Origin of the Alans

[Alanus]

The Steadfast Horse, Part 2

The physical and mental link between rider and surefooted horse enabled the Pazyryks to traverse between valleys of the Altai for a period of two months between the flooding washouts of spring and the first snows of an exceeding long (and bitter) winter. That said, we might realize that George Kennon had not the luxury or bond with a steadfast mount. We have no idea what possessed the man to travel from the comforts of 19th century America to the abject physical cruelty of the high Altai. Just after 1880, he traveled the length of Czarist Russia (no doubt mostly by coach) until he reached Semipalatinsk, just north of the Altai.

   
Kennon's goal was to become the first man to photograph Mt. Belukha in the "Katunski Alps," it's summit at 14,784 feet above sea level. We are talking about high, thin, air that will reach 93 to 103 degrees in the shade... as he noted. He rode rented horses along trails only known by his guides, a 700 mile journey until he reached... "a Cossack station called Berel in the Buktarma Valley." His saddle was of local make, similar to the one pictured above (dated to the late 19th century).

   
George Kennon began his journey from Berel Station on the first of August, the "Katunski Alps" rising in the distance. We see him riding out of Buktarma Valley in what is now the Katon-Karagay National Park.

   
The "Katunski Alps" from the crest of the White Berel Mountains. (G. Kennon photo, U.S. National Archives)

   
Along the way, Kennon crosses a verdant valley, flowers and berries ripe for the picking. Perhaps this amazing anomaly called to the senses of the Arimaspi so long ago. In the land of harshness, there was untold sweetness. (Steel engravings in this post; The Century, August, 1888)

   
Kennon descends into the glacial gorge... "All the time there came up to us from the depths of the gorge the deep thunder of great glaciers, as masses of ice gave way... resembling the sound of a distant but heavy, and rapid, cannonade." The guide rode ahead, "We could no longer see him from where we stood, but every now and then a stone or small boulder, dislodged by his horse's feet, would leap suddenly into sight 300 or 400 feet below us, and go crashing down the mountainside, clearing 200 feet at every bound, and finally dashing itself to pieces against the rocks at the bottom."

   
This trek of man and mount must have been a daily event for Pazyryk men and women, a life based on untold and unseen danger, where one slip of your horse meant death. During the descent, Kennon remarked, "It was almost impossible to keep in the saddle on account of the steepness of the incline, and once I just escaped being pitched over my horse's head at the end of one of his short slides." (Glacial waterfall, Katon Alps; G. Kennon photo, U.S. National Archives.)


Kennon's rare and first-hand account, along with his photos and published engravings, help us see the ancient reality of traveling in the Altai. They depict the Berel region before modern roads, and they highlight the life-sustaining importance of the ancient, and sure-footed, Berel horse.