Gundemir is an Armenian village of considerable size, better built than is usually the case (Fig. 191). It possesses an ancient church, and the houses cluster round it, rising up the slope of a little eminence from the plain. The place is evidently as old as the hills. Several groves of lofty poplars spring from the surface of the level ground, which extends in all directions except on the north. One will enclose a field of cabbage, another fringes a tobacco plantation, with the large and luscious leaves. Most of the male inhabitants were absent in their yaila; the women were busy threshing this season’s corn. The head man was present, one Avedis Effendi; and he supplied all our wants with the utmost zeal. We were glad to be back in an Armenian village, after our experience of the Circassians at Charbahur.

From our encampment on the margin of such a grove of shady trees we could study at leisure the features of the plain. I have already noticed its appearance and extraordinary surroundings (Ch. VIII. p. 182); and this second visit enabled me to answer some of the questions which were suggested, but could not be resolved, on the former occasion. While the ova is immediately bounded on the south by the block of heights which we know as the northern border heights of Mush plain, the northern boundary of the whole wide valley—the towering BingÖl cliffs—are distant several miles from the confines of this lake-like depression, in which that valley comes to an end upon the west. The intermediate zone is filled up by hill ridges, of which the axis is the same as that recorded in the last chapter, when we were journeying along the valley from Gumgum. It is an axis similar to that of the plain of Mush. It is evidently a line of volcanic elevation, being almost at right angles to that of the stratified rocks. Of these ridges—with their beaches of lava and sprinkling of oak scrub—two descend and die out into the plain. The more easterly leaves our village close upon the right hand, skirts Dodan, and ends in a series of little cones, which push the river to the very foot of the barrier on the south. Its neighbour on the west composes the heights on the north of the plain. It comes down from the uppermost slopes of the BingÖl plateau, and determines the drainage of the BingÖl Su. It appears to be connected on the south-west with the sheets of lava which have built up the westerly and plateau-like boundary of the plain—a barrier which has been eaten into by a deep caÑon through which a stream descends into the plain. The name of that affluent to the BingÖl Su we learnt to be the Sherefeddin Su; it enters the ova at the village of Baskan. The BingÖl Su approaches the plain on a meridional course, bounded on either side by the two ridges above mentioned, and watering the orchards of Gundemir. It has almost crossed the ova when it is joined by its affluent; it then turns eastwards and settles down to a course towards the Murad.

August 16.—It was afternoon before we were ready to start on our journey towards the still distant outline of the BingÖl cliffs. After fording the river, we made our way up its right bank, along the pebbly alluvial bed, which had a width of about a quarter-mile. In half-an-hour we crossed an outlier from the ridge on the west, leaving the river on our right to flow through a gorge between this ridge and that upon the east. Emerging on the further side, we stood in an extensive depression with nothing between us and the base of the cliffs (Fig. 192). On our left hand, the ridge on the west was seen extending in a north-westerly direction to the very face of the opposite parapet; a conical eminence, consisting of lava built up on lacustrine deposits, was a conspicuous feature upon the mass. Its companion on the east had the appearance of being more isolated; and the prospect in that direction was far-reaching over the undulating basin of the BingÖl Su. At the Kurdish hamlet of Chaghelik we again crossed the river, and struck a fairly direct course for the cliffs. The belt of detritus and broken ground which extends along their base is of considerable depth. All the way we were riding over lava, tending to decompose into brown sand. Our track was indicated on the face of the barrier by a very white appearance, due, as we found, to the dust of a pink lava. Layers of lava and tuff were seen in section along that face. The actual ascent occupied nearly an hour; and it was growing dark as we opened out the surface of the plateau. We had attained an elevation of some 8500 feet, or of 3500 feet above Gundemir. Let my reader picture to himself the cliffs of Dover raised to seven times their present height.

The air was heavy with perfume; yellow mullein, ablaze with flower, rose in profusion from the even sheet of lava. Far and wide it spread before us, sometimes rising to a barren knoll, as often sinking to a grassy hollow. In such a faint depression, by the side of a tiny runnel, we fixed our encampment for the night. The shadows hung about us; but the western sky was shot with fire above a sea of ridges, billowing towards us, and buried in the depths of the landscape before ever they could attain our airy platform. The phenomenon was new; nor were we able to grasp its whole significance until we had become familiar with the relations of this uniform tableland to that country of ridge and trough in the west.

