JOURNEY TO K’UEI-HUA-CH’ÊNG: THE T’AI HAI
Arrived at Kalgan, we were delayed some days, owing to the usual bother
in hiring carts. It happened that Brodie and Schröder had been ordered
to proceed to K’uei-hua-ch’êng on business, so we decided to travel
together. Carts were finally secured and sent on to Yang-kao, the
present terminus of the Chang-sui Extension of the Peking-Kalgan
Railway.
On April 29 we took train at Kalgan, and, after about six hours’
journey, reached Yang-kao, where we found our carts awaiting us. The
Chang-sui Extension line runs in a general south-westerly direction from
Kalgan, and is intended ultimately to extend as far as K’uei-hua-ch’êng,
and the Yellow River, probably at He-k’ou.
From here it is intended to have a steamboat service to Lan-chou Fu.
Already a light-draught, stern-wheel steamer has been built and launched
upon this section of the river. If this enterprise succeeds, as it
should do, the long journey from Peking to Lan-chou Fu will be reduced
from thirty odd to seven days. This will open up the vast areas of
Western Kansu, the New Dominion and Eastern Thibet to trade with the
coast, and the results must be very far reaching. Hitherto the barges
which have brought commerce down the river have been unable to return;
but, with steamers passing up and down, this difficulty will be solved.
Better and stronger barges will be built to be towed to and fro,
carrying commerce up as well as down the river. But all this is
indefinitely postponed owing to the disturbed state of the country and
the lack of funds at the Capital.
Yang-kao, the present terminus of the railway, is about ninety miles
from Kalgan, and lies on the edge of the Ta-t’ung Fu plain, just south
of the outer loop of the Great Wall, and within the eastern border of
Shansi.
The railway, after going south from Kalgan for about four miles, turns
abruptly to the west, skirting the end of a ridge of high hills. It next
takes a diagonal course across the wide valley of the Ta-yang Ho, which
splits up into three rivers, called Tung-yang Ho, Hsi-yang Ho and
Nan-yang Ho respectively, just before Tsai-kou-pu, a town thirty miles
from Kalgan, is reached. The line crosses the first two of these rivers
before reaching the station of Tsai-kou-pu. It subsequently follows the
course of the last, which is narrow and tortuous. It continues winding
up this valley, which gradually widens and finally opens out into a
small plain adjacent to that of Ta-t’ung Fu, from which it is separated
only by a very slight rise.
The scenery along the line is picturesque only round Tsai-kou-pu, though
the high mountains north of Yang-kao have a rough beauty of their own.
Along the base of this range the Great Wall, which has been lost sight
of since leaving Kalgan, can be seen running parallel with the railway
line. In places the country passed through appeared to be extremely
fertile, though there are great stretches of land composed of rubble and
rocky debris, brought down from the granite mountains, upon which
nothing but a few straggling willows and poplars grow.
As a severe sandstorm was raging when we arrived at Yang-kao, we decided
to spend the night there and continue our journey next day. The town
itself presented nothing of interest. It was, at the time of our first
visit, of the usual type of small border town. A few months later,
however, when I had occasion to visit it once more, the change was
remarkable. In one summer an extensive trade in grain sprang into
existence in the district, and Yang-kao being the centre of this
district, and the terminus of the railway, by which the grain was
shipped out of the country, assumed for the time being a commercial
importance superior to any other town in North Shansi. Godowns, inns,
hotels and even private houses sprang up like mushrooms round the
station, while there poured in from all parts of the northern section of
the province strings of carts laden with sorghum, millet and linseed.
Large firms in Tientsin, which had never heard of the town before, found
it worth their while to send European agents to buy up grain for them.
This prosperity did not last, however, for the moment the line was
carried on to Ta-t’ung Fu and towns beyond, a great bulk of the grain
shipped at Yang-kao was shipped at these towns instead. The line itself,
however, will remain of the greatest importance, as tapping a very
extensive agricultural area. A few more such railways, carefully run,
would go far towards bringing in a steady revenue to the Chinese
Government, besides developing the hitherto poverty-stricken districts
along the Chinese frontiers of Mongolia.
The morning of April 30 broke fine and clear, so that we made an early
start. Travelling northward, we soon reached the mouth of a deep valley
in the mountains, entering which we turned westward up a side gorge. By
noon we had reached the end of the latter, and crossing a low, almost
imperceptible ridge, marked by the crumbling towers of the Great Wall as
it passes from north to south across the road, entered a rather wide
valley. We made a large village named Kuan-t’ung-pu by dusk, and put up
for the night.
Next day, shortly after leaving this village, we climbed a short ascent,
and found ourselves upon a low, rolling tableland, which on examination
proved to be formed by an extensive lava flow. In places where the rock
was bare of soil it presented the appearance of a causeway paved with
hexagonal flagstones, indicating columnar structure beneath. We put up
several hares, which were bagged. A large flock of cranes was also seen,
but they were too wary to allow of a near approach. Further on a goose
was shot, but after flying a long way, it dropped upon a boulder-strewn
ridge, and could not be found. After about two hours’ journey we came to
the western edge of the lava flow, from which we looked down upon a wide
valley and winding river. The steep and rocky descent was negotiated by
means of a zig-zag road without mishap. Some more hares and two
partridges were put up and shot. Out on the river bank some large flocks
of geese could be seen. In trying to get at these Schröder surprised and
shot a bustard, while Warrington and Brodie got some good shots at a
flight of ducks.
