Journal of Herbert Edward Pretyman written during his expedition to the Kittar Mountains, between Kenneh (on the Nile) and the Red Sea, 1891

January 17th, 1891.

I spent a long day in the mountain;—a very hot one, too, as there was no wind and the sun was overpowering. Found signs of ibex in several places, but saw no beasts at all. We reached a great height to-day, and got a fine view of the surrounding mountains. This, of course, entailed a stiff climb down again. My Bedawi is as nimble as a cat. An Arab brought in a fine ibex head. He killed the beast yesterday not far from here. I have now thoroughly explored all the mountain to the east of our camp, and to-morrow start in the other direction. When Powney arrives, probably next Thursday, we shall shift camp a day’s journey farther into the mountains. There is a pool there, and I hear from some of the Bedawin that there are more ibex there.

I caught a spider as big as a mouse crawling up inside my tent, such a loathsome brute. He was consigned to a tin of boiling water. There are lots of ants in camp, some nearly an inch long; so far they have not bitten any of us. Two little waterwagtails live here, and they are as tame as dogs. They are getting quite fat on the hundreds of flies.

January 18th, 1891.

Spent the morning in skinning the ibex head, and in making an oven, as our bread is finished; but we have lots of flour. I dug a hole in the sand and lined it with the flattest stones hereabouts, putting a big one at the bottom and a similar one as a lid at the top. The oven when finished was like a hat box let into the ground. We then lit a big fire inside, and after about an hour, when the pit was hot, we raked out the ashes and put in the dough in “fids,” like penny buns. We put on the lid, covered the whole with sand, and waited patiently for two hours. The result was excellent, and we now have a ready method of making our own bread without difficulty. The sky has been overcast for the first time since we came. It was unlucky, as I had fixed upon to-day to photograph the Medisa ravine, and the cascade at the head of it. Faragh and I scrambled up, and I took eight views; we did not get back till dusk. I am sorry to find that nearly all my photographic plates got broken on the journey, so my pictures will be limited in number.

I have got a small magnetic machine with me. This evening I took it over to the two Bedawin who were sitting by their fire in the dark. I made one of them hold one wire in his hand; the other I put into his drinking vessel and told him to drink. The poor fellow tried his best; but as soon as the water touched his lips he dropped it like a red hot poker, declaring that a devil was in the water and he would not drink. Dined on fried ibex brain and home made bread to-night; and, being Sunday, a tin of greengage jam was broached.

January 19th, 1891.

Had a very long day in the mountains to the west of camp. We reached the water, marked on the War Office map, “Um Yessar,”[10] in about one hour from our camp. It is merely a hollow under an enormous boulder, but the water always keeps its level, and it is beautifully clear. One man only can reach down at a time, drawing the water in a wooden bowl. This well lies close to the Wadi, at the end of a magnificent cañon full of monster rocks. We scrambled up this ravine for about two hours finding great quantities of ibex droppings, but though we went as quickly as possible, we never came in sight of one. The wind now began to blow at our backs up the ravine, so we knew any beast ahead of us would merely get our wind. We therefore retraced our steps about halfway till we got to a very steep gorge leading up the mountain, out of our cañon. We set to work to climb this. It was very steep, but not difficult, as there were quantities of stones to use as steps. I was astonished to find about halfway up, growing out of a crack, one solitary little bunch of mignonette in flower. How sweet it smelt. I picked some and carried it back to camp. We saw no ibex. We now followed along the tops of the mountains till we got to the big one overlooking our camp. The tents looked like little white specks far below. After a difficult descent we reached home disappointed with our bad luck.

January 20th, 1891.

Had two long and fruitless stalks to-day after ibex, but never got a shot, though I climbed up a precipice barefooted. It was about three times as high as Louth spire; and, when I got to the top, I fully expected to see my beast waiting for me. But he had gone, goodness knows where, and I never saw him again. The same thing happened with the other one. It is useless to stalk these brutes without a dog, as they hide amongst the rocks, and it is like hunting for a needle in a bottle of hay. I was joyfully surprised, on my return to camp, to find Powney had come, having made the journey from Kenneh in four days, travelling light and making long marches. We sat up late exchanging all the news.

