From the Saru River to Cape Erimo.
After quitting Saru Mombets I was altogether out of the beaten tracks.
The twenty-two miles to Shimokebo were monotonous in the extreme. High
cliffs towered above me on the one side, and the sea stretched into
infinity on the other. River after river had to be waded, the
At-pets,[7] the Nii-pak-pets,[8] and the Shibe-gari-pets.[9] The
Nii-pak-pets is wide and fairly deep. Near the At-pets river the
Japanese Government has established a horse farm, in order to improve
the breed of Yezo ponies. A few miserable Ainu huts are scattered along
the coast, and millions of scavenger crows, with their monotonous cries,
seem to claim sovereignty over these shores. Near the Takae village, on
the Nii-kap-pets, is an enormous perpendicular cliff, which, jutting out
into the sea, bars the way to the traveller; therefore I had to abandon
the sandy shore, and with considerable trouble get the ponies to climb
over the steep banks, which was no easy task for them. Shimokebo is a
peculiar-looking place. It is entirely a fishermen's village, and I put
up at the Ogingawa Zunubi yadoya--a tea-house owned by a Japanese
fisherman.
[7] At-pets--Elm-tree river (_at_, elm-tree; _pets_, river).
[8] Nii-pak-pets--also called Nakap-pets. _Nii_, a wood; _pak_,
under; _na_, more; _kap_, bark of tree.
[9] Shibe-gari-pets--Salmon-trout river.
Japanese will be Japanese wherever they go, and people who have had
anything to do with them know how difficult it is to satisfy their
curiosity.
"How old are you?" inquired the _occamisan_--the landlady. "Where do you
come from? What is your country? Why are you travelling? Have you a wife
and children? Can you eat Japanese food; also Ainu food? Can you sleep
in _foutangs_?" (Japanese bedding). "Also with a _makura_?" (a wooden
pillow).
About fifty more personal and indiscreet questions were also asked, and
all my belongings were examined with ever-increasing astonishment as one
thing after another was handled and investigated. I was tired, and felt
as if I could have kicked the whole crowd of them out of my room; but I
was unintentionally polite to them to such an extent that the
_occamisan_ loudly exclaimed--
"_Honto Danna, Anata Nihonno shto, onaji koto!_"--"Really, sir, you are
just like a Japanese!"
"_Domo neh!_" rose up in a chorus from the large assembly, "_nandemo
dannasan wakarimas!_"--"The gentleman really understands everything!"
This was a decided compliment, and I was bound to accept it as it was
intended. When they heard that I was indeed "_Taihen kutabire mashita_"
(very tired), they reluctantly left the room, and closed the _shoji_
(sliding doors of tissue paper on a wooden frame). Each bowed
gracefully, drawing in his breath at the same time. This is the Japanese
polite way of leaving a room. Their conversation was resumed in the next
apartment, regardless of the fact that tissue paper walls are not
sound-proof. Remarks on me, not quite in harmony with their courteous
bearing, were passed freely about, and the politest thing I heard them
say was that I must be a _lunatic_ to travel alone in these inhospitable
regions, and what a pity it was for a man _so young_ to be so fearfully
afflicted.
"Oh, those _seyono shto_ (foreigners) are all born lunatics," said the
voice of one who knew better.
The Shibegari River, at the mouth of which Shimokebo is situated, is
also called Shibe-chari--"sprinkled salmon river." Very minute traces of
gold are found in the river-sands and gravels, and also some
well-developed brown garnet crystals and quartzite and phyllite pebbles.
The gold, however, is not in sufficient quantity to enable it to be
worked profitably. Seven and a half miles from Shimokebo the Japanese
Government has another horse farm similar to that of the At-pets.
The travelling along the coast was heavy, and I could ride but slowly. I
had to make the ponies go where the sand was wet along the beach, as
there it was harder and they did not sink. This had its drawbacks, for
the sea was very rough, and once or twice my ponies and I came very near
being washed against the cliffs by some extra large wave. Instead of
green banks, as between Tomakomai and Shimokebo, here were high cliffs
of volcanic formation, with a narrow strip of sand at their foot.
The few Ainu along the coast were decidedly ugly. It was only now and
then that in a sheltered nook I came across a hut or two of seaweed
gatherers; and, still following the cliffs, I passed two or three small
villages of a few houses each. After fifteen miles of this heavy track I
reached the fishing station of Ubahu, where I was able to obtain some
fresh horses. Prowling along the beach, I examined some of the Ainu
canoes that had been drawn on shore. They might be divided into three
classes--(_a_) the "dug-outs," used mostly for river navigation; (_b_)
the lashed canoe; and (_c_) a larger kind used for sailing. The
"dug-out" does not require explanation, as everyone knows that it is a
trunk of a tree hollowed out in the shape of a boat, and propelled
either by paddling or punting.
[Illustration: AINU LASHED CANOE.]
[Illustration: FRONT VIEW OF LASHED CANOE.]
[Illustration: AINU OARS.]