The solitude of the place, and its remoteness from any human settlement disposed us to receive to the full the spirit of our surroundings; nor was the mood disturbed throughout our stay on BingÖl. So plastic is the nature of man that one must regret his confinement in cities, and his exclusion—which is sometimes life-long—from communion with the natural world. Such communion is at once a spiritual and a mental exercise; and the greater grows our knowledge of the phenomena around us, the more complete becomes the fusion of soul with soul. The Hebrews copied from Asia her vastness and her essential harmony, and translated them into their religion and laws; the inspiration has grown feeble during its passage through the ages; but the source is still open from which it sprang. One feels that its ultimate origin must be placed in this country; and that the fables, which are woven around the infancy of our race, resemble the mists which hang to the surface of some stately river, but have been distilled from the solid waters which they veil. The natural setting of those legends are a BingÖl and an Ararat—the one the parent mountain of the fertilising streams, the other the greatest and most imposing manifestation of natural agencies working to a sublime end. And Europe, with her turmoil of intellect and clash of religious opinions, has need of the parent forces from which she drew her civilisation, and of which the spirit speaks to the spirit of the humblest of her sons in the same accents and with the same high purpose as of yore.

We debated on the following morning in which direction we should proceed. Where should we find a yaila from which to draw our supplies during our sojourn upon the mountain? We were as yet a long way west of the so-called crater, and we were led to hope that we might find such a Kurdish encampment just below and on the south of its main wall. We therefore set out in a north-easterly direction over the undulating surface of the plateau. The smoothness of the ground, over which we rode for many miles, is characteristic of this extensive and remarkable tableland, and is due to the slabby nature of the sheets of lava, which must have issued in a very liquid state.1 In this region they are seen to have flowed towards south and west. They support an abundance of yellow mullein which grows to a great height. The flowers of this beautiful plant are as delicate as their perfume; and we did not regret that on BingÖl they take the place of the monotonous fennel. The mullein is the flower of the surroundings of BingÖl, just as atraphaxis spangles the base of the Ararat fabric, and spirÆa and giant forget-me-not haunt Nimrud. But violets we had not yet seen; and here they grew in plenty, on the margin of each patch of melting snow. Their perfume was like that of our garden description; and, while the upper petals were mauve, those below paled off into white. The little hollows of the ground were moist and grassy, having collected a little clay. Over such a scene without limits a few white clouds were floating, borne by delicious breezes across the field of intense blue.

After riding for over an hour without any landmark we reached the summit of a meridional vaulting of the table surface, due perhaps to the emission of lavas from a fissure. From this point we could see the western summit of the so-called crater bearing about east-north-east. It looked a mere hill, like any other of the irregular eminences. The trough below us, on the east, was seen by Oswald to slope southwards, and to become trenched by the course of a southward-flowing stream. This rivulet would therefore be the head branch of the BingÖl Su. Beyond this valley we mounted a second meridional ridge, coming towards us from the western summit. The view now extended along the entire wall of the crater, seen on its southern and rounded side. Its basin and steep cliffs have a frontage towards the north, and were, therefore, hidden from sight. A bleak scene lay before us in the hollow, framed on one side by the ridge upon which we were standing, and on the other by the long perspective of the wall on the north, stretching, like a huge rampart, towards the east. Into that hollow we made our way in an east-south-easterly direction, in search of the vaunted yaila. After riding over stony and difficult ground for over an hour, I called a halt, deciding to abandon the quest. We could see that we had reached a point about south of the eastern summit, for the outline of the rampart was already preparing to decline. To proceed further would be to occupy an unsuitable position for the purpose of exploring the mountain. Our tents were erected a little north of the head of the chasm through which flows the Gumgum river. Two zaptiehs were at once despatched with orders to carry on the search, and to bring back with them whatever food they could find. They discovered the yaila at some distance in an easterly direction, but still within reach of our camp. The Kurds supplied us with milk and mutton; but for flour and corn we were obliged to send to Gumgum, and for charcoal all the way to Khinis.

We remained in this camp for six days, finding it to be an excellent situation. From early morning until evening we pursued our work upon the mountain, visiting the basins on the further side of the rampart, taking measurements and ascertaining altitudes (see the two plans accompanying this chapter). It may be best to resume our results in a single picture, embracing first the mountain, next the immediate surroundings, and last the features of the landscape which it overlooks.2

