MOTORING AND CRUISING
Parties of tourists usually land at Yokohama, rejoining their steamer a
few days later at Kobe. After a little sight-seeing in Yokohama they
generally take a train to Kamakura and stop at the island of Enoshima.
If there is time, they continue on to Miyanoshita. They take in Tokyo,
Nikko, and Kyoto, with perhaps a few hours in each, and then go on to
Kobe. In the limited time this all has to be done by train, which, in
the present condition of the roads, is a quicker and surer method of
travel than any other. _Kurumas_ (jinrikishas) can be used for side
trips, or _kagos_ (sedan-chairs) for mountain climbs. Trolley cars are a
convenience in the cities, and often take one to quite remote places in
the country as well. The rates are lower than in the West, and special
cars can be hired for a moderate amount.
[Illustration: _KAGOS_ (SEDAN-CHAIRS) FOR MOUNTAIN CLIMBS.]
For those who have longer to stay, the motor offers a delightful way of
seeing the country as well as many opportunities for getting off the
beaten track and having adventures. Because the roads are narrow and the
bridges frail, the motorcycle, rather than the automobile, is after all
the ideal method of travel, for it takes one into really out-of-the-way
places which could not be reached in a larger machine. Of course this
pastime is only for men, and for men who are willing to rough it, at
that. If a woman is at all inclined to be nervous she had better not try
motoring in Japan, even in a car, except on well-known roads.
The traveller with sufficient time at his disposal also finds various
trips to be made by steamer, such as the one through the Inland Sea,
which is described in this chapter.
Motoring is just beginning to be popular in Japan. Many of the roads are
not bad except in spots, and the scenery is usually beautiful. During
the rainy season the country roads are very disagreeable,--often almost,
if not quite, impassable. Only in a city like Tokyo or Yokohama is it
worth while for the resident to have a car the year round.
The best touring months are in the spring and autumn--in March, when the
plum blossoms are finishing and the cherry blossoms beginning, and in
April and May. In June comes the rain. The heat during July and August
is very severe, then come the typhoons, and rain again in September.
When the maple leaves are turning, later in the autumn, there is another
happy moment for the motorist. Although the winters are not really
disagreeable, there is a cold wind, and the Japanese inns are damp and
chilly.
A short machine is necessary, as well as a skilful chauffeur, for the
turns are often very sharp, especially at the bridges. These bridges, by
the way, are treacherous and need to be strengthened for motor-traffic.
They were built for the use of a 'ricksha or--at the most--for a horse
and two-wheeled wagon. Gasoline may now be procured in many places, and
road-maps are also to be had. It is important to take some one along who
can speak Japanese, and to provide food for the trip, if one does not
like the native dishes. Hot tea may be had almost anywhere.
In taking a motor trip one would naturally start at Yokohama. At first
glance this city seems thoroughly Japanese, but, on knowing it better, I
have found it to be in reality very European and not at all typical of
the country or its people. It is rather a laughing-stock among the
Japanese themselves, who call things "Yokohama" as a term of derision.
Most foreigners live on the "Bluff," which overlooks the bay. Some of
the houses in this section are fascinating, for they are surrounded by
gardens and command wonderful views. Some glimpses of real Japan may be
caught in the native quarter of the city, but coming back to Yokohama
after having been into the interior gives one the impression of having
left Japan behind.
A trip which is easy and comfortable for ladies may be made from
Yokohama to Miyanoshita. It takes several hours each way, with a day
added if one goes on over the Hakone Pass. L. and I took this trip while
the plum-trees were in bloom.
From Yokohama to Kamakura much of the way was through the paddy-fields,
which reminded me of trips on the narrow roads between the canals of
Holland. We passed some strange new pagodas on a hillside, erected
lately in honour of the Fire-God--a terrible creature carved on a rocky
cliff and painted in colours. We also passed a succession of little
places famous for the "plum-viewing," with their small tea-houses all
ready for the viewers. There were camellia-trees in bloom, too, and the
paddy-fields were beginning to show faint greens where the farmers were
pottering about in the carefully cultivated land.
[Illustration: THE BUDDHA OF KAMAKURA.]
Kamakura is sunny and warm, by the sparkling sea. Many invalids go
there, especially in winter--foreigners often rent the native houses.
