From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People

by Sven Anders Hedin

After we have left this village not a sign of life is visible. Before us to the south-east small isolated hills stand up like islands in the sea, and beyond them the horizon of the desert lies as level as that of the ocean. Through this great sandy waste the caravans travel from oasis to oasis, but in the north there is a tract, called the Kevir, within which not the smallest oasis can be found. Not a clump of grass, not even a blade, is to be seen, for the desert is saturated with salt, and when it rains in winter the briny clay becomes as slippery as ice. And this is precisely the place we are making for.

We travelled a whole month before we came to the point where we intended to make the attempt to cross the Kevir. Hitherto everything had continued in a steady course, and one day had been like another. It was winter and we had fully 25 degrees of frost in the night: one day it snowed so thickly that the foremost camels in the train were seen only as faint shadows. For several days mist lay so dense over the desert that we had to trust chiefly to the compass. Sometimes we travelled for four or five days without finding a drop of water, but we had all we needed in our leathern bags.

At the edge of the sandy desert, where high dunes are piled up by the wind, tamarisks and saxauls were often growing. Both are steppe bushes which grow to a height of several feet; their stems are hard and provided us with excellent fuel. My servants gathered large faggots, and the camp fires flamed up brightly and grandly, throwing a yellow light over the silent waste.

From a village called Jandak I set out with only two men and four camels, but we had to wait for four days on the edge of the salt desert because of rain. When rain falls in the Kevir the whole desert soon becomes a sea of slippery mud, and camels cannot walk without slipping and falling. Whole caravans have perished in this cruel desert by being overtaken by rain, and in many other cases the men only have managed to escape with the loss of their camels and their merchandise. It was therefore fortunate for us that we were overtaken by rain before we were out on the slippery clay. We waited till the desert had dried up again, and then we joined forces with a caravan which came from the south.

It was pitch dark when we began to move. A fire was set going, and the camels were laden by its light. Then we started, the fire disappeared, and night and the desert lay before us. Only the ring of bells disturbed the silence. We could not see where we were going, but had to trust our riding camels. The Persians marched all the morning and most of the day without a halt; the strength of both men and camels is strained to the uttermost in order to get through the desert before the next rain comes—and it may come at any moment.

After a short rest we hasten northwards again, for there is no question of halting for the night. The darkness seems interminable, but at length it begins to grow light again. Still the Persians do not stop, so there is nothing for me to do but to struggle to keep up with them. "Keep awake, sir!" shouts Gulam Hussein; "you can sleep when we get to the other side." Another day passes, and again we rest awhile to give the camels some straw and to drink a cup of tea ourselves. Scarcely have we begun to enjoy the rest, however, when the chimes of the bells ring out again. The caravan is already on the move, so we pack up and follow in its trail.

The sky seems very unpromising, and is clouded all over. The desert is as level as a floor; not a mound as high as a kneeling camel. The sun sinks in the west. Like a red-hot cannon-ball it shines through a rift between dark clouds, and a shaft of dazzling red rays streams over the desert, the surface of which shines like a purple sea. To the north the sky is of a dark violet colour, and against this background the camels stand out brick-red.

The sun sets, the colours grow pale, and the long shadows which the camels lately cast far away over the ground fade away. Another night rises up from the east. It grows darker and darker, the caravan is lost to view, but the bells ring out with a clear resonance. On we go without stop or rest. This night is more trying, for we had not a wink of sleep the night before.

The clouds break in the zenith, and the moon looks down on our progress. The camels are seen again and shadows fall again over the desert. Here it is as bare and desolate as on the face of the moon.

At midnight the sky becomes dark once more. The Persians have clambered up on to their camels, and the swaying motion soon carries them into the land of dreams. Soon no one is awake but the leader, who guides the first camel, and myself, who am riding on the last. Suddenly heavy drops begin to fall, and in a minute the rain pelts down on camels, loads, and sleepers.