Cyprus, as I Saw It in 1879

by Sir Samuel White Baker

After a short march of three miles we arrived at the steep banks of the river a mile above the village of Arpera. The bed of this river was about forty feet below the level of the country, and here our first real difficulty commenced in descending a rugged and precipitous track, which at first sight appeared destructive to any springs. The gipsy-van was conducted by the owner of the fine pair of bullocks; but this fellow (Theodoris) was an obstinate and utterly reckless character, and instead of obeying orders to go steadily with the drag on the wheels, he put his animals into a gallop down the steep descent, with the intention of gaining sufficient momentum to cross the sandy bottom and to ascend the other side. If the original gipsy proprietor could have seen his van leaping and tossing like a ship in a heavy sea, with the frantic driver shouting and yelling at his bullocks while he accelerated their gallop by a sharp application of the needle-pointed driving prick, he would have considered it the last moment of his movable home. I did the same; but, to my astonishment, the vehicle, after bounding madly about, simply turned the insane driver head over heels into the river's bed, and the bullocks found themselves anchored in the sand on the opposite side. Glover Brothers' blue van was driven by a fine fellow, Georgi, who was of a steady disposition; and this very handy and well constructed carriage made nothing of the difficulty. Georgi was a handsome and exceedingly powerful man, upwards of six feet high, of a most amiable disposition, who always tried to do his best; but the truth must be told, he was stupid: he became a slave to the superior intellect of the hare-brained rascal of the gipsy-van. Why amiable people should so frequently be stupid I cannot conceive: perhaps a few are sharp; but Georgi, poor fellow, had all in bone and muscle, and not in brain.

There is great advantage in travelling with more than one vehicle, as in any difficulty the numerous animals can be harnessed together and their combined power will drag a single cart or carriage through any obstacle. Thus one by one the vans were tugged up the steep bank on the opposite side, and after a drag across ploughed fields for nearly a mile we halted on the edge of a cliff and camped exactly above the river. Although the bed was dry below this point, we found a faint stream of clear water above our position, which was subsequently absorbed by the sand. The cliffs were not perpendicular, but were broken into steep declivities from successive landslips: the sides were covered with the usual prickly plants, but the edges of the stream were thickly bushed with oleanders which afforded excellent covert for game.

In travelling through Cyprus there is a depressing aspect in the general decay and ruin of former works. I strolled with my dogs for some miles along the river banks, and examined the strong masonry remains of many old water-mills. I found a well-constructed aqueduct of wonderfully hard cement at the bottom of a cliff close to the present bed of the river: this must at a former period have passed below the bed, and the deepening of the stream has exposed and washed away the ancient work. There was no game beyond a few wild red-legged partridges, although the appearance of the country had raised my expectations.

On the following morning I rambled with the dogs for many hours over the range of hills which bounds the plain upon the north, and from which the river issues. These are completely denuded of soil, and present a glaring surface of hardened chalk, in the crevices of which the usual prickly plants can alone exist. Some of the hill-tops exposed a smooth natural pavement where the rain had washed away all soluble portions and left the bare foundation cracked in small divisions as though artificially inlaid. Now and then a wretched specimen of the Pinus Maritima, about six feet high, was to be seen vainly endeavouring to find nourishment in the clefts of the barren rocks. I do not believe the tales of forests having formerly existed upon the greater portion of Cyprus: it would certainly be impossible for any species of tree to thrive upon the extensive range of hills near Arpera, which are absolutely valueless.

In many places the surface glistened with ice-like sheets of gypsum, which cropped out of the cold white marls and produced a wintry appearance that increased the desolation. I walked for some hours over successive ranges of the same hopeless character. Great numbers of hawks and several varieties of eagles were hunting above the hill-tops, and sufficiently explained the scarcity of game. The red-legged partridges found little protection in the scant cover afforded by the withered plants, and I saw one captured and carried off by an eagle, who was immediately chased by two others of the same species, in the vain hope that he would give up his prize; he soared high in air with the partridge hanging from his claws. On the same day I saw another capture, and there can be little doubt that the partridge forms the usual food of these large birds of prey. The British government has already protected the game by establishing a close season and by a tax upon all guns; but there will be little benefit from the new law unless a reward shall be offered for the destruction of the birds of prey which swarm in every portion of the island—eagles, falcons, kites, hawks, ravens, crows, and last, but in cunning and destructive propensity not the least, the "magpies." These birds exist in such numbers that unless steps are taken to destroy them it will be hopeless to expect any increase of game. When a magpie wakes in the early morning his first thought is mischief, and during the breeding season there is no bird who makes egg-hunting so especially his occupation. Upon the treeless plains of Cyprus every nest is at his mercy.