The BingÖl Dagh consists in the main of a narrow and almost latitudinal ridge, with an axis which is inclined towards west-north-west and east-south-east. The little relative elevation of this rampart above the plateau, which supports it as a pedestal or base, is the cause of the insignificant appearance of the mountain, which, in winter, is almost concealed or merged into its surroundings by the continuous sheet of snow (Fig. 161, p. 191, and Fig. 176, p. 247). The fact that it is highest at its eastern and western extremities, and that from those peaks horn-shaped eminences project towards the north, with a curvature convex to the inner area, and with a rapidly decreasing elevation—this fact, together with the abruptness of the face of the ridge on the side of the north, give it the semblance of the standing southern wall of a huge broken-down crater when seen from a distance on that side. A nearer view from the same side destroys the unity of this conception; the crateral area is broken into two. It is seen to consist of a somewhat smaller basin upon the east, and of one rather larger on the west. The two basins, which are both perfectly open towards the north, are divided by a meridional ridge, which is joined to the main rampart at a third eminence, intermediate between the western and eastern summits, and resembling them in character, although not so high. This medial ridge, like the two horns, dies rapidly away into the plateau. From the extremity of the western horn, which opens out in a north-westerly direction, to the recess of the bay formed by its companion on the east is a distance of about 4½ miles. While the western and eastern summits—the highest points on the entire ridge—attain an altitude of 10,750 feet, the level ground just north of the main slope of the detrital fan has an elevation of 9000 feet. On the other hand, the line of cliffs on the south of the rampart by which the plateau breaks away to the valley of Gumgum are over 9000 feet high along their edge. These measurements may serve to define in figures some of the characteristics which I have endeavoured to describe.

Before pursuing a more intimate and detailed study, it may be well to fix in our mind some of the leading positions, and to assign to them convenient names. Our predecessors have given three such names to the principal eminences. The western summit is called by them BingÖl Kala (the BingÖl castle), that on the east Demir or Timur Kala (the iron castle or the castle of Timur), and the intermediate hump, which is joined to the meridional ridge, Kara Kala (the black castle). I took some pains to ascertain whether these names were known to the Kurds, for none of my escort had ever heard of them. The yaila from which we drew supplies was the most considerable in the district, and belonged to one Mahmud Bey. This Kurdish chieftain was absent from his encampment, scared by the presence of Suleyman Pasha, with his demands for Hamidiyeh, in the close neighbourhood of his lair. But his son came to our camp, and one of his near relations, a middle-aged and unusually intelligent man. He said that they knew the mountain under the name of BingÖl Koch, or, translated, the BingÖl caldron. They had no particular designation of the highest parts. When I mentioned the three castles he reflected a little, and then answered that the western eminence was known in old times as BingÖl Kala; but with the other names he was quite unfamiliar. I see no reason on that account to reject these designations. Kara Kala is well adapted to express the prevailing sombreness of that peak with its dark and broken ridge. Demir Kala may serve to remind us of what is probably a historical fact, that the Great Timur, or Cold Steel, marshalled his armies among these congenial surroundings, and here celebrated his victories with women and wine and song. The statement, however, of one traveller that the eastern summit consists of several storeys of walls, put together by a human hand, must be regarded as fabulous. He vouches for the fact, and adds that, according to what he learnt, an iron door had been removed from the castle and taken to Khinis some forty years previous to his visit.3 He supposes the fortress to have been erected by Timur. The manner in which the lavas have cooled upon the rampart suggests the appearance of such a human structure at certain points. But the feature is most noticeable just west of Kara Kala, where the outline assumes the shape of two round towers.

To these names I should like to add one other, for which I have no authority. Just below the western summit a bold, talus-strewn ridge extends from the face of the cliff in a northerly direction, rising as it proceeds into a tumbling mass of lava, and ending in a conical eminence of the same material. Indeed it constitutes an inner wall of the western basin. It may not be inappropriate to call this rampart Aghri Kala, the rough or rugged castle.

The only eminence along the main ridge of a pointed and peak-like character is the western summit, or BingÖl Kala (10,757 feet). Its effect is heightened by the rapid decline and termination of the parapet just west of this position, as well as by the increasing flatness of the ridge as it extends towards the east after a gentle descent. At the time of our visit this summit was completely free of snow. On the north it breaks away with great abruptness to the basin; but on the south it slopes off into that vaulted meridional ridge which has been already mentioned during our passage across it to our camp. The western summit can be reached with great ease from the south or south-east, or along the edge of the main rampart. The average gradient will not be more than 15°. It is strewn with talus, like all these slopes; the actual summit is fairly level, and is partially covered with blocks of lava. Following the top of the rampart eastwards from BingÖl Kala, its general character is the first feature which seizes the eye. On the south it presents an evenly-vaulted slope, which is continued in an east-south-easterly direction, almost in a straight line. On the north it is hollowed out in the form of a cirque, which, bounded on the west by Aghri Kala, and by Kara Kala on the east, has the appearance of a crater with three standing sides. The particular feature of the rampart in the direction of Kara Kala and beyond that eminence is the breadth of the platform which it presents. At no other part is it so easy to ride along it, as well as to scale it from the south. The northerly slope of the shallow vaulting is always covered by a sheet of snow, which descends into the cirque. The passage from the south into the western basin lies west of Kara Kala, and is not difficult for unloaded animals. Indeed it is the only pass across the BingÖl rampart, which, further east, increases in the steepness of its northern face.

