Again the hills opened after our passage of the river, and, nearing Ashkala, composed a plain. We reached our destination at a quarter to seven, beneath the shadows of night. It is a Mohammedan village of some size, with a few Armenian houses; the houses are above ground. The valley must have in places a width of six or seven miles. Its character became apparent as we rose above it on the following morning, after crossing an affluent to the Frat, called the Kara Hasan Su, which was almost concealed by a crust of ice. Like the plain of Erzerum, it has probably been covered with a sheet of water during no very remote geological period. The floor of the valley presents, in fact, an almost level surface; but a special feature in this second lake-like extension of the Euphrates basin is a bold mass of rock which protrudes in the neighbourhood of the village, isolated from the heights upon the north. The close resemblance of this hill to some of the spurs from those heights suggested the conception of a remote age when this valley was in its infancy, and the mountains which now rise on its opposite margins were integral parts of a single block of elevated land. The further we advanced towards the west, the more the plain narrowed; we were pursuing a diagonal course along the lower slopes of the northern barrier, and we could see the river at some distance, partly ice-encrusted, and partly threading the snow in several tiny channels. [214] February 7.--We had left Ashkala (5520 feet) at half-past eight, with the promise of a perfect day; for the vapours had become collected into shining masses, and the sun was mounting into a clear, blue sky. Just before losing the landscape of the plain, I stopped to take a photograph of the summit-formation of a spur from the northern range (Fig. 170). I was struck by the resemblance of the flat edge of this eminence to the outworks of the Bingöl plateau. A little later we entered a side valley through which flowed a small and partially ice-bound stream. Proceeding up it a short distance on a northerly course, we arrived at eleven o'clock in the pretty alpine village of Pirnakapan. Beyond this Mussulman hamlet, which is graced by a grove of willow trees, the valley becomes a gorge. So steep are the crags which overhang it that in many places they were free from snow. We were now at a level of about 6000 feet, and, as it were, about to take the ascent. The rocks of this region are highly folded, and consist of serpentines and limestones weathered to various hues. Two partridges were seated fearlessly on one of the ledges a few yards from where we rode. The actual climb begins a little further on, where the scene opens and you stand at the bottom of the towering wall. There is situated among the snows the Southern Kop Khan, from which the start is made. You see the chaussée winding in a long series of spirals to a lofty gallery of the range. It covers a distance between Pirnakapan and the pass of about 7 1/2 miles.