The Kutcharo River and Lake--A Sulphur Mine--Akkeshi and its Bay.
The Kutcharo River is of some importance, for though not of great
length, it is navigable by small boats for nearly twenty miles from its
mouth.
I left Kushiro one morning, and made my way up the river, not by boat
but along its banks on horseback, so as to get a better idea of the
surrounding country and its inhabitants. At Kushiro I left more than
half my luggage, to be sent down to Hakodate by the first ship that
happened to call, and this greatly changed my mode of travelling.
Instead of two ponies, one pony would now be quite sufficient to carry
my baggage and myself; and where ponies were not obtainable, I could
carry all my paraphernalia on my own back with no very great difficulty,
and in this way I should not be hindered on my journey.
I daresay the baggage I was carrying now weighed about forty-five
pounds. It mostly consisted of painting materials, and wooden panels, on
which I usually paint my sketches when travelling.
As to clothes and boots, I was beginning to be rather "hard up." No
weaver's work, no tailor's garments, nor tanner's hides, can stand the
wear and tear of such rough travelling as I had had, and the old saying,
that a "light heart and a thin pair of breeches carry you a long way,"
is most decidedly not to be applied to anyone journeying to and fro on a
pack-saddle in Yezo. My coat and trousers were showing signs of rapid
decay, and I thought with vain desire of needle and thread, buttons and
hooks. My boots were falling to pieces owing to their continual
immersion in salt water. The impossibility of cleaning or greasing them
added to the original damage; and, worse luck of all, they could not be
replaced. Altogether, what with frayed garments, leaky boots, a battered
hat, and a general out-at-elbows air, I was scarcely presentable in any
society a grade above that of the hairy Ainu.
A road has been cut between Kushiro and Shibetcha, a distance of thirty
miles; but though quite new, it is already out of repair, and it will
not be long before it is washed away entirely. The Japanese Government
does its best to open roads near the largest settlements, but Japanese
officials do not seem to understand that after a road has been made it
has to be kept in repair.
The country all along is good, and the soil seems rich and fertile.
Nearly half-way up, on the east side of the Kutcharo River, are three
lakes,--the Takkobe, the Tori Lake, and the Shirin. The Tori is the
largest. Its length is five miles, its width about one mile. On the
southern shore of this lake is a picturesque Ainu village, with its old
tumble-down huts, and close to it is a group of Japanese houses. The
contrast between the dirty and neglected old hovels of the Ainu and the
clean, spruce, and somewhat finikin houses of the Japanese is very
striking. In this difference we read an epitome of the way in which
civilisation has travelled from primitive barbarism. The road runs
through dense forests; but in several places, especially on its highest
level, we come to lovely views of mountain scenery, towering over the
shimmering water of the underlying lakes.
In the evening I reached Shibetcha, a nice little place, constructed on
each side of a large road which rises considerably as it goes through
the village. The village lies in a small valley surrounded by moderately
high mountains, and is on the western side of the Kutcharo River, which
intersects the valley. A wooden bridge and a three-storied Japanese
tea-house are the two main structures in the place. There are
sixty-eight houses in the village, and nearly half of them are houses of
ill-fame, the three-storied tea-house being the principal.
At a distance of twenty-five miles from here is a sulphur mine, and the
miners, after having amassed sufficient money, come and squander it at
Shibetcha, thus supporting this nook of demoralization in the wilderness
of these mountains. As the river becomes very shallow, the mineral from
the sulphur mine of Yuzan was carried until quite recently on
pack-saddles as far as here, whence it was brought down by boat to
Kushiro for shipment; but a small railway, on which only a "truck train"
is now running once a day from the mine to Shibetcha, has greatly
simplified matters, and increased the export returns of the mine.