Kara Kala projects from the parapet some little distance towards the north, at the head of its meridional ridge. But this feature is not observable from the southern side of the mountain, where the rampart is seen to pursue its long, straight course. The gradient of the southern slope increases as you approach Demir Kala, but does not exceed 23°. The platform along the summit gradually narrows, until in Demir Kala it becomes an upstanding mass of blocks of lava which must be climbed, stepping from block to block. The lava, which east of Kara Kala has shown traces of obsidian, is somewhat scoriaceous and in places weathers a brick red.4 The summit is flat and fairly free of boulders, which, however, are piled in a beach further east. The level at Demir Kala (10,770 feet) is fairly well maintained for some distance, and produces the bold effect of the horn on the east. But the cliff, after turning northwards, soon comes to an end, being separated from the bank-like continuation of the horn by a narrow but passable cleft. This long, meridional bank composes the eastern wall of the eastern cirque, which is bounded on the west by the medial ridge from Kara Kala. The character of the rampart in this eastern basin is much the same as in the western cirque, although more uniform in point of height. From the south it has the appearance of a straight and gently vaulted bank; from the north, that of a curved outline with steep cliffs.

Just as BingÖl Kala is joined on the south to a meridional ridge, so is Demir Kala in connection with another such outside parapet, which continues the main rampart in a south-easterly direction, far beyond the limits of the cirque. This parapet is beautifully vaulted on the south-west, where it determines the drainage of the Gumgum Su. But on the north-east it breaks away to the grassy ground outside the basin with piles of boulders which are somewhat difficult to cross. Indeed it was always a most laborious matter to reach the eastern cirque from our camp. If we took the pass between the western summit and Kara Kala, there was the medial ridge, with its beach-like terraces, to surmount. If, on the other hand, we made our way up the south-western face of the outer parapet, we encountered the difficult descent on the north-eastern side, and, when this feat had been accomplished, we were obliged to ride a long way north before it became possible to cross the bank which confines the basin on the east. For a man on foot it is feasible to descend the cliffs of the main rampart at several points, and a horse may scramble through the cleft formed by the break-off on the north of the wall of the eastern cirque. But such an attempt is not less dangerous than the endeavour to lead an animal up the snow-slope in that cirque. It seems an easy matter; for the snow extends from the floor of the basin to the edge of the cliff, which at the time of our visit was free from snow. But it nearly cost us the lives of a zaptieh and several horses. When the gradient was at its steepest the snow gave way, and the manner in which one horse by a series of plunges reached the summit was a remarkable example of the power of nervous energy.

It is plain from this description that the conception of the mountain, as seen from the north, is likely to be considerably enlarged and modified by a visit to its southern side. Instead of a single ridge we have a series of ramparts, which describe a figure somewhat resembling an H. The transverse bar of the letter represents the main parapet with the three summits, BingÖl Kala, Kara Kala and Demir Kala. The two uprights will correspond with the horns of the basin on the north, and with the connecting ramparts on the south. A medial projection should be added to the transverse bar, in order to include the meridional ridge from Kara Kala. Finally the upright corresponding with the northern horn on the west should be split into two short arms. Of these the inner arm will represent Aghri Kala.

At the risk of becoming tedious, I have thought it well to insist on these features, in order that our statement may enable the practised reader to judge for himself whether BingÖl ought to be regarded as a volcanic crater in the strict sense of the word. Before adducing additional facts, which may point to a negative conclusion, I should like to mention the explanation which appeared to us on the whole more probable of the phenomena with which we are dealing. It is evident that the latest emissions of lava were much more acid and viscous than those which produced the plateau surface of the surroundings of BingÖl. If we assume that all these lavas issued from fissures rather than from a crater, then the formation of such ramparts in the final stages may be readily explained. The molten matter, welling up from its original vents, became too viscous to flow far. It massed in the form of vaulted ridges along the axis of the parent fissures, or in their neighbourhood. I have already noticed the rounded nature of these various ramparts when seen from the south, as from the standpoint of our second camp. The transverse parapet with the principal summits has the appearance of a long, straight bank, flanked at its extremities by two similar banks, which project towards the south like wings. Look where you will, the slopes are gentle, and strewn with fragments of lava, which in some places have the appearance of loose tiles. Within the figure, thus formed, rise the head waters of the Gumgum Su, collecting, with a network of streams, both from the west and from the east. They combine at the head of the great chasm, to flow through its shadowed depths towards the plain.