The big Buddha, surrounded by plum-trees, has twice been washed by tidal
waves. The silvery branches with their white blossoms looked as if they
had been sprinkled with snow, and the delicate perfume in the air was
delicious. The Buddha is said to have stood there in the wind and rain
and sunshine for seven hundred years. It is perhaps the finest large
piece of bronze in the world; it has eyes of pure gold and a great
silver boss on its forehead that looks like a full moon, while on its
head are eight hundred curls. "These are the snails that kindly coiled
themselves on Buddha's head when by thinking too much in the hot sun he
might have been sun-struck."
We visited another shrine at Kamakura, where there is a huge trunk of
cedar carved into a Kwannon--she is the goddess of pity and humility. It
is said that once upon a time an illumination was seen over the waters,
and on going to find out what caused it some fishermen discovered the
figure of this goddess, carved in wood, which they brought ashore and
set up for all to worship.
It is told of Kwannon that "in her boundless love she divided herself
into many bodies and renounced the joy of Nirvana that she might bring
peace and happiness to others." She is often compared to the Christian
Madonna, and is considered the goddess of mercy, as well as the
protector of dumb animals, especially of horses and others that work for
man. She is variously depicted in Japanese art--sometimes with a
thousand hands, in each of which is an answer to a prayer--sometimes
with eleven faces, "smiling with eternal youth and infinite tenderness."
A remarkable piece of embroidery which was brought to the Embassy to
sell at a huge price showed Kwannon as the divine mother, pouring forth
from a crystal vial holy water, each bubble of which contained a tiny
child.
Osame told me that Kwannon was the daughter of a king of the Chow
dynasty who sentenced her to death for refusing to marry. The
executioner's sword broke without inflicting a wound, but her spirit
went to hell, which, however, she straightway turned into a paradise.
The king of the infernal regions hurried her back to earth and turned
her into a lotus flower on the island of Pooh-to.
While we were standing at her shrine, which is on the side of a
pine-clad hill looking out over the sea, there came a sad funeral
procession led by men carrying a big wicker birdcage. When I asked about
it, Osame said that birds were kept in it and were set free at funerals
to typify the release of the soul. There was the usual gold paper, and
the coloured paper lotus flowers. The unpainted carved box, or coffin,
shaped something like a palanquin, was borne on the shoulders of four
men. The widow was clad in white, which is the mourning colour.
Following the mourners came men, bringing trees and plants to set out on
the grave.
En route from Kamakura to Miyanoshita we motored over the old Tokaido
road--the great highway from Tokyo to Kyoto--with its crooked pines on
every side and its views of the bright blue sea and of enchanting Fuji,
so often represented in Japanese art.
On the way we passed the wonderful island of Enoshima. Here Benten,
goddess of the sea, has her shrine, for the island is said to have
arisen from the deep at her coming. She is one of the seven goddesses of
luck, and is likewise referred to as the divinity of love, beauty and
eloquence. It is customary for people who are in love, or for those who,
on the contrary, wish to be divorced, to go to Enoshima and pray to
Benten. She is said to have descended from the clouds and, entering a
cavern where the sea king dwelt, to have married him out of hand. He was
a dragon who devoured little children, but her good influence put an end
to his sins. She is depicted as having eight arms, and as riding upon a
dragon. Her shrines are generally found on islands.
I had always felt that Fuji was much overrated, but on this day it
certainly wove its charm about me. Mayon, in the Philippines, is as
beautiful in shape, but it never has any snow on its summit. Our own
snow-capped Mt. Rainier is truly superb, but its shape is less
symmetrical than Fuji's. Snow-capped and perfect in line, Fuji seemed to
rise out of the sea in its mist, a great, beautiful ghost-mountain.
Seeing it, I felt the Spell of Japan as never before.
[Illustration: _Fuji from Otome-Toge_]
So many things have been said about Fuji, and so many poems have been
written, that it would be impossible for me to invent anything new in
regard to it. It is called the "Supreme Altar of the Sun" and the
"Never-dying Mountain.'' It is supposed to hold the secret of perpetual
life, and miracles are said to have been performed there. It is likened
to a white lotus, and to a huge inverted fan. Sengen, the fire goddess,
and Oanamochi, "Possessor of the Great Hole," dwell there, while near
the shrine of the God of Long Breath is a spring of healing for the
sick.