An Arab came in to-day with two heads, which he killed two days’ ago in the mountain where we went yesterday. No wonder we found no game. There are too many Arabs about this place, and we have decided to visit a place two days’ further north from here, where we hear there are more ibex. We have sent also some Arabs to try to get a dog.

January 21st, 1891.

Struck our camp and reached the Kohila water at midday. Here we stopped for luncheon. Then went on in an easterly direction nearly to Fatireh, where we pitched camp in a spot which we made 2600 feet above Kenneh by aneroid.[11] The man we sent about a dog came in this evening, and has brought two Bedawin and three “varmint”-looking yellow dogs with him. We shall bargain to-morrow morning for these. It is cold up here, and all our rugs are required. I gave an Arab a cigarette to-day which made him sick like a schoolboy.

January 22nd, 1891.

Struck camp again and came on to this water, which we reached at about 5.30 P.M. There were two difficult passes through the mountains for the camels, and we found we are nearly one thousand feet lower than yesterday.[12] We have agreed, after a lot of bargaining to hire the two men and their three dogs for 30s for ten days, to see how they get on. They began well by going off at about 3.30 P.M. into the mountain; sure enough! we heard yap! yap! yap! up the side of a valley about a mile off, which meant they had “treed” a beast of some sort. I seized my rifle, which I always carry ready slung on my camel saddle, and rushed off. I, fortunately, always carry a couple of cartridges in my waistcoat pocket. So I was soon running up the rocky slope to the foot of the mountains. Here we halted, and I took off my boots which my Arab carried in his hand. I was dripping with perspiration, but we hurried on up the face of the cliff to where we had heard the dogs. Here we found they had driven a wretched ibex into a corner. He had taken refuge in a hollow in the rock about halfway up a precipice about two hundred feet high. We crept like cats to the edge, and looked over; his horns were just visible below,—his body hidden, so that I could not shoot, though he was not above twenty feet below. We soon, however, found a place where I could creep down and hope to get a sight of him. So by slithering down on my back, and with the Arabs help, I eventually secured a position where I could see him about twenty yards on one side. He was “end on,” facing me, and looking down at the dogs, so there was little to aim at. Suddenly he saw me and raised his head,—an opportunity which I seized, and aimed well below his chin. The shot hit him just right fortunately, and he fell stone dead right to the bottom of the precipice. We now clambered round and secured the carcase from the hungry dogs who had not mauled it, but luckily contented themselves by licking up the blood. We carried our burden off, and found Powney had already pitched camp and got tea ready. We have had a few drops of rain here during the last few days, and this particular place is really quite cold. Powney sleeps in his Norsk reindeer bag, and does not find it too hot. We have got twenty days more to spend in the mountains, during which time we hope to get some sport, as there seems to be no Arabs here to disturb the game. My soldier servant fell asleep on his camel to-day and rolled off, much to everybody’s amusement.

January 23rd, 1891.

Powney went out to-day and visited the mountains on the Red Sea side of our camp, but saw no game. I stayed in camp in the morning and busied myself preparing the skin, head, and feet, &c., of yesterday’s ibex. I was sitting in the tent at about midday, when a “devil” suddenly came past and blew it down flat.[13] Luckily the bamboo ridge pole did not break, so we put up our home again; but presently another devil came, and blew it down a second time. We have now got guy ropes out from the tent poles and big rocks on all the pegs, so I hope we shall not get blown down again. In the evening I took my gun and visited the waterhole, distant about ten minutes walk. Our men had reported some partridges[14] (probably sandgrouse) as having been there in the morning, but none appeared when I was there. The well, which lies in a hollow at the foot of the mountains, is merely a hole scratched in the sand which contains about thirty gallons of dirty water, and is the worst we have so far seen; so dirty, in fact, that it has all to be boiled and filtered before we can use it. Hard by the well is a little stone enclosure containing a few miserable specimens of date palm, two mimosa bushes, and five Arab graves; this appears to be the Bedawi cemetery in these mountains. It is much colder here than at the Medisa camp; we are only one day from the Red Sea, which is visible from the mountain tops close by.

