Algeria from within

by R. V. C. Bodley

The roads along the coast give a wonderful impression of marine scenery—deep red cliffs and a sapphire sea.

To the east of Algiers, forests of cork-trees border the road, olive-yards cover the slopes of the hills, while every now and then one sees extensive tobacco plantations.

Turning inland, the traveler will pass through more forests, then, climbing into the Kabyle Mountains, he will come to the fig-trees clothing the steep hills, till up and up he climbs to a level of some five thousand feet above the sea. Towering mountains are about him, deep in snow for four months of the year and quite unexpectedly cold in this sunny Africa.

Following the coast in a westerly direction, he will traverse miles of all kinds of vegetables, grown by the local farmers for export to France and England. The new potatoes, the salads and tomatoes, associated with exorbitant prices in Paris in winter, will be seen ripening under this southern sun.

If the journey is continued farther west into the confines of Oranie a few cotton plantations will be seen, then the vast plains of cereals—the ancient granary of the Roman Empire—which now that the old system of irrigation has disappeared are sadly dependent on the rainfall.

Turning inland from Algiers, the hills bordering the coast are left behind and the vine-clad plain of the Mitidja is entered. For two hours the car will pass swiftly through vineyard after vineyard, while here and there rich orange-groves will relieve the monotony of the interminable lines of vines. The wine produced in this area is much richer and of higher alcoholic degree than that of France, and in a normal year not only suffices for all the wants of the country, but is exported in large quantities to the mother country, where it is used to cut the Burgundies and Bordeaux, and in some cases to be sold as French vin ordinaire.

Moving still in a southerly direction, the country becomes mountainous as the Atlas range is entered. The slopes are covered with mountain-oak, pine-trees, and now and then cork, but, though this is supposed to be one of the forest-lands of Algeria, the traveler needs to be notified of the fact. There is, however, one very fine cedar forest above Teniet el Haad, but it is rarely visited as it is off the beaten track. The hills are full of tailless monkeys—the Barbary ape—which come down to the roadside, where there are inhabitants and prospects of food.

Beyond the Atlas range, here known as the Tell, where cattle and horses are raised, the country slopes down on to the wide pastures of the Sersou; it is now very flat and desertic in appearance. Soon the tufts of alfa grass are noticed growing in tall bunches right away as far as the eye can reach, and farther, for hundreds of miles to east and west extend these tracts of paper-making grass. Many of the concessions are owned by British concerns, which, having picked the raw material, despatch it to the Lancashire papermills to be manufactured.

Leaving the alfa, the country again becomes mountainous and wooded as the Hauts Plateaux are reached. The trees do not, however, last long, as soon the downward grade is begun, with the rich pasture-lands which run right away into the desert. This is the land of sheep-breeding, and as one travels along one sees countless flocks of sheep and goats.

The beginning of the Sahara is clearly defined by the sudden disappearance of the low, barren hills which have marked the descent from the Hauts Plateaux. The reappearance, too, of the palm-tree, which has not been seen since Algiers, reminds one that one is in the land of the oases, while away, away, stretches the desert, till its grayness merges in the sky like some eternally calm sea.