Shortly after losing sight of the tell-tale rock and the Roman Hydreuma, our path lay through a narrowing valley which contracted to a pass between imposing masses of granite, now known as el-Mutrak es-Salâm. It was an awe-inspiring pass. These gigantic and shiny black rocks which rose up on each side of us, deprived as they were of every vestige of growth, seemed hardly terrestrial, and suggested some landscape in the moon. There was no difficulty in finding a shady place for our midday meal and rest; but I was glad when we moved on, for there was something as oppressive in the aspect of the pass as there was in the atmosphere. More graffiti were found and duly photographed; but wishing to get into a more open country I pushed on ahead. I was safe not to lose my way as long as I followed the tracks of previous caravans, which were plainly visible. After a couple of hours of this pass the black shiny rocks became hateful to me, and when I emerged into a wide valley again my spirits rose rapidly.
Ranges of sandstone rock were to the right and left of me, and though not as beautiful in form as the limestone cliffs of Der el-Bahri, they were congenial in colour, and set off the intense blue of the distant mountains.
My solitary ride had to come to an end when the road branched off on two sides of a range of hills on both of which were camel tracks, though not in equal quantities. There is no risking a wrong route in a wilderness such as this, so I chose a shady place, and felt proud when I induced my camel to go down on its knees. I tied up its foreleg in the approved fashion to stop its running away in case I might fall asleep. My companions might easily fail to see me, but they would be sure to catch sight of the camel.
I tried to analyse the charm of the desert, the ‘Call of the Desert,’ as Hichens aptly names it; for while I rested here its inexplicable charm pervaded my whole being. I am fond of my fellow-creatures and am in no wise cut out for the life of a hermit; besides, many lonely places exist far removed from desert wastes where solitude can still be enjoyed. It was not, therefore, the feeling of solitude that could alone explain the desert’s attraction, now that I had left behind me the oppressive blackness of the Mutrak es-Salam pass. A drowsiness soon began to displace my futile analysis, when a slight tickling of my ankle prevented me from felling asleep. My presence was being resented by a colony of ants whose operations I was impeding. I had to shift my position, and there being room enough for them as well as for myself in this vast desert, I returned those, which were exploring my leg, to their companions.
We were some fifty miles from any cultivation, except the little oasis where we had last camped, so what on earth could have induced these ants to choose this spot? The inexplicable charm of the desert would soon fizzle out were we cut off from water and provisions; and where could these ants have found either? I followed the trails, which started from the nest, to discover what means of subsistence they had, and found that some camel’s dung, buried beneath the sand-drift, was the ‘call’ which had attracted them so far.
Hardly an hour had passed since we left the Nile valley but we had seen some animal life. Birds follow the camel tracks and flies and beetles infest the Mabwala, or stations, where the caravans rest. These are often in the only shady places, and they often obliged us to take our midday meals in the blazing sun; for we could hardly add a tent to the load which was carried on Selim’s longsuffering camel. We had seen two butterflies that very morning, and accounted for them as having been carried here by the prevailing wind. A poor look-out for them, for the desert reaches to the Red Sea coast. The ants puzzled me, for I saw no signs of any organic matter when I chose my resting-place.
Meditations in this climate soon end in sleep, and I became unconscious of my surroundings till I heard my name being shouted. I looked up, and behold, my camel was gone, and following the track in the loose sand I saw Laura hobbling on three legs, about half a mile away, and making for the guide who rode the leading camel; my companions in the meanwhile were zigzagging across the valley to find me. When I caught the beast up and satisfied my friends that I was not lost, I made Laura go down on her knees to allow me to mount, and now all the cussedness of her camel nature showed itself. I had to undo the end of the halter which tied the foreleg into its bent position and also keep at a safe distance from Laura’s teeth. The instant I got it undone, up she would jump before I had a chance of getting my seat. She did this several times, till I was obliged to hang on to her as best I could and climb into my saddle while she moved off.
Canon Tristram says: ‘The camel is by no means an amiable animal, and its owner never seems to form any attachment to his beast, nor the animal to reciprocate kindness in any degree. I never found one camel valued above his fellow for intelligence or affection. A traveller always makes a friend of his horse, most certainly of his ass, sometimes of his mule, but never of his camel. I have made a journey in Africa for three months with the same camels, but never succeeded in eliciting the slightest token of recognition from one of them, or a friendly disposition for kindness shown.’ Canon Tristram never wrote truer words. Laura was a beast! I would do my best to get something for her to feed on, other than on her hump, when we should reach Kosseir; but no corner of my eye would moisten when Laura and I should part company.
When we got to a further reach in the valley, we were surprised to see some gazelle. This was more surprising than the ants, for surely gazelle could find neither fodder nor water here. That the poor creatures had been frightened further and further away from the cultivation was probable, but until they returned there nothing but a long fast awaited them; if they were making for the coast, nothing to feed on awaited them there. We were near enough to have shot some with a rifle, but I am glad to say that none of us had a rifle; we had even packed up our revolvers with the baggage. We regretted the latter for a moment the next day, but of this anon.
We reached a second Roman station as the shadows were lengthening; it was considerably smaller than the Hydreuma of the morning, and was also in a worse state of repair. We heeded it little beyond using one of the walls for our backs while Selim brewed us some tea. The guide climbed one of the hills to see if there was any sign of the baggage, and on his reporting that none was visible, we could take the next ten or twelve miles to Bîr Hammamât at our ease. The colour of the landscape took extraordinary combinations as the sun declined, and as we again approached the blackish hills which contracted the caravan route.