Miyanoshita is one of the most famous summer resorts in Japan. It is two
thousand feet above the sea, and is surrounded by mountains as high
again. The climb up there in the motor went well; the air was fine and
clear, and the hot sulphur baths at the hotel refreshed us. This hotel
is excellent. It overlooks a beautiful valley, picturesque and green in
the foreground, and shading off into that pale blue of distance which
makes a Japanese panorama so complete. Around us rose high hills,
ravined and grotesque, with here and there the roofs of tiny tea-houses
peeping through the trees. As I looked from my window the tops of the
mountain opposite were all big and grey, like elephants' ears. The view
down the valley to the sea made me think of the wonderful Benquet Road
in the Philippines.
In a tea-house garden near the hotel were many-coloured carp dashing
about in the clear sulphur water. The long-tailed cock of antiquity is
now rarely to be found, but there was one in this same garden, and also
a minor bird which spoke quite as clearly as our parrot at home.
We went over the pass to Hakone. The road was difficult; the bridges
were often shaky, and occasional small landslides delayed our progress.
We were rewarded, however, by the sight of a charming lake some seven
miles in length, with mountains stretching down into it, and Fuji-San
beyond, hiding his lovely head in the clouds. The Emperor has a summer
palace at Hakone, built in European style.
When we came down from Miyanoshita in the motor, it was a beautiful
morning, and a beautiful ride it was, too, down through the valleys and
out on to the plain, along the Tokaido with its avenues of cryptomerias,
and across the paddy-fields.
I am told it will soon be possible to go by motor from Yokohama to
Miyanoshita by another route--over the new military road when it is
finished, across by Otome-Toge, and over the Hakone Range into the
valley this side of Fujiyama to Gotimba.
Another trip from Yokohama is to Mishima. We did not try this ourselves,
but the account of it given by a writer in the _Japan Magazine_, from
whom I quote, shows some of the difficulties to be encountered on the
road:
"It was on the stroke of ten, on the nineteenth of April, when three of
us, with a chauffeur, pulled out of the E. M. F. garage on the Yokohama
Bund in the new twenty-five h. p. Studebaker. Kozu was reached at noon,
and twenty minutes later we turned off the beaten track--from a motoring
point of view--at the terminus of the Odawara-Atami light railway.
"Here the real interest of the day's run began. The road to Atami,
though rather narrow, has a good surface for the most part, and runs
along the coast, now almost at the sea level, now winding over the
hills, from which a magnificent panoramic view of the Odawara Bay far
below is obtained. From the heights the coast with its white line of
surf can be followed by the eye beyond Enoshima on the one side, and on
the other side a succession of capes, merging in the haze, end in the
dim vista of Vries Island. A halt of some thirty minutes at a roadside
rest-house near Manazuru to have lunch and enjoy the beautiful scenery
passed all too quickly. Atami was reached at 2.30 P. M.
"So far the road presents no particular difficulties, but good care must
be taken, and a little backing is required to get around two or three
sharp turns. After a short halt to inspect the radiator and to see
whether the tires were well inflated, we started on the long climb."
The motorist had gone over the road on foot, and it had seemed quite
possible to negotiate all the curves without backing, but this did not
prove true in actual test. The curves were for the most part of the real
hairpin variety and came in such never-ending series that count of them
was soon lost. On more than half of them it was necessary to back at
least once, before getting round.
"Nevertheless," he resumes, "we were making good and steady progress
until within about a mile and a half from the top of the ridge, when the
gasoline began to get too low to reach the engine against the incline
and the cant of the car on the turns. From this spot on, the last mile
resolved itself into a trial of patience and muscle in manoeuvring the
car round each corner to a sufficiently even--or uneven--keel for the
gasoline to run to the engine until the critical point of each turn was
surmounted. The last two corners were negotiated in the dark, with the
writer sitting on the gasoline tank and the chauffeur blowing into it to
force the gasoline into the carburetor. At eight in the evening we
arrived safely at Mishima.
"Taking the above experience as a basis, it can be safely asserted that
passengers on a motor car would not run any risk at all on this road, as
there are no unprotected banks over which they could fall, as on the
Miyanoshita road. It also makes one of the most beautiful trips out of
Yokohama, for as one gradually rises above Atami the magnificent
panorama of land and sea displays itself before one's eyes in ever
widening circles. In our case we reached the Daiba Pass too late to
enjoy the splendid view of the hills on the one side, and of the ocean
with a fringe of foam along the shore down below, though the breakers
could be distinctly heard."