By the kind permission of the Mitsui Company I was allowed to travel on
one of the trucks (no passenger carriages being provided), and the two
and a half hours' journey was thus accomplished much more comfortably
than if I had ridden the twenty-five miles on my pack-saddle. The
railway took me to the foot of Mount Yuzan, and that same afternoon I
made the ascent of the mountain. The most valuable sulphur deposits in
Japan are found on this mountain, the quantity of the mineral being
practically unlimited. The ascent was hard work, but it was interesting
to see the _fumaroles_, whence the sulphur is extracted, and whence a
dense smoke shoots out with great force. The whole mountain is covered
with thick layers of sulphur of very good quality, and when more
practical processes are employed for the extraction and carriage of the
mineral there is no doubt that the sulphur trade will assume a very
prominent place in the exports of Yezo. Dozens of men are employed now
to carry the sulphur from the mountain to the railway, but there is work
enough for hundreds and hundreds more. All the sulphur is at present
carried on small wheelbarrows, which each man slings on to his shoulders
when empty and he is going up the mountain. When the sulphur is reached
the workman sits down, pulls out his pipe, which he fills from the folds
of his tobacco-pouch, has a quiet smoke and a good rest, then he slowly
fills his wheelbarrow with the primrose-yellow blocks, and comfortably
wheels it down hill to the station, a considerable distance. Such a
primitive fashion of carriage involves great loss of time, and a simple
mechanical contrivance, by which a large quantity of mineral could be
brought down at one time, would save an enormous amount of labour, and
therefore expense. A cable railway would answer the purpose to
perfection, and the cost of running the steam motor would be
insignificant, owing to the amount of wood and coal found within easy
reach. I passed through a large gorge in the mountain, and finally
reached the summit of Yuzan. Walking on sulphur beds is like walking on
ice, and many a time in the climb I landed on my knees. Near the summit
is a huge pinnacle of volcanic rock, standing up perpendicularly, and of
impossible access. From the foot of this pinnacle a lovely view of the
Kutcharo Lake is obtained, and it has as a background chain after chain
of thickly-wooded mountains, beyond which are visible Oakan and Moyokan,
two volcanic peaks, respectively four thousand and three thousand four
hundred feet above the level of the sea. On Moyokan are some hot springs
and accumulations of sulphur. Both these peaks can be seen from the
coast on a clear day. A small lake lies between Moyokan and Oakan, which
takes its name from the latter mountain, and finds an outlet in the
Oakan River. The Oakan joins the Kutcharo River not far from the sea.
[Illustration: KUTCHARO LAKE FROM MOUNT YUZAN.]
The descent was easier than the ascent, and I put up at a small
tea-house, the only one in the place. The landlord promised to get me a
good pony early the next morning, but, like a true Japanese, he did not
keep his promise. He called me at 5 A.M., saying that the pony would be
ready in a few minutes, and at 9 A.M. the quadruped had not put in an
appearance; and after numberless excuses, compliments, bows, and lies,
the landlord acknowledged that no ponies were to be had. I gave my
luggage to a railway _employé_, who undertook to bring it back to
Shibetcha, and I started on foot for Lake Kutcharo. From Yuzan a track
across the mountains goes due north to Abashiri, on the north-east
coast. I went in a south-westerly direction, and as on the previous day
from the summit of Yuzan I had noted the position of Lake Kutcharo, I
had no difficulty in finding my way there; in fact, I came upon a small
Ainu track leading to it. A delightful walk of ten miles in the forest
took me to the Ainu village of Kutcharo, on the borders of the lake of
the same name. The village is a miserable one; it differs from all other
Ainu villages in its huts, which have semicircular roofs instead of
angular ones, as is the case with the Ainu of Volcano Bay and of the
Saru and Tokachi Rivers. I entered some of the huts, and in a few
minutes I was surrounded by the small population--I daresay about twenty
souls, all included--whom I led out into the open air to see what they
were like. They appeared to me smaller than other Ainu, and their bones
were less massive; they were not so hairy, and more inclined to
baldness. Their garments were wretched, and resembled those worn by the
Tokachi Ainu; namely, a few rags held together one could scarcely say
how. Women were tattooed on their lips and arms, but less extensively
than are those of other tribes, and the tattooing was not so accurately
done.
Other Ainu whom I met in the forest in the neighbourhood of this village
bore the same characteristics, and everyone seemed to be curiously
melancholy and depressed. An Ainu existence is certainly not one's ideal
of comfort and hilarity, but their gloom and melancholy seem to me to be
purely racial and congenital.
The Lake Kutcharo is very large--too large to be seen to advantage from
its borders, as one can see only parts, and not the whole of it at once.
It has a pretty island in the centre, and on the west side is a
peninsula projecting almost as far as the island. On this peninsula a
small active geyser is found, which rises to a height of about twelve
feet, and acts spasmodically. The high mountains which surround the lake
would make the latter a pleasant summer resort were the place within the
circle of civilisation. The scenery is very similar to that of Norway or
the Scotch lakes. The Kutcharo River, as can be seen on the map, is an
outlet of the Lake Kutcharo, into which the waters of the latter
discharge themselves a few hundred yards west of the Ainu village.
[Illustration: SULPHUR MINE.]
