A Group of Fathers—The Lebungé Ainos—The _Salisburia adiantifolia_—A
Family Group—The Missing Link—Oshamambé—Disorderly Horses—The River
Yurapu—The Seaside—Aino Canoes—The Last Morning—Dodging Europeans.
HAKODATÉ, _September_ 12.
LEBUNGÉ is a most fascinating place in its awful isolation. The
house-master was a friendly man, and much attached to the Ainos. If
other officials entrusted with Aino concerns treat the Ainos as
fraternally as those of Usu and Lebungé, there is not much to lament.
This man also gave them a high character for honesty and harmlessness,
and asked if they might come and see me before I left; so twenty men,
mostly carrying very pretty children, came into the yard with the horses.
They had never seen a foreigner, but, either from apathy or politeness,
they neither stare nor press upon one as the Japanese do, and always make
a courteous recognition. The bear-skin housing of my saddle pleased them
very much, and my boots of unblacked leather, which they compare to the
deer-hide moccasins which they wear for winter hunting. Their voices
were the lowest and most musical that I have heard, incongruous sounds to
proceed from such hairy, powerful-looking men. Their love for their
children was most marked. They caressed them tenderly, and held them
aloft for notice, and when the house-master told them how much I admired
the brown, dark-eyed, winsome creatures, their faces lighted with
pleasure, and they saluted me over and over again. These, like other
Ainos, utter a short screeching sound when they are not pleased, and then
one recognises the savage.
These Lebungé Ainos differ considerably from those of the eastern
villages, and I have again to notice the decided sound or _click_ of the
_ts_ at the beginning of many words. Their skins are as swarthy as those
of Bedaween, their foreheads comparatively low, their eyes far more
deeply set their stature lower, their hair yet more abundant, the look of
wistful melancholy more marked, and two, who were unclothed for hard work
in fashioning a canoe, were almost entirely covered with short, black
hair, specially thick on the shoulders and back, and so completely
concealing the skin as to reconcile one to the lack of clothing. I
noticed an enormous breadth of chest, and a great development of the
muscles of the arms and legs. All these Ainos shave their hair off for
two inches above their brows, only allowing it there to attain the length
of an inch. Among the well-clothed Ainos in the yard there was one
smooth-faced, smooth-skinned, concave-chested, spindle-limbed, yellow
Japanese, with no other clothing than the decorated bark-cloth apron
which the Ainos wear in addition to their coats and leggings. Escorted
by these gentle, friendly savages, I visited their lodges, which are very
small and poor, and in every way inferior to those of the mountain Ainos.
The women are short and thick-set, and most uncomely.
From their village I started for the longest, and by reputation the
worst, stage of my journey, seventeen miles, the first ten of which are
over mountains. So solitary and disused is this track that on a four
days’ journey we have not met a human being. In the Lebungé valley,
which is densely forested, and abounds with fordable streams and
treacherous ground, I came upon a grand specimen of the _Salisburia
adiantifolia_, which, at a height of three feet from the ground, divides
into eight lofty stems, none of them less than 2 feet 5 inches in
diameter. This tree, which grows rapidly, is so well adapted to our
climate that I wonder it has not been introduced on a large scale, as it
may be seen by everybody in Kew Gardens. There is another tree with
orbicular leaves in pairs, which grows to an immense size.
From this valley a worn-out, stony bridle-track ascends the western side
of Lebungétogé, climbing through a dense forest of trees and trailers to
a height of about 2000 feet, where, contented with its efforts, it
reposes, and, with only slight ups and downs, continues along the top of
a narrow ridge within the seaward mountains, between high walls of dense
bamboo, which, for much of that day’s journey, is the undergrowth alike
of mountain and valley, ragged peak, and rugged ravine. The scenery was
as magnificent as on the previous day. A guide was absolutely needed, as
the track ceased altogether in one place, and for some time the horses
had to blunder their way along a bright, rushing river, swirling rapidly
downwards, heavily bordered with bamboo, full of deep holes, and made
difficult by trees which have fallen across it. There Ito, whose horse
could not keep up with the others, was lost, or rather lost himself,
which led to a delay of two hours. I have never seen grander forest than
on that two days’ ride.
At last the track, barely passable after its recovery, dips over a
precipitous bluff, and descends close to the sea, which has evidently
receded considerably. Thence it runs for six miles on a level, sandy
strip, covered near the sea with a dwarf bamboo about five inches high,
and farther inland with red roses and blue campanula.