We often motored from Yokohama to Tokyo. The road-bed is comparatively
good, being hard and smooth, but it is very narrow, with constant
traffic, and there are so many children running across that speed is
impossible. Although the distance between the two cities is about twenty
miles, the street is like one long village with its rows of houses on
either side. It was endlessly interesting, with its procession of carts
and wagons with their picturesque loads, and its groups of little,
scurrying children in many-coloured kimonos clacking about on their
clogs. There were continuous rows of small open shop-fronts with their
wares set out in pretty array, and we had hurried glimpses of clean
matted interiors and quaint gardens and temple entrances. Every now and
then we would cross one of the queer, humped-up little bridges and look
down upon the thatch-roofed cabins and high poops of the sampans
congested in the river beneath. About an hour and a half is allowed for
the run.
Once on this road we stopped at Osame's home--a perfect plaything of a
house about two inches big, with an artistic bamboo fence and wicket, a
tiny entrance-place, and little six-mat rooms. The wife prostrated
herself repeatedly, and offered us tea and cake with many protestations
which Osame translated. Their baby was brought in, and looked wisely at
some presents which we had for him.
[Illustration: "LOOKED WISELY AT SOME PRESENTS WHICH WE HAD FOR HIM."]
There are a number of one-day excursions from Tokyo for cars, and still
more one- and two-day trips for motorcycles. The roads about Tokyo are
good, but with a car one is likely to strike mires or bad bridges or
ferryboats that are too small. These difficulties can generally be
overcome, however, and they make the trip both varied and amusing.
A short expedition from Tokyo, and one comfortable for the motorist, is
to the prehistoric caves--Hyaku Ana--near Konosu. These are some two
hundred cave-dwellings that have been uncovered on the side of a cliff.
They have long, low entrances, and vary from tiny holes to caves ten
feet square and high enough for a man to stand in. The pieces of jewelry
and pottery which have been found there are small help in reconstructing
the life of the troglodytes--"earth spiders," the Japanese call
them--who may have lived there some thousands of years ago.
Another trip from Tokyo[9] is to the Boshu Peninsula. The tourist will
have an excellent opportunity of getting a few glimpses of unfamiliar
Japan without going very far afield. The road follows the seashore most
of the way and offers a great variety of scenery--pine-clad hills, rice
fields, pretty gardens, and fishing villages with the ocean breaking on
rocky cliffs. There is little chance for speeding, as the highway is
often narrow and passes through many tunnels with sharp curves, but the
trip was made without any trouble by Mr. S.'s large fifty h. p.
Clement-Bayard.
[9] For this, and several other notes on motoring, I am indebted
to the _Japan Magazine_.
Mr. S. and friends started from Tokyo after tiffin, and spent the night
at Inage, a small village two miles from Chiba, where there was a quiet
inn. Next day, they drove along the coast southwest to Tateyama, which
is a popular bathing resort, reaching there in time for tiffin. The
views along the way, both of the hills and of Tokyo Bay, were very fine.
They went on to Katsu-ura for the night, passing Mera, which is an
important fishing village at the extreme tip of the peninsula, built on
a cliff near a lighthouse. It was here that the _Dakota_ was wrecked in
1909. Part of the way the volcano on Vries Island is to be seen.
Near Katsu-ura is the birthplace of the famous Buddhist saint, Nichiren.
He was born in 1222 A. D., and became a priest at the age of fifteen.
His doctrines being considered unsafe, he was sentenced to death, but
the executioner's sword was broken by lightning, and orders came from
the Regent to release him. Various well-known temples have been erected
in his memory.
Next day the return trip was made by way of Ichinomiya, Hamano, and
Chiba. The entire excursion can be made in two days, and with an extra
day one could also take in Narita, which has a very interesting temple
and is well worth visiting.
Mountaineering by motor is also possible in some parts of Japan. A
successful trip was made from Tokyo over the Torii Toge not long ago,
although the road left much to be desired, being narrow, tortuous, and
often washed away in places--between Azuma-Bashi and Narai it was
especially bad. This pass gets its name from the massive granite _torii_
at the top, and is over four thousand feet above the sea. The road over
the Shiojiri Toge, which is thirty-four hundred feet high, is so well
engineered that it was found possible to get to the top on middle gear.
The views along the way are said to be of the finest, and the "Kame-ya"
at Shimono-Suwa, a very comfortable hotel with natural hot baths and an
obliging landlord.