An Ainu pointed out to me the track leading to Tetcha, or Tetchkanga,
and I directed my steps in that direction, the Ainu having informed me
that it was very far, and that I could only reach it at night. I crossed
the stream in a "dug-out," and found the track on the other side. I
walked fast, for the most part through a thickly-wooded country, and at
about sunset I reached Tetcha. The distance from Kutcharo, I should
think, is about ten or twelve miles. Tetcha is an Ainu village, near
which a few Japanese houses have been built. The Kutcharo River
intersects it, and the sulphur train from Yuzan stops here to take water
on its way to Shibetcha. The train had gone through some hours
previously, and I was left the alternative of walking on to Shibetcha,
twenty miles further, or of sleeping at Tetcha. I had walked twenty or
twenty-two miles already that day, and I felt in very good form. I knew
that it would be full moon that night; and walking through a forest by
moonlight has always had a great charm for me. Watching the shadows,
with their thousand different fantastic forms, running in and out
through the trees and playing round them, has the same weird fascination
for me as one of Tieck's tales, or the suggestive music of an æolian
harp. Some of the Ainu and a Jap entreated me not to attempt to cross
the forest at night, for wolves and bears were numerous, they said, and
in all probability I should be attacked by them. This last announcement,
which I was destined to hear every day in Yezo, and which, of course, I
did not believe, decided me to go, and I started.
"But," cried after me the astonished Japanese, "_anata micci
wakarimasen_!"--"You do not know the way!"
"_Kamaimasen, Sayonara!_"--"It little matters; good-bye!" was my reply;
and I left him standing there perplexed, looking after me as if I had
been a phenomenon.
The Japanese in Yezo and the Ainu never on any account travel far at
night; and as for going through a forest alone, unprotected, and without
knowing the way, they evidently regarded it as something more
reprehensible than folly. Two days previously, when in the train, I had
noticed that the railway described a curve several miles long, and I
knew then that by cutting across I could considerably shorten my way.
When I entered the forest, the sun with its last rays was casting warm
tints on the tops of the pine-trees. Everything was still, and only now
and then some huge owl, awakened by the noise of my steps from its day's
long sleep, would fly away, starting off on its night's peregrinations
and depredations. I walked mile after mile, and finally struck the rails
again. On a white post I saw a cipher in Chinese characters, which
brought me back to the reality that I was still seventeen miles away
from Shibetcha. I followed the line of rail as closely as I could, and
late at night I reached Shibetcha. I roused the people at the _Marui
yadoya_, and, having eaten some salmon and water soup, I retired to my
_foutangs_, between which, it is useless to say, I slept well. I had
walked forty-two odd miles that day, and it had been a pleasant change
from the continuous riding on pack-saddles.
The next day I rode down to the coast to the bay of Akkeshi, about
forty-two miles east of Kushiro. The road is very good all the way, and
has on each side woods of oak and pine trees. The traffic on it is at
present very small, and the only living creatures I saw during the
twenty-eight or thirty miles were a beautiful long-tailed red fox and a
number of Japanese convicts led by a policeman. These were dressed in
red trousers and a short red coat made of coarse material. They were
walking in a row, and they were chained two by two, and, moreover, a
long rope joined the chain of each couple to that of the next, so that
all couples were tied together. The end of this rope was held by the
policeman. Some of them wore large hats entirely covering their face;
others wore no hat at all, and had their head shaved in a peculiar
manner. They were mostly bare-footed, but a few wore straw sandals. The
Government wisely makes use of these convicts in opening roads and other
public works, and after their term of punishment is expired, these men
almost invariably become fishermen. A great part of the Japanese
population of Yezo is composed of exiles and ex-convicts; in other
words, Yezo is nothing more or less to Japan than what Australia was to
England some years ago.
Nearing the coast I passed the "Tonden" of Hondemura, a colonial militia
farming settlement. A long line of new houses, all exactly alike in
shape and size, and built at intervals, stretches on each side of the
wide road. Each of these houses is inhabited by a man who has served his
time as a soldier, and who has now his family about him, and does work
as a farmer in this settlement assigned to him. These "Tondens" were
established by the Government, and I believe that the farmer-soldiers
give fairly good results in the zeal and industry with which they
cultivate the land, and the honesty and morality of their lives. I saw
most of them occupied in stubbing up the scrub, and tearing or cutting
down the trees, burning the more worthless parts; but it will be some
years yet before they have cleared an area of cultivable land
sufficiently large for profit, as the country is very thickly wooded in
that neighbourhood.
