countless ages storms, floods, waterspouts and steady rains have made havoc of its surface. It is ploughed and scored into little valleys in all directions; but the scorings all find an outlet, and pass from one to another, till they reach the central drain of all, the valley of the Mangoro River. The bottom of this valley is 325 feet below the level of the plain; and the river flows (like the Jordan) in a little valley within the valley. Naturally, this great draining valley with its river runs, like its enclosing walls, a course from north to south. The Mangoro eventually makes its way through the eastern chain, descends the great hills by a series of rapids and cascades, and falls into the sea near Manahoro. It is interesting to observe that under the western hills, where floods and waters are most abundant, the plain is a hundred feet lower than on its eastern side. We shall see more of this plain hereafter, when we traverse its northern end on the way to the Sihánaka province.
The people who have occupied this plain, apparently without interruption, from the time of its first settlement, are called Bezánozáno. Their name of Tankáys only denotes that they live in Ankay. They are apparently a branch of the Betsimisáraka tribes, who have peopled the coast. They probably came from the lower plains up the valley of the Mangoro, and it is certain that they have spread along Ankay from south to north; the upper portion of the plain being to this day empty. They have been almost completely cut off from their neighbours, and have led an isolated life; till, conquered by the Hovas, and subjected to the demands of the Hova service, large numbers of the men were made bearers of Government goods, and travelled to distant parts of the Hova dominions. They have suffered much from their isolation and are still very uncivilised and ignorant. Their women have a brown complexion, with liquid eyes. They are a very simple and also a hospitable people. They were afraid of the first English Missionary they saw; but when they found he was a friend, they could not do too much for him. At the present time there are several Churches in the valley.
On Thursday morning we left Moramanga and spent the day in reaching Ambódinangávo, a village at the foot of the western chain. In three hours we came to the Mangoro; noticed with interest the depression in which it runs, and crossed it in canoes to the village of Andákana, “canoe-town.” A little to the west of the ferry stands the lofty wooded hill of Ifody. The hill belongs to the western chain, but projects some miles into Ankay, and leaves a long broad valley between that chain and itself. We crossed Ifody, ascending and descending 950 feet; and having rested a while at the village beyond, we pursued our way up the inner valley, along the river Mánambóla. The scene before us in the Angavo valley was truly grand. The valley is almost entirely shut in; the hills on the west and south are very lofty, their vast projecting buttresses are rounded with the most graceful curves, and the brushwood and the forest clothe them with indescribable loveliness. On the south-west stands the massive peak of Angávo, “the lofty,” and the road ascends to the high plains above, over the shoulder of this noble hill. We climbed it early the following day, but we descended and ascended once and again into deep ravines before the solid plain was reached; in one of these ravines, at a most lovely spot, we forded the river Mandráka, with a fine cascade just above the passage. Thence a long climb carried us to the plateau above. The total ascent from the foot of the great chain to this inner edge of the plateau was 1620 feet.
THE FORD OF THE MANDRÁKA
We were now in the province of Imerina; and the dry, chill air of the morning gave ample proof that we had ascended a considerable height above the sea. We paused for a while at the usual stopping station of Ankera-Madinika, where every traveller either sleeps or takes his midday meal. Then passing on we crossed several valleys and stony ridges; till we reached the broad open basin of Manjákandriana, and for the first time beheld a large cluster of villages, with three or four churches. Still west of them we reached the eastern foot of a noble hill, Angávokély, which towers over Imerina and is a conspicuous landmark for many miles; its height is 5925 feet. Here our barometers indicated the highest point of our route; but it was only for a moment on the crest of the ridge which runs northward from the Angávokély hill. We at once descended on the west, and after winding along the edge of the great moor, we reached the mission station of Ambátovóry, and spent some delightful hours with Mr. and Mrs. Peake. This portion of the country possesses great beauties; noble rocks, rich soft woods, green rice fields, and running streams are so blended together, so contrasted with each other as to delight the eye with richest varieties of form and colour, light and shade. The fertile bottoms, watered from a thousand fountains, yield golden harvests to the industry which tills them. But wherever they bend and turn in graceful outline, they are enfolded by long and lofty ridges, studded with enormous boulders; and they rest in the might and the majesty of the everlasting hills.
Beyond Ambátovóry the valleys began to open more widely; the ridges were lower; the population increased rapidly; and not only were villages seen on all sides, but towns of considerable size. Two of these Ambóhimaláza and Ambohitrómby, occupy a conspicuous position and have most important churches. On Saturday morning, we commenced our last journey of twelve miles. We were glad that the end was near. The bearers, as well as ourselves, were exhausted with the hard life we had led; with the long and frequent climb up hill, with the terrible mud-holes, and the bad roads. But the capital was in sight, conspicuous on its lofty hill. Five miles on this side of it two of our friends met us; then three others. Two miles from the city, on the crest of a fine rocky hill, we found the entire mission, ladies as well as gentlemen, with the members of the Friends’ Mission, gathered to do us honour and give us a warm welcome. A group of native ministers joined them; and the theological students met us a little further on. It was a splendid reception; an earnest of the hospitable treatment and the kind aid which we were to experience from them throughout the period of our stay. We finished the journey in their company. We soon climbed the lofty hill, so familiar in pictures of the city; passed near the walls of the well-known palace; crossed the plain of Andohalo; saw some of the churches, so often named in our public letters; and found a cordial welcome in the homes of two of our brethren.
The following list of the principal places we passed on the way up country, with their barometrical height, will show the manner in which the land gradually rises from the sea-coast to the central plateau.