It is true that this vaulted and bank-like appearance of the ramparts is not characteristic of any of the slopes towards the north. Indeed the exact contrary is the case. But at this stage of the enquiry we are introduced to a feature which is perhaps the most remarkable of all these phenomena, and which it is surprising that none of our predecessors should have observed. When I descended for the first time into the western cirque, Oswald, who had been engaged there in taking measurements with the telemeter, pointed out to me evident traces of the action of ice. Quite close to the cliff on the south the bosses of lava within the basin have been worn by a glacier moving towards the north. Smooth on top, and with an almost flat surface upon the south, they are rough and precipitous on their northern sides. The rock is very distinctly striated, the striÆ pointing in a northerly direction. The feature continues and gains in definition as you follow down the cirque. Between the bosses the ground is covered with turf and oozes with water, which collects in pools or little tarns. Blue gentians are found in abundance within these peaty hollows, while the violets scent the air in the neighbourhood of the snow. Some distance further, when you are already outside the limits of the cirque, and have reached a level of about 9000 feet, the moraines commence to form. We visited this district from the west, and made our way in an easterly direction across the moraines. They were seen to consist of a medial and two lateral moraines, of which that in the centre proceeds from the extremity of the meridional ridge from Kara Kala, and must have separated two glaciers, issuing one from either cirque (Fig. 193). The lateral moraine upon the west seemed about in a line with Aghri Kala; but a branch of the glacier must have flowed towards north-west, for the extremity of that ridge has been cut down by the stream of ice. This moraine is so pronounced that it is difficult to realise that there are now no longer glaciers on BingÖl. On both sides it is bounded by a lofty embankment of blocks of rock, embedded in soil. The summit, which is broad, bristles with upstanding boulders, and in the hollows there are a number of lakes and pools. A stretch of level and grassy ground is interposed between this rampart and the medial moraine, which shows a similar embankment on its western side. A little river, collecting the drainage of the western cirque, flows in the trough of this grassy depression. The lateral moraine upon the east is in fact that great fan-shaped bank, which extends northwards from the horn of the eastern cirque. Again in this basin a branch of the glacier has diverged, and broken its way through the cleft in its eastern wall. The floor of the cirque is much more grassy than that of its neighbour on the west, but the masses of rock are striated in a similar manner.

The principal reservoir for the ice and snow has been the broad platform between Kara Kala and the western summit. Thence have issued towards the north extensive fields of moving ice, while the melted snow has poured into the hollow on the south of the platform and has carved down the great chasm. We could not trace the action of ice upon the rocks in that direction. I do not know whether we should be justified in dating the disappearance of these glaciers as far back as the glacial epoch. Striking evidence of the existence of a glacial period in these countries has been collected by a modern traveller in the highlands with their marginal region on the side of the Black Sea.5

We are therefore justified in assuming that the abruptness of the ramparts on the north, as well as the carving out of the main ridge into cirques, is largely due to the erosive action of ice. Leaving this subject, I would ask my reader to follow us in an excursion to the interesting region on the south of the mountain. For perhaps the most remarkable characteristic about BingÖl is the great plateau which it has contributed to form; and the features of that plateau which engrave themselves most deeply into the memory are the towering cliffs with the chasm on the south.

As we surveyed the scene from our encampment—in which there was not a trace of snow—the eye was taken naturally to two particular points. One was a graceful cone, just at the head of the great chasm; the other consisted of a pile of lava on the eastern side of this gorge, and some little distance from its margin. It appeared to emerge from the plateau at about its highest level. It is indicated by the letter x on the plan. To reach it we were obliged in the first instance to cross the intricate ridges and troughs through which the streams find their way into the chasm. But beyond this troublesome zone stretched the undulating table surface, strewn with stones or covered with coarse grass. When we arrived at our landmark we found the pile to be loftier than we expected; indeed its summit is the best standpoint from which to overlook the country on the south and east of BingÖl. The blocks of which it is composed are derived from a lava which may be described as a basalt. They are full of magnetite, affecting the compass. This basalt is part of a stream of the same lava, which is traceable to the upstanding crags of the pile x, as a probable point of emission. Towards the west the flow does not appear to have extended for a great distance; but in the direction of south-east it has travelled further, and has produced important results. It connects the BingÖl and Khamur plateaus, being traceable as far as the foot of a conical eminence on the latter mass. The lava from the south-east rampart of BingÖl has also flowed in that direction, while towards the peak x it has described a curve of exquisite symmetry.

The view embraces that strange plateau on the west of the Khamur ridge and the blue lakes which it supports. The slope of its crinkled surface is towards the plain of Khinis, at its south-western or upper end. So far as we could judge, the mass consists in the main of limestone, capped by lava in the south. Descending from this eyrie I rode to the edge of the cliff, in order to ascertain its height. I stood at a level of 9240 feet, while that of Gumgum, a speck in the plain which stretched from the base of the cliff, is about 4800 feet. On either side, towards the chasm or towards the floor of the plain, the ground was falling away with stupendous precipices. In the trough of the abyss lay the Gumgum river, resembling several fine threads of silver.