Soon after I had passed the settlement, going down a steep hill I came
upon a small and dirty semi-Ainu village, and ultimately reached the
seashore.
The distance from Shibetcha is thirty miles, and the riding was
beginning to be unpleasant, owing to the gathering darkness, which made
my pony shy at everything it passed. At the mouth of the Pehambe Ushi
River I had great difficulty in getting my pony on the ferry-boat, which
was to take me across the mouth of the lagoon to Akkeshi. Several
drunken fishermen came on board, and were disagreeably noisy. One of
these fellows had a pony, which he tied to mine when on board. The ferry
was to take us across the entrance of the Akkeshi lagoon, and it was
more than a quarter of an hour before we reached the opposite shore.
When we were still nearly twenty feet from _terra firma_, my pony,
frightened at the cries of the drunken crowd, jumped overboard, carrying
with him his companion steed. The sudden shock and lurch of the boat
knocked down everybody on board, and nearly capsized us. As it was we
shipped a lot of water. The ponies found the water deeper than they
expected, and they had to swim for it. Having landed before he came
ashore, I recaptured mine, gave him a sound thrashing, and rode on to
Akkeshi, a few hundred yards from the landing-place. Akkeshi lies at the
north-east side of the large bay which goes by the same name, and which,
by the way, is probably one of the best anchorages on the south coast of
Yezo. The mouth of the bay is to the southward; it extends seven miles
in a northerly direction, and is about six miles wide in its widest
part. The bay is prolonged further inland by a large lagoon, called
Se-Cherippe, which contains many shoals and low islands, near which are
beds of oysters of enormous size, the shells of some measuring as much
as eighteen inches in length. The Koro-pok-kuru, by whom this district
was formerly thickly populated, seem to have relished this diet, as we
find thick beds of discarded shells on the top of some of the lower
hills, and in many places, especially in the vicinity of pits. These
shell heaps are similar to those found on the main island of Nippon, and
attributed to the Ainu. (_See_ Chapter IX.)
The country round the bay and the lagoon forms a high land or plateau
between two hundred and three hundred feet above the level of the sea,
and the higher ground is thickly wooded, thus supplying Akkeshi with
abundance of timber, mostly of evergreen trees, as Todo and Yezo-matzu,
two spruces common in other parts of Yezo as well. With its good
harbour, its large export of oysters, salmon, herrings, fish-manure, and
seaweed, besides its seal-fishery and the quantity of good timber easily
cut and transported down the lagoon and across the bay for shipment, it
is not surprising that Akkeshi has become, after Hakodate, the most
important centre on the southern coast. It is nearly half as large again
as Kushiro, and has as many as nine hundred Japanese houses, besides
sixty or seventy Ainu huts.
The Ainu were formerly extremely numerous in this district; but few of
them are left now, and those few are indeed poor specimens of their
race. They have nearly all become bald, and they seem to suffer very
severely from rheumatism. Thick fogs are very prevalent along the coast,
and it is but seldom that one can obtain a view of the whole bay. These
fogs naturally render navigation unsafe, and are one of the great
drawbacks to the prosperity of the place. However, our good Londoners
could tell us that greater evils than fogs can exist. I have no doubt
that at some future date we shall hear of Akkeshi as being the most
important port in Yezo, when a railway to join it to Shibetcha shall
have been constructed. The sulphur of Mount Yuzan will probably then be
taken direct to this place instead of Kushiro, owing to the safety of
its harbour, an advantage which Kushiro does not possess. The Akkeshi
Bay is also interesting from a picturesque point of view, when fogs give
one a chance of seeing the surrounding scenery. Some fine headlands are
found near the town of Akkeshi, and also on each side of the opening of
the bay into the ocean. On the eastern side, the two islands of Daikuku
and Kodaikuku, joined to the mainland by the low reef, slightly under
water-level, which goes round the bay, are of some importance for an
artist. This is especially true of the larger island of Daikuku, which
rises at a considerable height above the sea, forming majestic cliffs,
beautiful in shape and colour, on which myriads of seagulls,
albatrosses, and penguins have chosen their abode, finding in these
almost untrodden and picturesque cliffs a safe place in which to lay
their eggs and rear their young. Here they live undisturbed, save for
the dashing waves of the ocean, which make the earth tremble and the
rock crumble to pieces, but only meet with a blithesome welcome from the
screaming, light-hearted, fat, and lazy-winged inhabitants, to whom
those waves bring good stores of daily food.
[Illustration: AKKESHI IN A FOG.]
[Illustration: AINU MAN AND WOMAN ON HORSEBACK.]