Cyprus, as I Saw It in 1879

by Sir Samuel White Baker

START FOR THE CARPAS.

I determined to leave my two vans in charge of the head-man of Kuklia, as the drivers declared it would be impossible to proceed into the roadless Carpas with any wheeled conveyance heavier than the native two-wheeled cart. They had accordingly entered into a contract to supply me with vehicles which the man of ability Theodori assured me could travel to the extreme eastern limit of the island, Cape St. Andrea, "as he had been there himself, and knew the way." Georgi, who knew nothing of this portion of the country, believed all that Theodori said, and did his bidding. Having lightened the loads by leaving all that was not absolutely necessary safely locked within the vans, we started on 1st March with camels, in addition to two native carts, taking the route direct east, across the extensive flat which at this time was dry and hard. There was nothing of interest in the day's march; the travelling was easy along the hardened level surface; we had a clear view of the cathedral and higher forts of Famagousta, and we passed near the ruins of Salamis, easily distinguishing the solitary pillars that had supported the ancient aqueduct which led the water from distant Kythrea.

Although everything was thoroughly dried up, it was easy to imagine the effect of an inundation of the Pedias river, which had formed this delta of alluvium, precisely as the Nile on a more extensive scale has produced the Delta of Egypt. There were a few wretched villages upon the flat, which were necessarily on the poorest scale, as they existed at the mercy of a sudden inundation. The unhealthiness of this locality must be extreme during wet weather, as it is only suitable to the constitutions of frogs and ducks. Upon arrival at higher ground on the opposite side of the plain I looked back upon the agueish area over which we had passed, and I had little doubt of the great engineering necessity that must be the first step to a sanitary reform in this pestilential neighbourhood.

As the river Pedias is a mere wayward torrent that NEVER flows as a permanent stream, but only comes down in impulsive rushes from the mountains during heavy rains, it has no power to cleanse its original bed, such as would result from a constant and clear current; but, on the contrary, the heavy floods from the upper country, being the result of a sudden rainfall, are surcharged with earth washed down from the higher ground and thickly held in solution. This vast mass of soil, which adds a corresponding weight to each gallon of water, is carried forward according to the velocity of the stream, and is ready to deposit upon the instant that the propelling power shall be withdrawn. So long as the river is confined between narrow banks, the high rate of the current is sufficient to force forward the thickened and heavy fluid; but the instant that the banks are over-topped and the river expands over an increased area, the rapidity is reduced, and the water, no longer able to contain the earth in solution, deposits alluvium, and produces a delta, which must necessarily increase upon every future inundation. The result must end either in forming a bar at the mouth of the river, or (as in the Pedias) in THE TOTAL SILTING OF THE EMBOUCHURE, which extinguishes all traces of a broad channel, but leaves a series of deep marshes scored by innumerable ditches, to be in their turn filled with mud when the next flood shall extend over the wide surface and increase the deposit.

This is the position of the Pedias, and until improved I cannot foresee a good sanitary prospect for Famagousta, which is situated on the borders of the swamp. There can be only one engineering method of preventing the silt, by confining the river between artificial banks, within a channel sufficiently narrow to ensure a current whose velocity would carry the heavy fluid directly into the sea. Even should this be accomplished, and the river be securely banked, the deposit of mud will then take place within the sea, and will assuredly form a bar; which will probably affect by silt the neighbouring harbour of Famagousta in the same manner that the ancient port of Salamis has been completely obliterated. In any case the engineering difficulty will be costly and uncertain; but if Famagousta is to be restored to its former importance as a first-rate harbour, arsenal, and military station, the management of the Pedias river must be seriously considered.

We arrived at Trichomo at about 3 P.M. The town is built upon the sides and summit of high ground within a mile of the sea. The sight of a narrow iron chimney emitting puffs of steam showed that some progress was exhibited by the presence of an engine—this was employed in working cotton-gins.