January 24th, 1891.

A very cold windy morning. The thermometer fell to “freezing” during the night. Took the pack of hounds out, and explored the mountains to the north-west; but saw no ibex and very little spoor. Found three small pools of dirty water in a deep gorge about an hour from here. These are not marked in the map which, however, only marks the places where there is “enough to water one hundred camels.” The north wind was like ice all day, and the fog of this morning never quite cleared off. Lovely sunset this evening. We are getting short of meat, so Powney or I will have to go hunting to-morrow (Sunday) from necessity.

January 25th, 1891.

Powney was out all day and saw nothing, a bitterly cold wind blowing, 33° Fahr. in the early morning. I suspect the ibex hide in the mountains this cold weather, and won’t come out. We had to kill our pet goat to-day for food, as we have no meat and our flour is running short. We make our bread now—half flour and half potatoes; this saves the former. I stayed in camp and spent the time in carving a saltspoon out of a piece of mimosa. Never took off my overcoat all day.

January 26th, 1891.

Cold night again, but lovely morning; cool wind which makes walking pleasant. Killed an ibex about five miles from camp in some low cinder mountains at the edge of the range. He, as usual, on being hunted by the dogs, took refuge in a cleft of the rock in the side of a low precipice. The express ·450 bullet cut his heart and lungs all to bits, but did no injury to the meat. It is a mistake to use an “express” for these beasts as, unless one hits them exactly in the right place, the meat is spoiled. Powney has a ·500 express, big enough to kill an ox with. If he does get any game it will be blown to pieces. Ernest’s rifle, which he lent me to bring out as a spare rifle, is a ·500 pure and simple. He said it was some bore which no one had ever heard of before. I wonder how he came to make such a mistake. The full moon looked lovely, rising behind the mountain, to-night. We amused ourselves playing picquet this evening, before dinner. We have to go to bed very early as candles are precious and getting scarce.

January 27th, 1891.

No game killed to-day, so nothing particular to record. One degree of frost last night. Took an inventory of our stores to-day. Our flour will only last four more days at the most, and the rice is nearly done. After a great deal of bargaining we managed to buy a bag containing about fifteen pounds of coarse native flour, price fifteen piastres. This we mixed with our old stock, and now have enough for ten days. We are on a fixed ration of food now, based on the supposition that we can reach Kenneh on February 15th. When the flour is all done we shall have to buy “dhurra” from our camel drivers, and grind it between two stones.

January 28th, 1891.

Struck camp early, and made a short march of three hours in a northerly direction. I went off, and hunted in the mountains towards the Red Sea. Saw no ibex, so joined Powney in our new camp, which I found he had pitched in a snug corner at the foot of a steep cliff. The thermometer registered one degree of frost again last night but reached 100° in the middle of the day.

January 29th, 1891.

Our pet thermometer recorded 33° of frost last night. I take it some one has been playing football with it during the night. Moved our camp to Badia, which is on the northern face of the mountains, and in full view of the Red Sea, which looks quite close. Mount Sinai is plainly visible on the far shore. This was once an old Roman Station.[15] There are still very substantial remains of two old forts, each about one hundred yards square, built of large stones and burnt bricks; some of these latter we have used for building an oven. The ground is covered in all directions with pieces of old pottery, but we have failed to discover anything of value. Our tent seems to be pitched on an ancient burial ground, as there are deep holes all round, full of old human bones. Probably if one dug one would find a few old relics; as, so far, only an odd tomb or two have been dug into. The water here is good, but one has to crawl down a narrow hole and scoop it out with a cup to get any at all. Our last ibex meat is finished, so I hope another will be killed by one of us to-morrow.

January 30th, 1891.