The lashed canoes are made of nine pieces of wood lashed together with
the fibre of a kind of vine. The concave bottom is all of one piece--a
partial "dug-out"--to which are added the side pieces, of three planks
each, sewn together at an angle of about 170°, and made to fit the sides
of the "dug-out." Two more pieces, one aft and one forward, meet the
side planks at right angles. The length of these canoes varies from 10
to 15 feet, the width from 3 to 3-1/2 feet. Two pieces of wood are then
lashed horizontally, which answer the double purpose of strengthening
the sides of the canoe and, being provided with pins outside the canoe,
of allowing it to be used as an outrigger when rowing. Canoes are either
rowed or sailed. The oars are made of two pieces firmly lashed together.
A hole is bored in the part which is to be passed through the pin in the
outrigger. One person is generally sufficient to row an Ainu canoe, and
he does so standing. There is no steering gear or rudder, and when
rowing the oars are used for that purpose. Ainu canoes are not decked,
and therefore cannot stand heavy seas. They are alike on both sides, and
in most cases the two ends of the canoe are also shaped alike. There
are, however, certain canoes which, in my opinion, have been suggested
to the Ainu by Japanese boats, and which are flat at the stern. These
are generally larger, and used for sailing. A square mat sail is rigged
on a short mast forward, and the steering is done with one of the oars
at the stern. The sailing qualities of these canoes, however, are not
very great, and the slightest squall causes them to capsize and "turn
turtle." The anchors used by the Ainu are very ingenious; they are cut
out of a piece of wood, with either one or two barbs, and two stones are
fastened on the sides of the stem so as to carry the anchor to the
bottom. No compass is either known or used by the Ainu, and the natives
shape their course by sight of land. They very seldom go long distances
out at sea, as they are fully aware of the dangers of the ocean and of
the imperfection of their own methods of navigation, though they are
wholly incapable of making any improvements by their own judgment. The
canoes are always beached when not used, and each family possesses its
own. There are none which are the property of companies or are common to
certain villages.
[Illustration: SAILING CANOE.]
[Illustration: AINU WOODEN ANCHORS.]
[Illustration: TOP VIEW OF AN AINU CANOE.]
The track between Ubahu and Urakawa is rough, and the rivers are
somewhat troublesome. Not far from the Mitsuashi river one has to pass a
tunnel which has been made through a rock projecting into the sea. In
rough weather it is difficult and dangerous to get through, as the waves
wash right through the tunnel. In fair weather it affords a safe passage
to the traveller.
The Matourabets (the winter fishing river) was successfully waded, and
the Ikantai[10] village passed. Then at Urakawa or Urapets (the fish
river) I made a halt for the night. There are many half-breeds at
Urakawa, and a few real Ainu, but the small population is composed
mostly of Japanese fishermen.
[10] _Ikan_, a canal made by salmon on river-beds to lay their
spawn; _tai_ thick.
Seven and a half miles further, at Shama-ne--a corruption of _Shuna_,
stones, and _ne_, together--there are some magnificent granite pillars
boldly standing out of the sea. The sandy beach came to an end, and huge
cliffs barred my way in front. I could see that the water was not very
deep round these rocks, as the waves were breaking a long distance from
the cliff, a sure sign of shallow water, though even then it might have
been too deep for my ponies to go through. With great difficulty I got
the two brutes into the sea, trying to round the large rocks for the
better ground, which I hoped to find on the other side. The tide was
low, but the sea was still rough, and nearly every wave as it came in
went right over my ponies, frightening them, and made them extremely
difficult to hold. The instinct of self-preservation made them rush for
the cliff, with the only result that they missed their footing, and they
and I were both swept away by the next receding wave. I was carried off
the saddle, but I had sufficient presence of mind to hold on to the
bridle. An awful struggle ensued between my ponies and myself. Each wave
that came carried and knocked us one way, each wave that retired carried
and knocked us the other. In the midst of all this danger I suddenly
remembered that some years ago a lady who knew all about palmistry
prophesied that I should one day be drowned.
Had the day come now? Not if energy and perseverance would avert the
doom! After a long struggle, I succeeded in pulling my horses where the
water was a little shallower, and there we three stood for some minutes,
trembling with cold, my two ponies looking reproachfully at me with
those half-human eyes of animals when forced into positions of danger
which they can neither understand nor overcome. It is wonderful the
amount of expression that horses have in their eyes, and how plainly one
can read their dumb thoughts and formless emotions!
From the point where I was standing I could see that I had to go on but
a few hundred feet more, and that then my ponies and I would be safe.
Sure enough, the water grew shallower and shallower, and, to my delight,
I was soon on the other side of the cliff. At high tide, and in very
rough weather, it is impossible to pass by this ocean-ford.
Shamane is a picturesque little fishing village, built on the side of a
promontory jutting out into the sea. From there, looking towards
Urakawa, there is a lovely view of all the small islands and
picturesque rocks, standing like huge jewels in the water, while on the
Horoizumi side, as far as the eye can see, there are only cliffs of
peculiar shapes, and marvellously rich in colour.
I got two fresh animals, and pursued my journey towards Horoizumi.