The houses were the usual sun-baked bricks of clay and chopped straw, and although the town was large, there was no building of sufficient importance to attract attention. We rode through the streets determined as usual to avoid the smells of a close proximity and to seek a camping-place some distance upon the opposite side. After passing through the town and descending a hill, we then ascended a steep slope which opened upon a wild country of rocky ground covered with the usual prickly plants and scrub cypress, which had evidently been cut for fuel until it had become mere brushwood. There was a square mud hut on the left hand standing in an extensive orchard of fruit-trees watered by a cattle-wheel, and as this was the last habitation within view, we halted, and awaited the arrival of the carts and camels. From the summit of the hill, about two hundred yards beyond this spot, the view was exceedingly good; the sea lay about half a mile distant, with several houses and gardens near the shore. The town was in our rear, and to the east was a fine extent of wild country covered with bush and dwarf-cypress, which formed a marked contrast to the naked surface we had left behind. The rugged wall of the Carpas range was now only ten miles distant on our left, and continued parallel to our route. . . . . It was late when the carts arrived, and we now missed the usual luxury of the gipsy-van. I determined to save the servants the trouble of erecting our tent, therefore for the first time in Cyprus we occupied the native dwelling. This was a square hut built of stone and mud, with the usual hard mud roof. From its large size it was evident that animals shared the room with the proprietors. An old man and a corresponding old woman gave us a welcome, and immediately commenced sweeping out the floor for our accommodation; this might have been thirty feet by eighteen in width. After a cloud of dust had risen, and by degrees subsided, we took possession; the carts and camels arrived; beds had to be unpacked and set up, and the servants began to reflect upon the advantages of the van which saved them the present trouble. It was already dusk, but the beds were made, and Christo the cook (who was a capital fellow for speed in preparing a dinner) was enveloped in savoury steam, when the usual inmates of the hut quietly invaded us. Cocks and hens marched in, and went to roost upon some sticks within a corner; two or three dogs arrived, evidently with the intention of staying through the night; a donkey at length walked composedly through the entrance door and steered for his accustomed corner. We had caused serious inconvenience to an unknown quantity of animals, all of whom had to be turned out, except the poultry. What a good thing is dinner! The neat tiny table was spread and the candles lighted; the dishes were simple but excellent; we were thoroughly comfortable in this rude dwelling; but—it might have been fancy—I thought something tickled my legs. There was no mistake, something did actually not only tickle, but bite. Something? It was everything and everybody in the shape of fleas! The hut was hopping with countless swarms of these detestable vermin, from which in our impregnable van we had hitherto been free, owing to its great height from the ground. Whether the unusual sweeping of the floor had created a temporary aberration of intellect or stupefaction among these crowds, I cannot determine, but whatever the nervous shock might have been that had caused a short suspension of activity, they had now completely recovered, and I shall never forget the night passed in Trichomo. It was the first and the last venture upon native hospitality throughout our sojourn in Cyprus, and we in future adhered either to the tent or the gipsy-van.

On the following morning we started at 8.30. The sky was overcast, and in any country but this we should have expected rain. We had now fairly emerged upon a district entirely different from the hateful Messaria, which has given Cyprus an unfortunate reputation. We were quickly among thickets of scrub and low brushwood which should have teemed with game. My spaniels delighted in the change, and worked the bush thoroughly as we proceeded along the route, occasionally flushing two or three red-legged partridges. Passing over the higher ground with the sea in view upon our right, we descended after a march of about three miles to the shore, where the path skirted the sea along broken rocks, against which in bad weather the waves would dash with sufficient violence to bar the road. The white cliffs and hill-tops to our left were covered with dwarf-cypress, and formed a lovely foreground above the sea, perfectly calm beneath. The ride was apparently short, although we had been in the saddle three hours, as the eye had been gratified by a constant change of scenery;—from rocks washed by the blue water to hills covered with a dense foliage of evergreens, and deep sequestered valleys, with occasional gaps in the range of heights through which glimpses of the sea in rocky coves burst suddenly into view. Some of these inlets were exceedingly picturesque, as reefs extended from the shore, overhanging cliffs having from time to time fallen in huge crags and formed natural breakwaters to the beach. These narrow gaps between the hills were generally occupied by a streamlet in the centre, which had cut its way far below the level of the ground, the steep banks of which were fringed with oleanders, myrtles, mastic, and other evergreens, down to within a few yards of the breaking waves. Nothing could be prettier, and upon arrival within sight of Volokalida, about a mile and a half distant in the extreme end of a narrow valley, I directed my wife to a camping-place near the village, beneath some large and prominent caroub-trees, while I dismounted, and with my delighted dogs commenced a ramble over the low woods which covered the sides and hill-tops to our right and left. The walk was enjoyable; we had made fourteen miles from Trichomo, and upon reaching the perfectly flat tableland which formed the summit of the hills I had a splendid sea-view extending for many miles along the coast. The first object that attracted my attention was a large steamer stranded in a cove about a mile distant. She looked perfectly snug, but as only her lower masts were standing, and funnel gone, there could be no doubt of her misadventure. My binocular glass quickly showed that a portion of her bulwarks was carried away, and as no chain was visible to an anchor, she was in fact a wreck. As I made my way through the thick bushes Merry presently opened upon a scent, and Wise running in among the rocks, flushed a fine francolin partridge, which I shot. I then got a quail and a hare, and had no other chances, although the appearance of the country would have suggested an abundance of game. Upon nearing the seashore I saw that extensive sand-dunes had invaded the heights for many hundred yards, completely choking the vegetation and forming clumps or mounds of sand, topped by tufts of the shrubs that lay buried deep beneath. I walked along the fatiguing ground until I reached the shore exactly opposite the abandoned wreck, which lay within a cove, into which she had evidently been run for security.

My dogs found several hares among the clumps upon the sand-dunes, which gave them some exercise and amusement, but I did not obtain a shot.

Upon my arrival at the camping-place I found my wife surrounded by a large crowd of women and children beneath a shady tree, all of whom had brought presents of eggs and bouquets of wild flowers. It was difficult to persuade these good simple people that we did not require presents as an etiquette of introduction; they would insist upon placing their little offerings upon the ground, and leaving them if we declined to accept them. The principal wild flowers were cyclamen, narcissus, and anemone. The cyclamen completely covered the ground throughout all the low woods and thickets. I could only find two varieties, the snow-white, with claret-coloured centre, and the rose-colour; but the blossoms were quite equal in size to those usually grown in our glass-houses in England. We had passed through several hundred acres of open ground that were as white from the abundance of narcissus as an English meadow might be yellow from the presence of buttercups.