I am entering Taurida, or Crimea, into this nest from which for so many centuries the predatory Tatars, like locusts, flew into the borders of Russia, burned villages, our cities, robbed, killed civilians of the border provinces, and took their wives and babies into captivity. Peace was impossible with them; no treatises, no oaths on their part could be reliable; at the first opportunity that seemed convenient to them, with the slightest hope of success, they, no matter what, again invaded our borders and resumed their rampages. This was necessary for them. The people, accustomed to living by robbery, basing all their well-being on robbery, could not change. Consequently, not to mention the need for Russia to have piers on the Black Sea, the mere proximity of indomitable robbers could not be tolerated by a powerful state, and, without a doubt, one of Catherine’s greatest benefits was the conquest and annexation of the Crimean Peninsula to Russia. Prince Potemkin, who was entrusted with this important task, received the nickname Tauride from the Empress as a reward for his prudent execution.
It is likely that the Crimean peninsula was once completely separated from the mainland. At least this was the opinion of famous ancient and modern writers, such as Pliny, Herodotus, Strabo, Buffon, Pallas. You enter Crimea, in my opinion, through gates with arches. At the very entrance and in the middle of the isthmus stands Perekop, or Or-Kapy in Tatar, a stone fortress, almost regular, with six bastions, ravelins, curtains and deep ditches, also lined with stone. She's pretty strong. It houses the garrison, military commanders, and all the necessary needs, such as: various kinds of shops, a hospital, barracks, etc.; In the suburbs live only officials, who work at the salt lakes, and sutlers; other inhabitants, such as merchants, townspeople, artisans of all kinds, settled three miles from here, in a place called the Armenian Bazaar, through which the road runs from Perekop to Simferopol.
On the Perekop Gate there is an owl carved on a stone. It is believed that this was the coat of arms of the reigning princes of Genghis Khan's family. This city was taken by Russian troops under the command of Field Marshal Minich in 1736; then, for the second time, Prince Vasily Mikhailovich Dolgoruky in 1771; and in 1783 it already remained, with all of Crimea, under the rule of the Russian Sovereigns. It has an Orthodox church and one mosque; inhabitants: Russians, Tatars, Greeks, Armenians and Jews. There are extensive salt shops here. Salt is extracted from nearby lakes, and sits in them in the month of July. Every year, more than 25 thousand trucks (Chumak carts) export it from Crimea. The Crimean Isthmus has been fortified since ancient times to protect the peninsula from Tauro-Scythian raids. These fortifications consisted of a wall with towers, which is why the place received the name Neontychos (New Wall) from the Greeks. The present fortification was made by the Turks in the same place. It consists of an earthen rampart stretching from the Black Sea to Sivash, and a deep ditch lined with wild stone. This ditch is about 12 fathoms wide and 25 feet deep; it is still well preserved, but the shaft has subsided in some places. From Perekop to the Black Sea it extends 5½ versts, and there are three batteries in it; the strongest is by the sea. It is considered 3 miles to Sivash; there are only two batteries, one of which is located on Sivash itself. One cannot help but marvel at the accuracy with which Strabo, who had never been here, determined the width of the isthmus. He designates it in 40 stages; assuming almost 5 stadia in a verst, it turns out exactly our size - 8½ versts. How can one not conclude from this that one can confidently rely on the careful accuracy of the Greek geographer in his description of the Black and Azov Seas and the Tauride Peninsula.
Looking at the map, it can easily be seen that three-quarters of the peninsula to the north consists of an extensive valley or steppe, gradually rising towards midday; there are no mountains, no trees, no streams. Only near Simferopol the scene changes.
After the famous Pallas, I will not begin to describe the salt lakes near which I passed. It should be added that the time of year was also inconvenient for viewing them. Salt, as I think I said above, sits in them in July; and I went in April. The first station, Terekly-Koshun, was 26 miles away. I rode them in two hours. From here I drove across a beautiful stone bridge with arches, built by the Turks on an arm emerging from the sea and breaking through curves quite far into the steppe. 18 versts further I reached the second station, Dyurmen; from here the steppe rises noticeably; Tatar villages and cemeteries are visible on the sides. At 26 versts I stopped at the Aybar station.