Our return journey led us past the yaila of Mahmud beneath the wall of the south-east rampart. It occupied an ideal position, in a spacious meadow, and on the banks of the principal branch of the Gumgum river. The chief’s tent faced towards us on the opposite margin, as we rode along the left bank of the stream. The goat-hair canvas, spread with many supports over a wide area, divided up into compartments by screens of osier, had the appearance of a roof with many gables. In the shadowed recesses one observed a medley of luxurious cushions and of household utensils of every kind. Women, gaily dressed, and unveiled, although very bashful, mingled with the group of men, collected to see us pass. The chief’s son, a mere youth who had just returned from six years’ residence in a school at Galata (Constantinople), was pacing to and fro in a remote part of the meadow, a picture of the out-of-place. Round the tent of the chief, in a wide and respectful circle, were ranged the much ruder tenements of the tribesmen—mere pens of boulders with a strip of canvas overhead. The older women had the weird and witch-like expression which one sees in the faces of the Highland women in the background of a novel by Walter Scott.

Underlying the lava, and at the head of the great chasm, is placed a bed of tuff. It forms the bulk of the beautiful cone already mentioned, which has been preserved and invested with its peculiar symmetry by a capping of hard lava. In the hollows about its base yellow mullein grows in profusion, and campanula with its bell-shaped flowers. Making our way over the col which joins the cone to the plateau of our encampment, we proceeded to lead our horses up the slope. But nothing would induce our zaptieh to take his animal with him; he declared that such an act would be impious on the part of a believer, for we were treading sacred ground. Indeed, when we reached the summit, we found an enclosure of stones, protecting a human grave. It was evidently a place of pilgrimage for the district. Our attendant prostrated himself on the ground outside the boundary and took from within it a handful of dust, which he preserved. I asked him to whom he might be paying so much honour. He replied that it was the grave of Goshkar Baba, or father shoemaker. The holy man had in fact been shoemaker to the Prophet, and had therefore been buried here centuries ago. When I enquired whether he had ever done anything great during his lifetime besides making shoes, he answered, “Bashkar yok”—“No, he did nothing else.” From this eminence we could see the basalt on the face of the cliff below x, overlying streams of lava which were relatively shallow, and were inclined some 6° to south-south-west. The layers on the western side of the chasm are also thin, and slope in the same direction, with a gradient which slightly increases as they approach the edge of the cliff.

It remains to notice some of the features of the panorama which expands from the summits of BingÖl. The view comprises PalandÖken, the Akh Dagh, the plain of Khinis; Khamur, with Kolibaba; Sipan, Bilejan, Nimrud. The patience even of an assiduous reader would be exhausted by the attempt to draw its full meaning from this varied scene. We may confine ourselves with more advantage to a particular segment of the circle, taking our standpoint on the western summit, BingÖl Kala (Fig. 194). I may mention that one day, while we were making our way in that direction from our camp on the south of the rampart, Oswald discovered, just behind the actual peak, a large stone with a cuneiform inscription. It was lying on the ground, only distinguishable by an eye like his from the adjacent blocks of lava. Over the almost obliterated characters had been incised the figure of a cross, with a circle at its upper end. This stone may have served to define a boundary, both in the times of the Vannic and of the Armenian Kings.6

The scene which forms the subject of my outline sketch extends from east-north-east round to west. The foreground includes the westerly horn of the main rampart, with Aghri Kala, seen in perspective, projecting into the cirque, and, just beyond that ridge, a bank of detritus, probably due to the action of the glacier. The little lakes on the right of the picture belong to the western cirque, and are seen to send streams which tend to meet in the distance, and which flow at the bottom of caÑons into the plain of Khinis. Both this series and the pools in the eastern cirque drain into the eastern BingÖl Su. They are in fact the highest sources of the Murad or Eastern Euphrates, and their waters find their way to the Persian Gulf. Looking further into the landscape, we see the back of that long line of cliffs on the further side of which lies the village of Kherbesor (see p. 252). It is an important barrier in a geographical sense, for it constitutes the parting between the head-waters of the Murad and the streams which find their way to the Araxes. The outline rising on the north of these cliffs belongs to a group of limestone hills, which extend to the north-western extremity of the plain of Khinis, and to the pass of Akhviran (a, a). In the background the bold profile which looms upon the horizon represents the extension of the PalandÖken heights.