At the foot of the bluff there is a ruinous Japanese house, where an Aino
family has been placed to give shelter and rest to any who may be
crossing the pass. I opened my _bentô bako_ of red lacquer, and found
that it contained some cold, waxy potatoes, on which I dined, with the
addition of some tea, and then waited wearily for Ito, for whom the guide
went in search. The house and its inmates were a study. The ceiling was
gone, and all kinds of things, for which I could not imagine any possible
use, hung from the blackened rafters. Everything was broken and decayed,
and the dirt was appalling. A very ugly Aino woman, hardly human in her
ugliness, was splitting bark fibre. There were several _irori_, Japanese
fashion, and at one of them a grand-looking old man was seated
apathetically contemplating the boiling of a pot. Old, and sitting among
ruins, he represented the fate of a race which, living, has no history,
and perishing leaves no monument. By the other _irori_ sat, or rather
crouched, the “MISSING LINK.” I was startled when I first saw it. It
was—shall I say?—a man, and the mate, I cannot write the husband, of the
ugly woman. It was about fifty. The lofty Aino brow had been made still
loftier by shaving the head for three inches above it. The hair hung,
not in shocks, but in snaky wisps, mingling with a beard which was grey
and matted. The eyes were dark but vacant, and the face had no other
expression than that look of apathetic melancholy which one sometimes
sees on the faces of captive beasts. The arms and legs were unnaturally
long and thin, and the creature sat with the knees tucked into the
armpits. The limbs and body, with the exception of a patch on each side,
were thinly covered with fine black hair, more than an inch long, which
was slightly curly on the shoulders. It showed no other sign of
intelligence than that evidenced by boiling water for my tea. When Ito
arrived he looked at it with disgust, exclaiming, “The Ainos are just
dogs; they had a dog for their father,” in allusion to their own legend
of their origin.
The level was pleasant after the mountains, and a canter took us
pleasantly to Oshamambé, where we struck the old road from Mori to
Satsuporo, and where I halted for a day to rest my spine, from which I
was suffering much. Oshamambé looks dismal even in the sunshine, decayed
and dissipated, with many people lounging about in it doing nothing, with
the dazed look which over-indulgence in _saké_ gives to the eyes. The
sun was scorching hot, and I was glad to find refuge from it in a crowded
and dilapidated _yadoya_, where there were no black beans, and the use of
eggs did not appear to be recognised. My room was only enclosed by
_shôji_, and there were scarcely five minutes of the day in which eyes
were not applied to the finger-holes with which they were liberally
riddled; and during the night one of them fell down, revealing six
Japanese sleeping in a row, each head on a wooden pillow.
The grandeur of the route ceased with the mountain-passes, but in the
brilliant sunshine the ride from Oshamambé to Mori, which took me two
days, was as pretty and pleasant as it could be. At first we got on very
slowly, as besides my four horses there were four led ones going home,
which got up fights and entangled their ropes, and occasionally lay down
and rolled; and besides these there were three foals following their
mothers, and if they stayed behind the mares hung back neighing, and if
they frolicked ahead the mares wanted to look after them, and the whole
string showed a combined inclination to dispense with their riders and
join the many herds of horses which we passed. It was so tedious that,
after enduring it for some time I got Ito’s horse and mine into a scow at
a river of some size, and left the disorderly drove to follow at leisure.
At Yurapu, where there is an Aino village of thirty houses, we saw the
last of the aborigines, and the interest of the journey ended. Strips of
hard sand below high-water mark, strips of red roses, ranges of wooded
mountains, rivers deep and shallow, a few villages of old grey houses
amidst grey sand and bleaching driftwood, and then came the river Yurapu,
a broad, deep stream, navigable in a canoe for fourteen miles. The
scenery there was truly beautiful in the late and splendid afternoon.
The long blue waves rolled on shore, each one crested with light as it
curled before it broke, and hurled its snowy drift for miles along the
coast with a deep booming music. The glorious inland view was composed
of six ranges of forest-covered mountains, broken, chasmed, caverned, and
dark with timber, and above them bald, grey peaks rose against a green
sky of singular purity. I longed to take a boat up the Yurapu, which
penetrates by many a gorge into their solemn recesses, but had not
strength to carry my wish.
After this I exchanged the silence or low musical speech of Aino guides
for the harsh and ceaseless clatter of Japanese. At Yamakushinoi, a
small hamlet on the sea-shore, where I slept, there was a sweet, quiet
_yadoya_, delightfully situated, with a wooded cliff at the back, over
which a crescent hung out of a pure sky; and besides, there were the more
solid pleasures of fish, eggs, and black beans. Thus, instead of being
starved and finding wretched accommodation, the week I spent on Volcano
Bay has been the best fed, as it was certainly the most comfortable, week
of my travels in northern Japan.