Travelling up the valley we halted for lunch at Fên-chêng, a large and
important town, with the rank of T’ing. After leaving this place we
found ourselves on a flat, grassy plain. In places this was inclined to
be marshy, where amongst the tussocks of “nigger-head” grass, we put up
a great many hares, several of which were secured. Two Swinhoe’s ducks,
rising from a small stream, were knocked over with a nice right and
left, while a late snipe was also added to the day’s bag, which had now
reached the respectable tally of six hares, four ducks, two partridges,
one bustard and a snipe. Four of the hares, two ducks, one of the
partridges and the snipe fell to my gun; Brodie claimed two hares and a
duck; Schröder, who was using a ·22 Winchester, the bustard; while to
Warrington, who, having a tiresome pony to manage, had left his gun in
the cart after lunch, belonged the remaining duck and partridge. We
found comfortable quarters that night at a small village named
Ma-ch’ang-ling.
Next day the sport was as good as that already enjoyed, though the
honours were more evenly divided, the day’s bag being four hares, two
ducks, two plovers and a goose. It is this abundance of mixed small game
which lends the chief charm to travel in the interior of China. One may
always expect to find something to shoot. There are districts, of
course, where no game is met with at all, but fortunately these are not
many, usually occurring along much frequented highways in thickly
populated areas.
The country passed through this day was similar to that already
traversed. By noon we reached the T’ai Hai (Great Sea), a large lake,
which lies in the hollow of a great basin-like plain. To the north lies
a chain of high and pointed mountains of granite. Eastward the plain is
bounded by low hills of volcanic origin. The same may be said of the
southern rim, while the western boundary is formed by a low spur from
the high mountains to the north. There is no outlet. The lake is said to
be very deep, especially on the eastern side. The water is very
brackish. We were told that there were no fish in it, though there seems
to be some doubt upon this point. In length the lake is about fifteen
miles, and seven or eight in breadth. Its greatest length is from east
to west. From the inn, where we had lunch, we could see, with the aid of
field-glasses, that the edge of the lake was swarming with wild fowl.
Notwithstanding this fact, we found time to demolish the bustard, which
the cook had prepared for us the night before. It was a ten-pound bird,
so the healthy state of our appetites may be guessed.
After lunch, having given directions to the carters where to halt for
the night, we hurried down to the lake, expecting to enjoy some good
shooting. We were disappointed, however, for at our approach the birds,
amongst which were several large swans, rose thundering from the margin,
and, skimming over the surface of the lake, settled safely out of range.
Nothing we could do would induce them to rise and circle.
While waiting for the ducks to come within range, we witnessed a
peculiar sight. Heavy yellow clouds began to bank up to the north of the
lake. Soon we could make out that an unusually severe sandstorm was
approaching. The solid looking clouds towered high above the mountains,
and as they came on with incredible speed, blotted out the scenery as
though some ruthless hand had wiped a picture off the canvas with a
sponge. Thinking that this would probably bring the ducks in to shore,
we waited. At last the storm, sweeping over the lake and churning the
surface into foam, struck us. Suddenly the temperature dropped from that
of a sweltering hot day to below 40° Fahrenheit, chilling us to the
bone. At the same time the driving rain, thick with the dust it had
absorbed, whipped our faces and literally plastered us with mud. No
ducks came to shore, so at last we mounted our ponies in disgust and
hurried after the carts. We caught them up at a village named
Ma-hu-t’ung, and, as the wind and rain continued with unabated fury, we
decided to stop here for the night.
We were skirting the eastern shore of the lake, intending to take a
newly opened route through the high mountains to the north of the lake,
instead of the usual southerly route.
The two days following were uneventful, except that the temperature
remained very low, so that we were forced to go back into winter clothes
once more. Our road lay along deep mountain valleys, the sides of which
were chiefly of granite, very bare and rugged, and we crossed two steep
passes. By the end of the second day we had reached the edge of the
K’uei-hua-ch’êng plain, crossing which we reached that town at noon next
day.
We spent one day looking round the town and lazing about, while a coolie
was sent in search of an old Mongol hunter. Our friends of course had
their business to attend to, which would keep them in town a few days.
K’uei-hua-ch’êng, though in no way like the usual cities of North China,
is, nevertheless, a place of great importance and no mean dimensions. It
consists of two sections, one Chinese and the other Manchu. The latter,
known as Sui-yüan-ch’êng, lies a mile or so to the north-east of the
former, is enclosed by a strong wall and is the seat of Government. Here
lives a large community of Manchus, numbering some ten thousand, the
adult males of which are, or were up till recently, conscript government
troops.
The Chinese portion, which is K’uei-hua-ch’êng itself, consists of a
small walled town surrounded by extensive suburbs. The population of
this section, which, to a large extent, is floating, has been estimated
at 40,000, which, however, is probably excessive. All the commerce and
trade is centred in the Chinese quarter. The principal items of commerce
are wool, skins, hides, cereals and livestock, besides numerous articles
required by the Mongols, which they cannot make themselves. A great
portion of the trade between the New Dominion (Chinese Turkestan) and
the coast passes through K’uei-hua-ch’êng, as transport by camels along
the desert route is very much cheaper than by carts or mules along the
high road through Shensi and Kansu, via Si-an Fu and Lan-chou Fu. The
camel caravan route keeps north of the Yellow River, and owes its
cheapness to the fact that the camels can fend for themselves, not
requiring to be fed. Its chief drawback is the length of time required,
seventy days being the number usually given in road contracts.
There are some interesting temples at K’uei-hua-ch’êng, harbouring large
numbers of Lamas. Both the Protestant and Catholic Missions have opened
stations here, while there are postal and telegraphic communications
with the coast.
Both K’uei-hua-ch’êng and Sui-yüan-ch’êng have the rank of T’ing.