About half-past four we reached our appointed camping place, at
Aïn Oumast, one of the few wells of drinkable water found in the
region we had now entered. In the coast zone it would appear that
in ordinary years the rainfall is sufficient to enable the natives
to raise grain crops wherever the soil is suitable for the purpose;
but in the interior, cultivation is limited to the tracts that are
capable of irrigation from the streams descending from the Great
Atlas, or else to the immediate neighbourhood of wells. The ground
around Aïn Oumast had borne a scanty crop of grain, and the rough
surface, now baked hard by the sun, was not very comfortable for
sleeping upon, even with the intervention of a mattress of cork
shavings.
For a short way before our arrival, the main chain of the Great
Atlas had for the first time been in view, dimly apparent at a
distance of some sixty miles; but as the sun declined towards the
horizon, the outlines became clearer, and we naturally watched
with increasing interest every feature of that mysterious range
seen, even from a distance, by few civilised men, whose recesses we
hoped to be the first to explore. We discussed eagerly the question
whether some patches of lighter colour represented snow, or merely
surfaces of whitish limestone rock; and, as usual, the only effect
of discussion was to confirm each in the impression first formed,
which it was impossible to verify or disprove unless, by viewing
the range from the same direction under similar conditions at a
later season, we could discover whether the appearances in question
should have altered or disappeared.
The _mona_ presented by the Kaïd or sheik of the place was naturally
less profuse than that offered at Shedma, but yet abundant for the
needs of our camp. As almost everywhere, save in the remoter valleys
of the Atlas, green tea and a quantity of white sugar formed a main
feature in the entertainment, and doubtless the most expensive to
the poor people who had to provide it.
The day had been warm, though not oppressive, the thermometer
probably standing at about 80° Fahr. in the shade, and the fall of
temperature during the night was very sensible. Even after the sun
had risen on May 1—soon after five A.M.—the thermometer marked
only 54° Fahr., but by six A.M. it reached 67°. The observation
for altitude gave 1,132 feet (345·5 m.) above the sea; probably too
low by fifty or sixty feet, owing to the local effect of radiation
in depressing the temperature of the air in contact with the surface.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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