The peak of PalandÖken is a well-defined feature; and equally prominent is the break-off in a cliff-like form of the high ground west of the village of Madrak. The outline of that high ground is continued for a long distance westwards (b, b), until it declines behind the ridges in the west. Between BingÖl and that outline, which we may call the Madrak line of heights, the land forms are insignificant and vague. It is that country of rolling downs at a great elevation over which we journeyed from Madrak to Kherbesor. I would ask my reader to observe how the ridges in the west die out into that extensive block of water-worn plateau. Let him follow the outline (c) from a somewhat pyramidal summit on the east of Sheikhjik; or let him notice, both in this drawing and in the one which I shall presently offer, the direction of the Sheikhjik ridge (a), and its tendency to extend into the watershed of the Araxes. West of Sheikhjik he sees quite a sea of ridges; but in the middle distance all the forms are flat and the surface even—the surface of the BingÖl plateau.

BingÖl! the thousand tarns—one grasps the significance of that poetical name at this season of the year. The feature is largely due to the peaty soil which has been deposited by the action of glaciers in ancient times. The lakes and pools which collect the meltings of the deep canopy of snow would be almost impossible to count. In the foreground, between Aghri Kala and the horn of the western cirque, lies such a conspicuous flash of blue water. I am inclined to regard this particular pool as the source of the Araxes; for although it be possible that one or other of the streams which rise outside the rampart may have a slightly longer course, this source is probably the most elevated of all. But the most interesting of all the features in the middle distance is the outline, as seen from behind, of the plateau itself (e, e). Its equality of surface is due to the liquid nature of the lava—a grey, basaltic augite-andesite—and not to flows of tuff. In the west it must fall away to a river valley, separating it from the sea of ridges in that quarter which we noticed from our first encampment on BingÖl. The outline in that direction is in some places the edge of a cliff; but at others it assumes a vaulted form. I shall presently show that this latter shape is due to rounded hills of serpentine, which have acted as a dam to the lavas. A hill of the same form is seen much further east, quite close to the western cirque. Although we did not examine this particular eminence, it is probable that it consists of the same old rock, representing the former configuration of the land. The BingÖl plateau merges insensibly into the highlands of Tekman, and the collective figure may be known for geographical purposes as the Central Tableland.

But that long break-off upon the west to a river valley—with the wild ranges, a solecism in the landscape, towering up upon its further side—is such a strange and fascinating characteristic that, even apart from its great geographical significance, it merits careful study upon the spot. Let me therefore take my reader a distance of many miles and place him upon the summit of a lofty hill at the head of that valley, just west of the village of Gugoghlan. The position is clearly indicated in my sketch from BingÖl Kala, and forms the standpoint of my second sketch (Fig. 195). The hill itself is built up of limestone—probably Eocene—overlying serpentine, and capped by recent lava. On the left of the picture you see in perspective the BingÖl rampart, with BingÖl Kala rising boldly at its western end. You observe the serpentine hills damming up the lavas in two separate zones. The break-off of the BingÖl plateau is now exposed in face, and a conspicuous feature are the cliffs which it forms (e). The head waters of the Araxes are fanning towards us in pronounced caÑons, deflected at first by the one zone of serpentines, and a little further by the second zone. But it is the general level of the plateau surface which in fact determines their new direction, and prevents them flowing into the basin of the Euphrates. And this level is due to the massing of the lavas against the bases of the serpentine hills.

Deep down in the valley below you meanders the Merghuk Su, on its way to the Murad. It soon winds away from its almost southern course, to thread the ranges, which already commence to rise from its right bank, with a direction which will probably average south-west. What a contrast between these ridges and the plateau on the east! They have the appearance of stepping up to its very margin, for their axis is about west-south-west and east-north-east. Tier upon tier they rise, one behind another, extending into the far horizon on the south-west. Their eastern limit, as seen in the perspective of the drawing, is the bold mass, like a sentinel, of Sheikhjik. But north of that mountain you observe the gentler outlines (b and c) which were so prominent in the last sketch. The abrupt ending of the outline b—the Madrak line of heights—figures as boldly in this landscape as in that from the summit of BingÖl. And the way in which both outlines die away into the block of the tableland is not less clearly and unmistakably defined.

I might write many pages were I to pursue this subject further; I must content myself with a statement in a very summary form of the conclusions at which I arrived. In the first place it is misleading, and indeed it is incorrect, to speak of a meridional line of elevation with orographical significance as connecting PalandÖken with BingÖl. It is strange that such a practised observer as the great Abich should have fallen into such a grave error.7 The lessons which may be derived from the landscape of this important region may, in this connection, be grouped under two heads.