Rocks, rocks, nothing but rocks! My ponies stumbled and slipped all the
time, and for eighteen miles the riding was hard and intricate. I had to
lead my ponies most of the way, and help them, pull them, or push them,
from one rock on to another, and down the next, and so on.
The scenery all along was magnificent and grand. A short distance from
Shamane a large natural archway emerges from the sea, which is called by
the Ainu, Shui-shma, "a hole in stone."
Holes have been pierced through the rocks in several places, to give
comparative safe passage, and to prevent wayfarers from being carried
away by the waves. Over the entrance of one of these tunnels a pretty
waterfall, descending from a great height, gives a poetic effect to the
scene, while it obliges the unfortunate traveller to take an extremely
cold shower-bath, should he wish to push forward on his journey.
As if all these discomforts combined were not enough, it is to be added
that the rivers in this part of the coast, though not wide, are
extremely swift and dangerous to cross. My second pony was carried away
by the strong current when I crossed the Poro-nam-bets,[11] and I had
great difficulty in rescuing him.
[11] _Poro_, large; _nam_, cold; _bets_, river.
At Shamane there are a few Ainu, but from there to Horoizumi I saw none.
Sardines are very plentiful all along this coast, and long seaweeds also
abound. The latter is used for export, chiefly to China. Horoizumi, a
nice little village of one hundred and fifty houses, is the most
picturesque in Yezo. It is built on the slopes of a high cliff, and it
reminds one much of the pretty villages in the Gulf of Spezia. I arrived
at sunset, and the warm red and yellow tints which the dying orb of day
was shedding on the weather-beaten brownish houses, gave a heavenly
appearance to this very earthly place. As I got nearer, a good deal of
the heavenly had to be discarded, for the odours of fish-manure and of
seaweed are two smells which can hardly claim to be classed under that
heading. The inhabitants of the place themselves seem to feel the
ill-effects of constantly living in that corrupted atmosphere and on a
fish and seaweed diet; for, indeed, it is revolting to see the amount of
horrible cutaneous diseases which affect them. One hardly sees one
creature out of ten that is not covered with a repulsive eruption of
some sort. Leprosy, too, has found its way among the fishermen; and my
readers can easily imagine how pleasant it was for me, when I was
sketching, to be surrounded by a crowd of these loathsome people, who
all wished to touch my clothes and all my belongings, and who would even
lean on my back and rub their heads against mine, when trying to get a
better view of the sketch.
Poor things! I never had the courage to scold and send them away. It was
enough that they were afflicted, and I did not like to add humiliation
to their other sorrows by showing them my disgust.
I rode on to Erimo-zaki, or Rat Cape. Thick fogs are prevalent during
the summer months along the whole of the south-east coast, of which
Erimo-zaki is the most southern cape. It is the terminating point of the
backbone of the main portion of Yezo, which extends from Cape Soya to
Cape Erimo from N.NW. to S.SE. A lighthouse has lately been erected on
the cliffs by the Japanese Maritime Department, and a steam fog-horn has
also been provided for the greater safety of navigation, as a reef of
rocks and a stretch of shallow water extend out in the sea for about two
and a half miles from the coast.
The foghorn, I was informed, was only blown when the lighthouse-keeper
suspected some ship was likely to make for the rocks! A likely thing,
indeed!
"But how are you to know, especially when there is a thick fog on?" I
asked.
"So few ships pass near here," was the reply; "and it would not be much
use keeping steam up all the time to blow the horn, considering that we
have fog during nearly four months in the year."
"Then," I could not help remarking, "I expect you only light the
lighthouse when there is going to be a wreck?"
"Oh, no; we show the light every night."
This was just like the Japanese! Owing to the imperfectness of
charts--none delineating correctly that part of the coast--the strong
currents, the thick fogs, and the dangerous reefs, there could not be a
more perilous coast for navigation than that which terminates in Cape
Erimo. The ships which go from Shanghai, or some of the ports in the
Petchili Gulf in China, to North American ports, often steer this course
through the Tsugaru Strait and pass directly south of Cape Erimo. Thus
the _Mary Tatham_ (an English screw-steamer), while on her journey from
Shanghai to Oregon, was lost in 1882, with nearly all lives on board,
about two miles from this cape.
At the foot of the Erimo cliffs is a small fishing village called Okos.
The sea is shallow at this place, and there are many low-lying reefs
which afford abundance of kelp and seaweeds.
A short time before I arrived at Okos a man had gone out in his boat to
save some nets in which a large fish had got entangled. His boat
capsized, and he was drowned. His wife was in a dreadful state of mind,
not for the loss of her better half, but for the more irreparable loss
of the nets.
The distance between Horoizumi and Cape Erimo is seven and a half miles,
and the track is exceedingly rough in many places. Nearly half-way
between the last-mentioned village and the cape are the three high
pillars called _Utarop_, which are represented in the illustration at
the head of the chapter.
As it was impossible to take my ponies along the few miles between Cape
Erimo and Shoya, following the precipitous coast, I retraced my steps to
Horoizumi, meaning to attempt the mountain pass the next morning.
[Illustration: ERIMO CAPE.]
[Illustration: A NATURAL STONE ARCHWAY NEAR SHOYA.]