Another glorious day favoured my ride to Mori, but I was unfortunate in
my horse at each stage, and the Japanese guide was grumpy and
ill-natured—a most unusual thing. Otoshibé and a few other small
villages of grey houses, with “an ancient and fish-like smell,” lie along
the coast, busy enough doubtless in the season, but now looking deserted
and decayed, and houses are rather plentifully sprinkled along many parts
of the shore, with a wonderful profusion of vegetables and flowers about
them, raised from seeds liberally supplied by the _Kaitakushi_ Department
from its Nanai experimental farm and nurseries. For a considerable part
of the way to Mori there is no track at all, though there is a good deal
of travel. One makes one’s way fatiguingly along soft sea sand or coarse
shingle close to the sea, or absolutely in it, under cliffs of hardened
clay or yellow conglomerate, fording many small streams, several of which
have cut their way deeply through a stratum of black volcanic sand. I
have crossed about 100 rivers and streams on the Yezo coast, and all the
larger ones are marked by a most noticeable peculiarity, i.e. that on
nearing the sea they turn south, and run for some distance parallel with
it, before they succeed in finding an exit through the bank of sand and
shingle which forms the beach and blocks their progress.
On the way I saw two Ainos land through the surf in a canoe, in which
they had paddled for nearly 100 miles. A river canoe is dug out of a
single log, and two men can fashion one in five days; but on examining
this one, which was twenty-five feet long, I found that it consisted of
two halves, laced together with very strong bark fibre for their whole
length, and with high sides also laced on. They consider that they are
stronger for rough sea and surf work when made in two parts. Their
bark-fibre rope is beautifully made, and they twist it of all sizes, from
twine up to a nine-inch hawser.
Beautiful as the blue ocean was, I had too much of it, for the horses
were either walking in a lather of sea foam or were crowded between the
cliff and the sea, every larger wave breaking over my foot and
irreverently splashing my face; and the surges were so loud-tongued and
incessant, throwing themselves on the beach with a tremendous boom, and
drawing the shingle back with them with an equally tremendous rattle, so
impolite and noisy, bent only on showing their strength, reckless, rude,
self-willed, and inconsiderate! This purposeless display of force, and
this incessant waste of power, and the noisy self-assertion in both,
approach vulgarity!
Towards evening we crossed the last of the bridgeless rivers, and put up
at Mori, which I left three weeks before, and I was very thankful to have
accomplished my object without disappointment, disaster, or any
considerable discomfort. Had I not promised to return Ito to his master
by a given day, I should like to spend the next six weeks in the Yezo
wilds, for the climate is good, the scenery beautiful, and the objects of
interest are many.
Another splendid day favoured my ride from Mori to Togénoshita, where I
remained for the night, and I had exceptionally good horses for both
days, though the one which Ito rode, while going at a rapid “scramble,”
threw himself down three times and rolled over to rid himself from flies.
I had not admired the wood between Mori and Ginsainoma (the lakes) on the
sullen, grey day on which I saw it before, but this time there was an
abundance of light and shadow and solar glitter, and many a scarlet spray
and crimson trailer, and many a maple flaming in the valleys, gladdened
me with the music of colour. From the top of the pass beyond the lakes
there is a grand view of the volcano in all its nakedness, with its lava
beds and fields of pumice, with the lakes of Onuma, Konuma, and
Ginsainoma, lying in the forests at its feet, and from the top of another
hill there is a remarkable view of windy Hakodaté, with its headland
looking like Gibraltar. The slopes of this hill are covered with the
_Aconitum Japonicum_, of which the Ainos make their arrow poison.
The _yadoya_ at Togénoshita was a very pleasant and friendly one, and
when Ito woke me yesterday morning, saying, “Are you sorry that it’s the
last morning? I am,” I felt we had one subject in common, for I was very
sorry to end my pleasant Yezo tour, and very sorry to part with the boy
who had made himself more useful and invaluable even than before. It was
most wearisome to have Hakodaté in sight for twelve miles, so near across
the bay, so far across the long, flat, stony strip which connects the
headland upon which it is built with the mainland. For about three miles
the road is rudely macadamised, and as soon as the bare-footed horses get
upon it they seem lame of all their legs; they hang back, stumbling,
dragging, edging to the side, and trying to run down every opening, so
that when we got into the interminable main street I sent Ito on to the
Consulate for my letters, and dismounted, hoping that as it was raining I
should not see any foreigners; but I was not so lucky, for first I met
Mr. Dening, and then, seeing the Consul and Dr. Hepburn coming down the
road, evidently dressed for dining in the flag-ship, and looking spruce
and clean, I dodged up an alley to avoid them; but they saw me, and did
not wonder that I wished to escape notice, for my old _betto’s_ hat, my
torn green paper waterproof, and my riding-skirt and boots, were not only
splashed but _caked_ with mud, and I had the general look of a person
“fresh from the wilds.”