One motorist found difficulty in garaging his car, and it had to be left
under the wide eaves of the roof of the hotel. The ingenious landlord,
however, borrowed a huge sheet of thick oil-paper and covered it all up
snugly and securely from the weather, as well as from the attentions of
a crowd of boys who had gathered round.
"I found the boys troublesome everywhere," this traveller writes; "they
were not content to look, but must finger everything. On one occasion
they turned an oil-tap and lost me half a gallon of precious oil which
could not be replaced.... After this I tied up the oil-tap every night
and took the wires off the accumulators, for on another occasion I found
that a boy had switched these on." Such hints may prove useful to the
prospective motorist.
The road from Tokyo to Nikko is good, except at one point, where it
crosses a river. Next to Miyanoshita, this is the most popular
excursion, for the temples are glorious and the hotel is good. We did
not hear whether the road from Nikko to Chuzenji was passable.
The Japanese have a saying that you must call nothing beautiful until
you have seen Nikko. L. says nothing is beautiful after you have seen
Nikko. It is supreme, the climax. In 1889 he journeyed three hours to
Utsunomiya, and then five hours by _kuruma_ to Nikko, through the
wonderful avenue of cryptomerias, with the foliage meeting overhead.
This avenue is said to extend for fifty miles. When the temples at Nikko
were being raised, some three hundred years ago, many nobles presented
portions of them; but some, poorer than the rest, for their share
planted these trees as an approach to the temples.
[Illustration: THE WONDERFUL AVENUE OF CRYPTOMERIAS.]
L. was not disappointed in going there on a later visit, for the great
trees still stood solemnly above the gorgeous temples, and peace and
religious quiet were to be found there as always. On the other side of
the rushing river, however, there was a change, for hotels and European
comforts had been provided.
I am not sure whether one can motor from Tokyo to Fukushima or not, but,
in any event, it would be worth trying. We went there on a former visit,
staying at a Japanese inn, sleeping on mats in comforters. Next day we
went on, part of the way by train, part by jinrikisha, to the "eight
hundred and eight islands," the most fascinating place in the world. We
took a boat and went in and out among the islands until we came to
Matsushima, a little fishing town which is considered the first of the
Sankei--"the three finest views in Japan"--on account of its
exceptionally beautiful sea view. The islands are covered with queer,
stunted pines, among which quaint temples are to be seen. Even now in
the stillness of the night I can hear their bells, like a mysterious,
musical moan.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF MATSUSHIMA.]
The following condensed account of a trip by motorcycle from Tokyo to
Kyoto and beyond may be of use to the traveller. The distance is about
three hundred and forty miles. Three and a half gallons of petrol were
consumed, which is more than would have been used if the second and
third days' ride had not been in the teeth of a gale. The machine was a
2 3-4 h. p. twin-cylinder Douglas with free engine clutch and two-speed
gear. A lightweight of this sort has proved most suitable for Japan, for
there are dozens of occasions--lifting in and out of boats, up steps,
pushing over stony river-beds--when one is glad of its lightness. One
never wishes for more speed. Allowing time for rest, food, and casual
stops, not over a hundred miles can be made in a day with any pleasure.
On this expedition the cyclist went by way of Kozu and stayed over a day
at Shizuoka. It is fifty-five miles from there to Fukuroi, where he
lunched, and then continued on to Maisaka for the night.
"From Maisaka," he says, "one can cross over the Hamano Lagoon to Arai
by ferry, one can take the train over the bridge, or make the circuit of
the lagoon. As there was a strong gale blowing the ferry did not put
out, so this night was spent at Benten-jima, a pleasant little bathing
resort at the mouth of the lagoon."
Next morning, he left Arai at nine o'clock. About two miles out there
was a very stiff hill, which is frequently mentioned in pictures of
Tokaido travel. The ascent commenced immediately after a sharp turn out
of a village street, so that it was impossible to get a good start. The
view over the sea from the top was splendid, however, and the run down
to Toyohashi among slopes blazing with azaleas proved delightful.
