From Cape Soya to the Ishikari River.
From Soya the coast forms a large bay, which opens due north, and which
ends in Cape Soya on the eastern side and in Cape Nossyap on the
western. Almost in the middle is the small village of Coittoe, and from
this place, towering beyond the flat Nossyap peninsula, one can see
Rishiri Island. Near the western part of the bay are some small hills,
covered mainly with fir-trees. Wakkanai, a Japanese village, is on the
west coast of the bay, and north of it is Cape Nossyap. From this cape
is a lovely view of Rishiri and Repunshiri Islands. Rishiri is a
volcanic cone 6,400 feet above the level of the sea. It has the
identical shape of the famous Fujiama in Southern Japan, and rising as
it does in graceful slopes directly from the sea, has the appearance of
being higher than it really is. Repunshiri is hilly and partly of
volcanic formation, but none of its peaks rise to a higher altitude than
five hundred feet.
Rishiri is almost circular at sea-level, and it has no well-sheltered
nor safe anchorages; but Repunshiri has one good anchorage on its north
coast. Rishiri is about six and a half miles in diameter and twenty-five
miles distant, directly west of Cape Nossyap; Repunshiri is eleven miles
long, about four and a-half wide, and eleven miles distant to Ikaru, its
nearest point east on the Yezo coast. As the Kuriles are a continuation
east of the volcanic zone of Yezo, there is no doubt that Rishiri and
Repunshiri are the terminus of the same volcanic zone at its north-west
end.
From Wakkanai a new horse-track has been opened to Bakkai, on the
north-west coast. The ride for the first eleven miles was uncomfortable,
as my pony, a worn-out brute, sank up to its belly in the mud; but in
due course I came to the hilly part, and after having gone up one steep
pitch and down another for a considerable distance, I rapidly descended
a precipitous bank, and followed the soft sandy beach till I reached
Bakkai. Here there is a large and peculiar stone, which the Ainu say
resembles an old woman carrying a child on her back. It stands
perpendicularly out of the ground at a great height, and it is of a rich
dark-brown colour. If the north-east coast was barren and deserted, the
western shore of Yezo was even yet more desolate. For thirty or forty
miles, as far as the Teshio River, the beach was strewn with wrecks and
wreckage. Here you saw a boat smashed to pieces; there a mast cast on
the shore; further on a wheel-house washed away by the waves; then the
helm of a disabled ship. It was a sight sad enough to break one's heart,
with all the tragic circumstances it suggested.
Between Bakkai and Wadamanai especially, I do not think that one can go
more than a few yards at a time without being reminded by the wreckage
which is strewn thick on the coast of some calamity. A white life-boat,
with her stern smashed, lay on the sand helpless to save, and as a kind
of satire on her name; and at Wadamanai, a large Russian cruiser, the
"Crisorok," dismasted and broken in two, lay flat on the beach half
covered with sand. Her bridge had been washed away and her deck had sunk
in. Some of the bodies of her gallant officers and crew had been washed
on shore by the sea. No one knows in what circumstances the ship was
lost, but it is probable that during last winter, when she came to her
ill-fated end, her rigging and sails got top-heavy with ice, and that
she capsized. Some of the wreckage one finds on that coast has been
drifted there from the Chinese Sea by the Kuroshiwo current; and then,
owing to the La Perouse Strait turning so sharply to the east, has been
left on this last portion of the coast. Here and there a rough tent made
with a torn sail, or a deserted shed knocked up out of pieces of
wreckage, is a suggestive reminder that some unfortunate derelict
seafarer had suffered and striven for life on these forlorn sands. An
enormous quantity of drift-logs, and here and there some bones of
whales, are strewn all along the beach.
At Wadamanai there is a mere rough shed under the shelter of the
sand-hills. When I left this place, moving south, a strong gale blew,
which made the travelling most unpleasant. It was getting fearfully
cold, and now that I needed clothes so badly mine were falling
altogether to pieces. My "unmentionables," which reached down to my feet
when I left Hakodate at the beginning of my journey, had long since been
trimmed and reduced to a kind of knickerbockers. Then the knees got worn
out, and they became more like bathing-breeches; and finally I dispensed
with them altogether, and made use of them to protect my sketch-book and
diary, round which I wrapped what remained of the ex-garment. My boots,
of course, were a dream of the past, and little by little I was getting
accustomed to walking barefooted. Thus, dressed in a coat, a belt ...
and nothing else, I moved along this inhospitable coast, half frozen,
but not discomfited.
The mouths of some of the small rivulets were extremely nasty to cross,
as my pony sank in the quicksands. I had to help him out, and that meant
a cold bath each time. From Wadamanai I kept a little more inland, still
steering for the south, and every now and then I again struck the beach.
Still the old sad story of wreckages strewn all over the shore, sailing
boats smashed to pieces, junks disabled and half buried in sand, met me
at every turn, creating in my mind a very monotony of melancholy.
Late in the evening I reached the mouth of the Teshio River, a broad
deep watercourse, one of the three largest rivers in Hokkaido, the other
two being the Ishikari and the Tokachi. It has a long course in a
general north-westerly direction, and then sharply turns southward,
running parallel with the coast for about four miles, and forming a
kind of lagoon at its outlet, which seems now to be working towards the
northward again. All the other rivers on the west coast tend northward
owing to the drift-sand which the current brings north. It is strange
that the Teshio should partly be an exception to this rule, though we
have ample evidence, even in this watercourse, of the movement of the
sand, for the bar at its mouth almost entirely blocks its entrance, and
rapidly works in a northerly direction. Thus there is no doubt that the
sand travels towards the north all along the west coast.
