Page:The Northern Ḥeǧâz (1926).djvu/138

 On Monday, June 13, 1910, we started off at 4.47 A. M. (temperature: 26.8° C), leaving the Pilgrim Route that leads to the southeast and proceeding southward to al-Ḫrajbe. This region is full of lofty, oblong heights with steep, rocky slopes and broad, fertile valleys; but the latter were completely parched, as there had been no adequate rain for the last four years. There was an impressive view to the east, where the sun was just rising. A chain of high granite mountains, extending toward the southeast to within about fifty kilometers of the shore, concealed the sun in such a way that isolated rays penetrated only through the deep mountain gaps. The eastern peaks and angles of the granite summits shone with a clear light, while the western parts lay swathed in a dark blue curtain. Two thirds of the whole range were almost invisible, for dense vapors rested on them; only the upper third projected above the mists. I felt as if I were standing before a great exhibition of ecclesiastical architecture, save that I was not confronted with small patterns or diagrams of the various styles but with temples of all possible shapes in their natural sizes or even of gigantic dimensions. There was perhaps no variety of Gothic which was not represented there. The roofs and towers glittered in the sun’s rays and around them could be seen Gothic churches with countless turrets and windows, unequaled in wealth of ornament even by the Milan cathedral. Magnificent domes were displayed in every possible variety of style, and among them the attention was held by a number of cupolas, reminiscent of baroque architecture in its prime. Nor were the simple and magnificent forms of the earliest basilicas missing. And all these towers, turrets, roofs, columns, pillars, and statues were as if festively illuminated, shining with the clearest luster, while the houses and churches below were hidden in a mysterious twilight. My eye fondly clung to this splendid picture, and my only desire was that the sun should rise quite gradually. But suddenly the pure orb leaped above the highest towers, and all those temples, houses, and basilicas disappeared, leaving only the bare parched rocks before us. How beautiful is mere illusion, how prosaic is reality!

At 5.02 we rode through the broad šeʻîb of al-Mrâḥ, in which the luxuriant, dark green ʻasla grows.

To the east of this valley rise the plateaus of aṣ-Ṣeʻede and Radma, and above these plateaus project the isolated black cones and ridges of