Eight degrees of frost last night; our tubs were very cold this morning. I was hardly warm enough with five rugs on my bed. Our flour will not last out, so we are sending off two camels to Kenneh to-morrow for more. They will take our letters for England. Our meat is all gone, so I was glad to see Powney returning to camp this evening with an ibex which he had got late in the afternoon. Whenever any of our people go to the wells in the mountains they always report having seen a few partridges there drinking. I have been there frequently with my gun, but have never seen one. To-day I passed the well with a rifle, and, of course, there were three fat partridges there, as tame as chickens. I ran back for my gun. They certainly awaited my return; but directly they saw I had a gun they flew off! It is astonishing how birds can distinguish between a gun and a rifle, and know that the latter is harmless to them!! I remember, in Norway, when on the Fjeld with a rifle, the ryper used to potter about round us like chickens; but if we took up a gun for the purpose of shooting them, not one would show itself all day!

I made an excellent oven with some old Roman bricks, and we have made half a dozen loaves since morning. We move a day’s journey south to-morrow to the Wadi Kittar. Our present plans are to return to Kenneh by February 12th, and then leave for England, arriving in London February 23rd, viâ Brindisi.

January 31st, 1891.

Seven degrees of frost last night! I got up early and visited the well before breakfast, but the birds were not there. I paid it another visit just before the caravan started, but again failed to see them, so shot a small bird for skinning purposes. On our arrival here at about 3.30 P.M. we found some fresh spoor, so I immediately started off with the dogs. The tracks led us about two miles up the Wadi, and then up a mountain. We followed at our best pace, and presently saw an ibex climbing up ahead of us. The wind was wrong, and it had got our scent. After a stiff climb, we came to a place where neither dogs nor men could follow, so had to give up the hunt and return home. The sun was hot to-day.

February 1st, 1891.

Spent an idle day in camp; skinned my little bird, and built an oven, which is now in full swing. This place is about 10° warmer than Badia.

February 2nd, 1891.

Breakfast at dawn, and made an early start up the Wadi in an easterly direction. The valley forks at about three miles, the south fork leading to Medisa, the north leads into the Munfia mountains, and eventually curls south-east to the Kohila water. The wind was north, so we started up the latter ravine. After clambering over the rocks for two miles we picked up some fresh spoor, which took us down a branch ravine leading south-east. We soon started a beast, but it ran down a precipice, down wind, where we could not follow, so we had to give it up, and pursue our way again up the main ravine. We came to a large rock with water at the foot, so we had a good drink without exhausting our water-bottles. It was now about 11.30 A.M., so we climbed over the rock and kept on north-east up the ravine, which here became full of green plants and rushes, with, in one place, quite a jungle of rushes, tamarisks, moringa, &c. I also found a shrub just like our whitethorn, but the leaf seemed a little different.[16] I am bringing a slip of it home, besides lots of seeds which are found here.[17] We now came to a place where the gorge forked, and saw fresh spoor leading up the northern arm. The wind would have been wrong for following it, so we went on up the eastern arm, meaning eventually to curl round and gain the wind by striking into the first gorge, where we expected the ibex was, higher up. This we succeeded in doing, after a weary climb of over an hour, and eventually came upon two beasts. They, as usual, were hidden amongst the rocks, and saw us first. However, we were right for the wind, and the dogs soon got on the scent of one of them; the other made off down wind, and escaped. The dogs were now gaining on their beast, and, after a while, brought it to bay on the side of a steep mountain. We hurried on, and, after a long bit of climbing without boots, eventually found ourselves at the top of a precipice, with the ibex at bay beyond, 150 yards off, on the side of the next mountain. It was impossible to get any closer; and, as the ibex was standing tail towards me, I did not know exactly how to aim. The head was just visible over her back, so I resolved to have a shot at that. Though much out of breath, I took as careful an aim as possible, and fired. She (it afterwards proved to be a “she”) dropped like a stone; and I was congratulating myself on having made a good shot, when I saw her stagger to her legs again, and stand in exactly the same position as before. I had another shot at the back of her head, but saw the bullet hit a stone just past her cheek. This made her turn slightly, so I took advantage of a chance behind the shoulder, and bowled her over, this time stone dead. We found my first shot had gone an inch too high, cutting off one of the horns at the base, as clean as if done with a knife. This had stunned her for a moment. The third shot entered the top of the shoulder, and, passing through the lungs, had come out at the neck at the other side.