In the first place the fundamental line of elevation is that almost latitudinal line with which we are so familiar, and which may be specified as a west-south-west—east-north-east line. The lie of the country is determined in the principal degree by the strike of the stratified rocks. Between BingÖl and PalandÖken the ridges in the west tend to die out into a single block of elevated land. Further east this central tableland becomes split up, and gives rise to mountains rising on the margin of lake-like plains. Such mountains are represented in a striking manner by the Akh Dagh; and we have already observed the commencement of this transition in the outline a, as seen from BingÖl Kala. But the country on the east still maintains its essentially plateau-like character; while the region on the west and south-west of Sheikhjik and the hill of Gugoghlan is continued in all its wildness between the two branches of the Euphrates, into the districts of Kighi and Terjan. The great height of the ridges points to the conclusion that, in addition to the activity of denuding agencies, they owe their characteristics to a more pronounced or less impeded operation of the forces which have determined the elevation of the country as a whole.

In the next place it appears plain that, although volcanic action has no doubt been a factor of considerable importance in producing the level surface of the districts on the north, south, and east, the tendency to a strongly pronounced plateau country is independent of such action. A striking example of this tendency on a very large scale may be derived from the manner in which the outlines north of Gugoghlan mass together and die out into the region of Tekman. Throughout this country, as elsewhere in Armenia, the lava streams have played an important part, and have done more than any actual lines of volcanic mountain-making to determine the drainage of the land.

A little incident of our stay on BingÖl may deserve to be recorded, if only because it furnished us with an opportunity of admiring the vast extent and strange brilliance of the heaven above us during a whole summer’s night. On the last day of our visit we gave orders to our people to move our encampment across the rampart into the western cirque. Oswald and I, accompanied by two or three zaptiehs, proceeded to the eastern extremity of the principal ridge, and remained there, mapping and drawing, until near sunset. Before it commenced to grow dark we descended into the eastern cirque; but the light had already faded before we could surmount the ridge from Kara Kala, and we became involved among its crags and stones. For nearly an hour we groped our way, leading our horses, and coming near to breaking their legs. When we obtained a view over the snow-sheet and the tumbled bosses in the western cirque, we searched in vain for any sign of our camp-fire. By the light of a crescent moon we proceeded to the margin of the snow at the foot of the cliff on the north of the basin. Even from this eminence we could not discover any sign. We then rode down the cirque, towards the open country; still not a trace of our people. The zaptiehs endeavoured to discharge their rifles; and one man accomplished the feat after several misfires. We ourselves filled the air with the reports of our revolvers; but no answering signal came. We were surprised at the absence of any Kurdish encampment in the neighbourhood of the mountain. There was not a glimmer of the lights of a yaila near or far. Was the tale of the frequency of such summer-quarters on BingÖl a fable, or had the Kurds been scared away by the dread of Suleyman Pasha, who might require them to make some show for his paper regiments? Or had we courted an attack by dividing our forces, and were our servants and our papers and our baggage at the mercy of thieves?

It was clearly not to much purpose debating such questions; we had no alternative but to pass the night where we stood. Both were clothed in the thinnest of garments; but our zaptiehs lent us their overcoats, of such material as they were. We established ourselves within a circle of loose boulders, which had probably been reared by shepherds as a pen. The wind came sighing down from the snowfield in the cirque, and blew through the apertures of the low wall. Our poor horses shivered and starved. Oswald and I attempted sleep under the partial cover of a small camp table which we had with us for our mapping. It was to no purpose, for our limbs became numb. Meanwhile the moon had vanished; but the heaven was still alight; one could scarcely see the stars to greater advantage than from the open flats of such a lofty platform. These last nights we had been observing the advances of Jupiter to Venus—a stately and not too intimate intercourse, as becomes gods and stars. Venus, the most engrossing of all the dwellers in the firmament, a true mother of the inhabitants of heaven, had been receiving the somewhat distant approaches of Jupiter, and the wooer had almost mingled with his bride. To-night they had travelled apart—we reflected upon the mournful omen, with something of the impertinence of the astrologers of old who presumed to connect the operations of the celestial bodies with the puny fate of a kingdom or a king. Pacing to and fro, we realised the paradox of perfect discomfort and keen pleasure. One of our zaptiehs appeared to encompass the same result by surrendering his senses to quite an orgy of ecstatic prayer. When at last the suffused splendour of the Milky Way became pale, and the first flush of dawn was thrown over the dim land forms, we emerged from our flimsy harbour and rode towards the west. A little later horsemen were seen, coming towards us at a dangerous speed over the sheet of snow and the rocky ground in the south. They proved to be our escort, wild with excitement, and quite speechless when they arrived. It is strange that none of the natives have the smallest conception of locality; they had encamped miles away from the appointed place. They had been riding all night in quest of their charge, and had by fortune, as a last chance, extended their search to the scarcely ambiguous position of our prescribed tryst.