At Atsuta, fifty-five miles from Toyohashi, the cyclist left the Tokaido
and passed through one of the suburbs of Nagoya. This is the third city
of Japan, Tokyo being the first and Osaka the second in size. It is
famous for its potteries and especially for its castle, which has a keep
typical of the ancient feudal times and often shown in Japanese art. The
castle is in fairly good preservation and is one of the best specimens
of architecture in the country. The central building is a massive
structure one hundred and fifty feet high, surmounted by two golden
dolphins, which may be seen from a tremendous distance glistening in the
sun. One of them was exhibited at Vienna in 1873; on its way home it was
lost with the ship, but was finally recovered at great expense.
After Nagoya, Kano was reached. Here one turns to the left, without
entering Gifu, and proceeds along the Nakasendo--the great highway that
connects Tokyo and Kyoto by way of the mountains while the Tokaido runs
nearer the coast. Maibara, on the shores of Lake Biwa, was reached that
evening at eight o'clock; from there it was a straight run to Kyoto.
Lake Biwa, the largest piece of fresh water in Japan, is about
forty-five miles long. It is surrounded on all sides by hills and is
supposed to have been produced by an earthquake early in the third
century before Christ.
[Illustration: LAKE BIWA.]
It is also possible to go from Tokyo to Kyoto by way of Atami, but it is
not a very good trip. Those who try it generally get on the train at
Kozu and get off again at Gotimba--a method much easier for a motorcycle
than for a car, of course.
There are a thousand things to do and see in Kyoto, but if one is there
in cherry blossom season one must not fail to see the glorious old
cherry tree so widely renowned. Near it is the Mound of Ears. Osame told
me that long ago, after a great battle in Korea, the returning victors
brought with them their enemies' ears and noses, instead of the heads,
to show how many Koreans they had killed. These trophies were buried in
a mound to commemorate the battle.
A trip was made from Kyoto to Ama-no-Hashidate--another of the "three
finest views"--by way of Suchi and Kawamori. For some miles the road out
of Kyoto is bad; there is a long climb before Kameoka and a steep, long,
but well-graded pass between Sonobe and Kinokiyama. The whole of this
day's journey lay through beautiful, well-wooded country with glimpses
of the Yuragawa as one rode along its left bank, then over a splendid
hilly coast road into Miyazu--a distance of about ninety miles in all.
[Illustration: AMA-NO-HASHIDATE.]
The return was made by way of Shin-Maizuru, where one turns to the right
after getting into the broad main street and soon reaches the coast
again near Takahama. From there on to Obama the scenery would be hard to
surpass with its views of the coast and of the wooded hills inland
covered with azaleas, wisteria and other brilliant flowers. The road
from Imazu skirts the western shores of Lake Biwa and is very narrow and
bumpy until within ten miles of Otsu. Indeed, the roads, after leaving
the coast, are often so narrow that there would be no pleasure in taking
a car over them.
L. and I found most of the roads around Kyoto good. A few of them
present difficulties, such as the one from Kyoto to Kamazawa, but from
this point they are again fine, though many hills and dangerous spots
are still to be met with. On a former visit we went in 'rickshas to the
foot of these hills, passing green fields of rice and reaching the
Harashiyawa River, which flows rapidly into the plain. We took a
flat-bottomed boat and were towed and poled up the swift water between
the steep, wooded banks, where it was very lovely. We had tea at a
tea-house on the bank, and watched the fishermen in boats, and looked
out over the pleasant landscape in the sunset glow of crimson and gold
before the purple shadows fell across the plains.
From Kyoto to Otsu, which is on the shore of Lake Biwa, is about an
hour's ride by rail. There one takes a small steamer up the lake to
Nagahama, where, after a tiffin of carp with rice and _soy_ at a
tea-house, one may take a train again for Nara.
One may also go from Kyoto to Nara direct by _kuruma_--a day's journey.
There are interesting temples to visit on the hillsides along the
road--popular shrines where thousands of pilgrims with jangling staves,
and holiday-makers taking tea and cakes, enjoy themselves simply in
their beautiful surroundings. We passed among them, beneath the great
gates guarded by fantastic demon gods, green and red and blue, and into
temples, gorgeous but often dilapidated and dusty, past pagodas and
through long avenues of stone lanterns. At Nara we saw the Golden
Pavilion and the Silver Pavilion, the summer places of retired princes.
There are entrancing gardens with little ponds filled with goldfish,
tiny bridges and imitation mountains, the "wash-the-moon" cascade, and
the platforms where warriors used to sit and look at the moon--those
fierce, two-sworded warriors of other days.