After we had taken off the skin and fed the dogs on titbits from the inside, the two Arabs proceeded to collect a large heap of firewood, and presently came to me for a match; as they, thinking an Englishman was never without his match box, had carelessly left their tinder boxes at home! Their jaws dropped several holes when I explained that I had none, and blank despair was written on their faces. However, by means of the sun, the object glass of my telescope, and a handful of dry pounded ibex droppings, we soon, much to their wonder and delight, had a blazing fire going, large enough to roast an ox. I waited to see what would happen next, wondering what they wanted the fire for. Presently they went to the dead ibex, and collected from its inside various nasty portions which they put into the fire, and mixed up with the embers. After three minutes or so they dug out the half-cooked offal, and proceeded to devour it, after first bringing me a piece of stuff like a cinder which I declined with thanks in my best Arabic. In five minutes their meal was over, and we started off home, arriving at dusk after a hard day.

February 3rd, 1891.

The mystery of the War Office waterfall is solved! The map is right, but I was not wrong either, as there are two waterfalls, one as pretty as the other. The one I previously described is not mentioned in the description, nor marked on the map, so I claim to be the discoverer of it. I found the one marked on the map to-day, about six miles from here, up the arm of the ravine which I did not visit yesterday. Powney was going this way, stalking, so I went with him, intending to take some photographs at the head of the Wadi. Luckily, we suddenly came upon the cascade before I had used any of my plates. There is not so much water as in the Medisa fall, but the wall over which it flows is higher, probably about eighty feet, and the basin below is larger. But, on the other hand, there is only one, as against four at Medisa. The fall is covered with maidenhair fern, and a Syrian fig-tree spreads its branches over the pool.

About one hundred feet above the fall, and perched on a ledge of rock, is what Sir Gardner Wilkinson describes as an ancient church. He describes an inscription on it which I failed to find.[18] Having taken all my photographs and torn off a lump of fern, we set off home, and arrived hungry enough at 3 P.M. Powney returned at dark, having killed a “she” ibex. We are unlucky in having, so far, killed four “shes” out of five. But it can’t be helped, as we have no other source for getting meat.

To-morrow we shift camp to our original position at Medisa. Powney will go round the mountain with the caravan, and I shall re-visit the falls, walking thence across the mountains, about fourteen miles, till I meet him again at the camp in the evening.

February 4th, 1891.

Reached the “falls” in an hour and a half, after bidding goodbye to Kittar. We did not loiter there, but climbed on up the ravine in a southerly direction, till we reached the top of the “divide” between the Kittar and Medisa group of mountains. It was a very steep and tedious climb; and I thought we never should get to the top. But when we did, the view quite repaid us for our trouble. To the north east we could see the Red Sea, with Mount Sinai on the other side. It looked quite close, but was really nearly one hundred miles off. To the south we could see the desert stretching away right to the Nile. Having eaten our bread and cheese, we set off to clamber down the Medisa ravine. It was not by any means easy, and I parted with one of my soles about halfway down. However, we soon got down, and held our course along the gradually descending valley, till we reached the Medisa cascade, which is only three quarters of an hour from camp, which we reached at dusk, after a hard day. We saw no ibex, but several coveys of partridges. Powney had arrived with the camels and pitched camp on our old ground.

February 5th, 1891.

As Powney went out for ibex, I stayed about camp, and went for partridges to the water, but found nothing. Made a fresh oven. Powney saw no ibex.

February 6th, 1891.

