Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1898-08-24
SANDSTONE IN THE DESERT.
The Heat Is SufEocating and the Sand Cuts
the Skin Like Knives.
commission

SANDS IORM IN / FtE DESERBs
The Heat Is SufEocating and the Sand Cuts
the Skin Like Knives.
Mr.. r. Talbot Kelly writes and IL
illustrates an article entitled my
( Bedouin Friends" for The Century.
Mr.. Kelly says of the dreaded sand
storm:
The air is hot and sulphurous,
while the sun becomes lurid and
sickly in it's glare At first the hot
wind comes in slight pufs, like
breaths from a kiln, but each mo-
ment it increases in velocity, carry
ing with it more and more fine drift
sand, which, binding the eyes and
choking the lungs, gradually pro-.
duces a most distressing feeling of
depression and suffocation. By de-
grees, as the storm gains strength,
little splinters of rock and small
pebbles are lifted up and hurled at
one like hailstones, cutting the skin
like knives, until eyes and ears are
full of blood, unless one has been
able to protect himself against the
blast The native cutia, or silk,
scarf, wrapped round the head and
face and leaving only the eyes ex-
posed, is the most effective protec-
ton, but the heat is suffocating and
quickly reduces one to impotence.
AS the storm continues perhaps for
| several days, the sun becomes totally
obscured, while the ever moving
sand gradually assumes the appear
ance Of pillows, threatening to over
whelm everything. Nothing can be.
distinctly seen above. orareund, and
the moving sand drifts, splashing
and breaking like. surf upon rocks,
are slowly. but surely enveloping
everything in camp and piling up
tons of drift against tents and bag
gage Es.'S
Camp equipage is hastily packed
and loaded upon the terror stricken
animals, and the party starts to ride
obliquely through the storm toward
the nearest high ground or noun
tain spur To remain still means
to be covered and entombed. Even
should water skins not be cracked
or dried up, in any attempts to
drink the sufferer absorbs as much
dust as water, and his plight is
worse than before. Eating is out of
the question; smoking is equally
impossible. Forty-eight hours have
I ridden in such circumstances,
changing horses from time to time
as they became too much distressed
for further use and until | had
hardly power to mount. After such
ride as this it may well BIZ mag
ined how we relished our first halt
in the shelter Of a friendly hill and
enjoyed the luxury of dish of sour
milk and, above all, a smoke.
Fortunately the khamsin, though
supposed to last for SO days, is in
termittent in its energy, three days
blow being usually followed by a
few fine days, and, as rule, it's vio-
lence is not sufficient to be a source
of danger. AS showing the velocity
of wind sometimes attained, l re-
member seeing IN the Delta a palm
tree, probably 60 feet in height, |
bent over by the wind until its crest
swept the ground and excavated a !
large hole il. the. course of thesday |
Besides the khamsin, there aresother /
forms of sandstone which, though /
of shorter duration, come with a !
suddenness and vehemence that al +
most defy protection. The most 7
scur1ous of these is perhaps what is !
locally called "a devil, sudden /
gust of windI eddying down the T
mountain gorges and bursting on
the desert like a .Whirlwind, carry /
ing pillars OF sand with it.
Another curious phase Of the
sandstorm is one that / experienced I
in the Eibyan desert The weather
was perfectly fine, and was work
ing comfortably at my picture when
suddenly | noticed in the horizon
what appeared to be. a cloud, black
in its upper region and orange be- |.
low Before / had time to realize
what was happening a blast of cold
wind whirled away picture and easel
and enveloped me in dust and flying
pebbles. A moment later dust had
turned to dropping mud, which in
turn gave place to torrential rain,
drenching me to the skin and effec-
tually washing the sand out of my
system. After that were peace and
genial sunshine once more.