The old temples of Nara have stood there silently for over a thousand
years, beneath the gaze of that huge, ungainly bronze Buddha who looks
down with half-shut eyes, one hand held up in benediction, the other
resting on his knee. He sits on his open lotus flower beneath the tall,
solemn cryptomerias,--this wonderful Dai Butsu, the largest in all
Japan.
We wandered through the groves and the park where the dainty wild deer
are so friendly. On the hillside above is a temple to Kwannon, over a
thousand years old, standing out from the dark green of the pines.
Farther along is a Shinto temple, low and with galleries and many
lanterns. Here we saw priests praying--shaven-headed _bonzes_ in their
robes--at whom pilgrims were tossing coppers. Beyond is the Wakamiya,
where, for a consideration, some priestesses perform a dance called
_kagura_ while priests chant and play the flute and the tom-tom. As we
went by, we saw a veiled priestess dancing there in true Eastern style.
At the foot of the slope is a five-storied pagoda, black with age, for
it dates back to the eighth century.
[Illustration: ANCIENT TEMPLE NEAR NARA.]
Nikko and Nara! The one a place of some three hundred years, gilded and
coloured--the other ancient, and sombre, and impressive.
From Nara to Osaka you pass more old temples, where they say an eye of
Buddha is secretly guarded. Osaka is sometimes called the Venice of
Japan, on account of its many canals and bridges. The castle here must
have been by far the most magnificent in the country before it was
destroyed by fire. The moats and foundations that remain are splendid
specimens of masonry.
From Kyoto to Kobe is a ride of two and a half hours in the train. The
road skirts the hills which bound Kyoto, passes Osaka, and follows some
rivers that flow higher than the level of the country--indeed, the road
runs through tunnels under three large streams!
The terracing of the land is very marked along this route. Japanese
methods of farming and irrigation require that the land shall be level,
and so the country is all plotted off into little irregular terraces.
The ground is saturated with water, which stands to a depth of several
inches around the growing crops. Paddy-fields are really ponds of
standing water, while a farm is a marsh, the house alone rising above
the surface. Farmers, while taking in their rice or plowing their
fields, work with the water and thick black mud up to their knees.
Kobe is the foreign name applied to Hyogo, the treaty-port. It is next
to Yokohama in commercial importance. The foreigners in Kobe--English,
German and American--have a very pleasant club, and pretty bungalows on
the hills back of the town. A beautiful waterfall and the Temple of the
Moon are not far away.
Maiko, in the province of Harima, is one of the most enchanting spots in
this part of Japan. It is near the upper entrance to the Inland Sea, not
far from Kobe. Nothing can be more fairy-like and mysterious than the
spreading, twisted trees on the white sand there in the moonlight.
_Maiko_ means dancing girl, and the place gets its name from the effect
given the ancient pines when the wind blows the sand into shifting
scarfs about them.
Lake Shinji, on the northern coast, is also one of the most interesting
places in the country and one seldom seen by foreigners. Ogo-Harito is
famous for its giant rocks washed by the sea into strange and fantastic
shapes. It is the female spirit of the west coast, while Matsushima is
considered the male spirit of the east coast.
If one has time, Yahakii should be seen, for it is a very strange valley
with its enormous conventional terraces made by nature. At the bottom of
the canyon is a swift river, and temples are perched here and there on
high crags. Koro Halcho, in the province of Kii, is very beautiful,
especially in the spring when the gorge with its deep cliffs is made
lovelier still with wild flowers. A motorcyclist would find inviting
trips in Hokkaido, where the roads are not bad, though it is rather
difficult getting there. Over on the other coast, from Nazano to
Navetta, and around Kamisana, there are good roads.
Our trip through the Inland Sea, from Kobe to Nagasaki, was one of the
most delightful experiences that we had in Japan. We chartered a boat at
Kobe, after an extravagant comedy of errors. L. went on board at
midnight to examine it, and the agent did not discover until after the
business was finished that it was not the boat which he intended L. to
see at all; but the captain was too quick for him, and seized the
opportunity to make a good bargain.
It turned out very well indeed for us. The steamer was of two hundred
tons burden, one hundred and fifty feet long, with very comfortable
cabins--two small ones in European style and one large one extending
entirely across the boat, with mats in native style, where Japanese
passengers may lie side by side on their comforters. We took our own
supplies, and had a very good cook until he went off one night on a
spree.