Started early, and hunted the mountains in the direction of Kohila; but found the Wadi full of sheep instead of ibex. We made a mistake in leaving Kittar, as all the game seems to be there; it is quieter than the rest of the mountains. But we could not foresee that the Arabs would bring their sheep up here.[19] It was very hot and close all day, with a cloudy sky. The Arabs say we are in for a storm, so we have been putting out guy-ropes in all directions from the tent, and strengthening the pegs with rocks.

February 7th, 1891.

The Arabs were right, as a thunderstorm broke over us at bed-time last night. It lasted till this morning, and the lightning was very bright. We sat at our tent doors for a long time watching it playing around the mountains. The night was very hot and sultry, but there were only a few big drops of rain falling every now and again, and occasionally a heavy gust of wind. Rain is badly wanted here to fill up the wells, as there has been none for two years. The camels we sent to Kenneh on February 1st should be back by Monday with mails and provisions; but as there is no game here we have decided to leave to-morrow morning, and to meet the camels on their way here. We shall then be able to catch the steamer to Luxor on Friday 13th. We told our camel sheikh this evening, but he immediately began to raise objections, by saying we should miss the two camels from Kenneh, &c. This man has given us a lot of trouble all the way, though we have treated him very well. He is extremely greedy, and thinks we don’t know the road. However, we insisted, and ordered him to have the caravan ready by 7 A.M. This made him furious, and he said we might break his head before we should have the camels. His object is to delay us as long as possible, so as to get an extra day’s pay for the camel hire. We said nothing, and left him.

February 8th, 1891.

The kurbatch[20] was produced at an early hour this morning, and had a magical effect on Salaama (the camel sheikh). All his threats of last night vanished, and he ran about after his camels and men, and got the caravan in order in the shortest time on record. Nothing like a little persuasion!

Our water-skins were frozen hard last night, and the necks had to be thawed before we could get water out. At about midday we made out our two returning camels in the far distance, much to our delight and Salaama’s disgust. I hope he feels what a fool he has been. I jumped off my camel and ran to meet them. The saddle-bags were emptied of their contents—oranges, bread, rice, jam, candles, eggs, and letters. We have now ample provision for the rest of the journey. We should have been hard up if we had not met our relief camels, as our commissariat department contained one dhurra loaf and one box of Cornish pilchards. Did twenty miles to-day.

February 9th, 1891.

Twenty-miles done to-day in a march of nine hours, with half an hour for luncheon. My camel has a sore back.

February 10th, 1891.

Twenty miles to-day to Bir Arras. The wells here have been dry for nearly two years, and we found no scrub for firewood. This was against dinner, but we met the difficulty by felling a telegraph pole and chopping it up. This telegraph line used to go from Kenneh to the petroleum wells on the Red Sea. But it is not now used, so the poles were handy for cooking our dinner.

February 11th, 1891.

Arrived here at midday, and pitched camp outside the town at a well in the Muhammadan cemetery, as I prefer that to the mosquitoes, fleas, &c., in the so-called hotel. Powney has decided to sleep at the latter place. We both dined at the hotel, and were delighted to get a bit of meat, as we had tasted none since Powney shot the two sand grouse at Medisa. We were lucky to-day in finding the owner of the camels, so we squared up our accounts with him. He is an old man, nearly blind now, poor old chap, but still has a keen eye for business. He was full of apologies for the behaviour of Salaama, and, for a wonder, did not haggle over his account, which was rather complicated and amounted to over £50.

February 12th, 1891.

There was a wake going on all last night in my cemetery; beating of tomtoms and howling of women and dogs. I thought Powney must be having the best of it at the hotel, till I met him this morning, with his wrists as big as his legs from mosquito bites. I pitied him and said not a word about my disturbed night.

February 12th, 1891.

Our plans are suddenly all altered. Powney has received a telegram offering him a staff appointment in India, so he will not be able to visit Luxor, but must return to London at once. As I do not care about going alone, I have decided to come home with him. Fortunately we found a steamer, an extra one, leaving for Assiout to-day, so we hurriedly packed up, and here we are in the river. We shall catch a steamer leaving Ismailia on the 7th, arriving in London on February 23rd.