From the base of the barren hill-range a fertile plain slopes towards the sea for a width of about four miles, having received the soil that has been washed from the denuded heights. This rich surface is cultivated with cereals, but there are considerable portions which are covered with a dense mass of thistles, as the land is allowed to rest for a couple of years after having been exhausted by several crops without manuring. On the lowlands of Cyprus nearly every plant or bush is armed with thorns. I have generally observed that a thorny vegetation is a proof of a burning climate with a slight rainfall. In the scorching districts of the Soudan there is hardly a tree without thorns to the tenth degree of north latitude, at which limit the rainfall is great and the vegetation changes its character. The Cypriotes of both sexes wear high boots to the knees as a protection from the countless thistles, and not as an armour against snakes, as some writers have assumed. These boots are peculiar in their construction; the soles are about an inch in thickness, formed of several layers of leather, which are fastened together by large-headed nails from beneath; these are directed in an oblique line, so as to pass through the edge of the upper leather and secure it to the sole exactly as the shoe of a horse is fitted to the hoof. The nails are long and thin, and are riveted by turning the points round and hammering them like a coil upon the leather; the heads of these nails are nearly as large as a shilling, and the boots are exceedingly clumsy; but they increase the height of the wearer by a full inch.

My amiable driver of the blue van, Georgi, accompanied me in my walk, and fired several useless shots at wild partridges. We now arrived at the spot where the water is led by a subterranean aqueduct to Larnaca. This principle is so original, and has from such remote times been adopted in this arid island, that it merits a detailed description. The ancient vestiges of similar works in every portion of Cyprus prove that in all ages the rainfall must have been uncertain, and that no important change has taken place in the meteorological condition of the country.

In a search for water-springs the Cypriote is most intelligent, and the talent appears to be hereditary. If a well is successful at an elevation that will enable the water to command lower levels at a distance, it may be easily understood that the supply of one well representing a unit must be limited. The Cypriote well-sinker works upon a principle of simple multiplication. If one well produces a certain flow, ten wells will multiply the volume, if connected by a subterranean tunnel, and provided the supply of water in the spring is unlimited.

It appears that Cyprus exhibits an anomaly in the peculiarity of a small rainfall but great subterranean water-power; some stratum that is impervious retains the water at depths varying according to local conditions. The well-sinker commences by boring, or rather digging, a circular hole two feet six inches in diameter. The soil of Cyprus is so tenacious that the walls of the shaft require no artificial support; this much facilitates the work, and the labourer, armed with a very short-handled pick, patiently hacks his vertical way, and sends up the earth by means of a basket and rope, drawn by a primitive but effective windlass above, formed of a cradle of horizontal wooden bars. The man in charge simply turns the windlass without a handle, by clutching each successive bar, which, acting as a revolving lever, winds up the rope with the weight attached.

The rapidity of the well-sinking naturally depends upon the quality of the soil; if rock is to be cut through, it is worked with a mason's axe and the cold chisel. Fortunately the geological formation is principally sedimentary limestone, which offers no great resistance. At length the water is reached. The well is now left open for a few days that an opinion may be formed of the power; if favourable, another precisely similar well is sunk at a distance of fifteen or sixteen yards in the direction towards the point required by the future aqueduct. The spring being satisfactory, the work proceeds with vigour. We will accept the first well as forty feet in depth; if the surface of the earth were an exact level, the next well would be an equal depth; but as the water retains its natural level, the vertical measurement of each shaft will depend upon the formation of the upper ground. The object of the well-sinker is to create a chain of wells united by a subterranean tunnel, in order to multiply the power of a unit and to obtain the entire supply of water; he therefore sinks perhaps ten or twenty wells to the same level, and he cuts a narrow tunnel from one to the other, thus connecting his shafts at the water-line, so as to form a canal or aqueduct. Precisely as the mole upheaves at certain intervals the earth that it has scraped from its gallery, the well-sinker clears his tunnel by sending up the contents through the vertical shafts fifteen yards apart, around the mouth of which a funnel-shaped mound is formed by the debris.