We went aboard one evening, and sailed at daybreak next morning, being
awakened by the rattling of the chain and the churning of the propeller.
Soon we were gliding out of the harbour between the shipping, just as
the sun came up out of the Eastern Ocean, chasing the shadows down the
hillsides and bathing the shore in a glorious crimson. We turned Hyogo
Point and headed for Akashi Straits, to enter the Inland Sea, passing
palisades like those on the Hudson.
All day long we went through the archipelago of green and yellow
islands. At first the sea was glassy, then gently ruffled, and junks and
sampans with queer sails glided by. Toward evening we passed into even
narrower passages and straits, and the moon rose, all silver in the
twilight sky, while we turned many times, now to the right, now to the
left, finally coming to anchor off the twinkling lights of Onomichi. We
landed after dinner and walked through the little town, then sat out on
deck and sang in the flooding moonlight.
[Illustration: JAPANESE JUNKS.]
When we left next morning it was to pass more promontories on beautiful
islands, lovely mountains rising behind, and picturesque shores fringed
with tiny trees all green and purple in the haze. In the afternoon the
clouds and rain that crossed our path only added to and varied the
loveliness of the approach to Hiroshima.
During the day we had an unsurpassed panorama of Japanese scenery, with
grotesque, broken islands fringed with pine, and ravined mountains
dipping down into the calm blue waters, on which the quaintest and most
unreal of sampans and junks were idly floating. We felt as if we were
passing through a miniature ocean with its islands and old-world
villages constantly appearing and disappearing in the rising, shifting
mist. No wonder the Japanese believe in ghosts and in Bahu, the Eater of
Dreams!
As the sun went down we rounded the enchanted island of Miyajima--the
third of the "three finest views"--and glided into the bay before the
famous temple. When it grew darker the four hundred lanterns of bronze
and stone along the water's edge were lighted for us. The temple itself
is built on piles, and the _torii_ stands far out from the shore. We
were sculled across the still waters in a sampan. The tide was at its
highest, and the hundreds of little lights were reflected in its glassy
surface. Slowly we drifted beneath the great _torii_ to the temple
entrance. Once more the Spell of Japan stole over us.
[Illustration: THE GREAT _TORII_.]
The sunrise next morning was too beautiful for words. We appeared to be
coming out from a rosy dawn into a grey, dim future, as the sun came up
through a pearly mist and the little clouds rose in wreaths about the
tops of the strange mountains, making pictures such as the art of Japan
loves to depict. Tiny straw-sailed boats appeared and disappeared
mysteriously. It was all very silent and lovely.
Later in the day we climbed the hill behind the temple, then came down
and bathed, having tea at a delightful little tea-house, taking tiffin
ashore beneath the tiny-leafed maples near a brook; we went aboard in
the late afternoon, and, hoisting anchor, steamed away.
Next morning we saw the sun rise at Moji. We passed Shimonoseki and then
steamed out into the China Sea, keeping the picturesque shore of Kyushu
in sight all the way. We picked our course through the outlying islands
and the swirling straits of Hirado, and reached Nagasaki late at night.
Contenting ourselves with one look at its twinkling lights, we retired.
Morning showed us once more its beautiful harbour, the mountains range
on range behind it, and the city itself on either side, the houses
rising above each other on long terraces to the summits of the hills on
which Nagasaki is built.
Near us a big ship was coaling--a wonderful sight to one who beholds it
for the first time. It was surrounded by countless barges upon which
were swarming crowds of Japanese--men, women and children. Forming a
long line that reached from the barges up a ladder into the ship's hold,
they handed baskets of coal from one to the other, so that a continuous
stream poured steadily into the ship. The strangeness of the costumes,
the unusual sight of women doing a man's work--many of them with babies
strapped to their backs--added to the interest of the busy scene. Down
in the hold, where the heat must have been suffocating, they plodded on,
men and women, clad chiefly in coal-dust. All day long they worked away
with happy smiles, the babies bobbing up and down on their mothers'
backs, doubtless wondering what it was all about. The sight reminded me
of the passage in the Æneid, where the poet speaks of the ants as "tiny
toilers of giant industry," and describes them carrying crumbs in their
mouths to the common storehouse in a seemingly never-ending line.
As we steamed out of the harbour, the green hills rose steeply from the
water with houses and shrines peeping through the trees, backed by a
still higher range of hills which were finally lost in the blue distance
or broke off into crags and cliffs.