Sea-trout is abundant in the Teshio River, but salmon, with which this
stream formerly abounded, are now less plentiful owing to the sand-bar
which blocks the entrance.
A gale was blowing fiercely when I crossed the lagoon in a small Ainu
"dug-out," and my pony was made to swim across. Two or three times we
nearly capsized, and we shipped a lot of water. It was just like sitting
in a bath with water up to my waist; but the Ainu, who had as much as he
could do to paddle me across and tow the pony as well, comforted me by
saying, "Now that his 'dug-out' was full, we could not ship any more
water, and that his skiff, being made of wood, could not sink!"
After a long struggle we got safely to the other side, and the Ainu
boatman guided me for a mile or so to the fishing village at the mouth
of the river. It has but ten huts, all more or less miserable. The pony
was so done up that he was hardly fit to carry my traps, much less could
he have borne my weight. I could not get a fresh animal, so I had to
push forward walking, and dragging the beast on as well as I could. This
had the advantage of keeping me warm, which I needed badly, for what
with the cold and my dilapidated costume I was more nearly frozen to
death than was pleasant. The track was heavy in the soft sand, and the
dangerous and numerous quicksand streams were enough to make a saint
swear--if swearing would have done any good. How unspeakably desolate it
all was! Not a soul to be met; not a hut to be seen! Here and there more
wreckage and drift-wood on the shore, telling of storms and death, and
the absence of all human aid. At last I came in sight of an Ainu hut;
but as I drew near I found that it was abandoned. My meals, never very
plentiful, were now specially scanty--few and far between; and, taken
altogether, this part of my travels in Ainuland was somewhat lacking in
cheerfulness.
The cliffs near Wembets have the strange appearance of so many cones at
equal intervals along the coast. On the Wembets River there were as many
as two huts; and here again I had to cross in a boat, the stream being
too deep to ford on foot or horseback; then again along the sand,
dragging my pony, while I myself could hardly stand on my half-skinned
feet, I went on and on, wearied of the monotony of my miserable
experiences. The track grew narrow, and always worse. The high grey
cliffs of clay-rock began, and the rough sea washed up to the foot of
them, making progress more than ever unpleasant and dangerous. Each wave
that came brought the water up to my knees, often up to my waist, and
for about ten miles I was continually in and out of water. On a cold day
my readers can imagine how pleasant it was! About sunset I came in sight
of the two flat islands of Teuri and Yangeshiri, about fifteen miles off
the coast. It then grew dark; but the moon came to my help, shining
brightly on the greyish cliffs. The tide had risen, and in several
places I had great difficulty in getting across on account of the
furious waves dashing against the cliffs, and making a picturesque and
living sheet of foam.
Late at night, as I had almost given up all hope of finding a shelter, I
came upon a shed on the Furembets River, where I put up for the night.
My wretched pony was nearly dead with fatigue, and I let him loose so
that he might get a feed of grass. The next morning, after the inmates
of the hut had volunteered to go and bring him back to me, I heard them
on the distant hills calling, "_Pop, pop, pop, pop!_" the Ainu way of
approaching and calling horses. After a time they came back hopeless,
saying that the brute had bolted, and there was no hope of getting him
again. He could not be found anywhere! I was in the most awful dilemma,
for had that been the case I would have been forced to abandon all my
impedimenta, consisting of sketches and painting materials, and proceed
as best I could on foot. Under other circumstances I could have carried
the baggage on my back easily; but as I was half-starved, and had my
feet badly cut, I was hardly able to carry my own weight; therefore this
was not possible now.
As incredulity is one of the useful qualities I possess, I went to look
after my pony myself. The shed was protected by a sand-mound at the
back, and a small space was left between the mound and the wall of the
shed. I do not know what made me go and look there, but sure enough
there was my pony lying flat, and almost too weak to get up again. This
was no horse-stealing ruse on the part of the Ainu; simply the wretched
animal's own idea of good stabling and likely fodder. I dragged him out
of his involuntary prison, and after having done what I could for his
comfort and well-being, we set out once more on our melancholy travels.
This may sound cruel to some who in the course of their life have never
travelled in out-of-the-way places, and who are ready to condemn anyone
who is the means of letting an animal suffer. It may sound cruel in our
humane country, where animals are protected and prize-fights tolerated
and enjoyed; so to avoid misunderstandings it might be as well for me to
say, that as regards this tired pony it was simply the matter to push on
with him as far as I could or lose all the valuable materials I had
collected during months of sufferings and privations. No ponies were to
be got for any money along that deserted coast, for there were none in
existence. I did my best to alleviate the poor animal's sufferings by
undergoing myself a considerable amount of pain, walking most of the way
with my feet a mass of sores; and as winter was rapidly coming on, I was
more than anxious to make my way south with all the speed I could, to
prevent being blocked up with snow and ice and forced to spend the
winter on this inhospitable coast. Consequently, I was, as a matter of
fact, more cruel to myself than to my animals; to the others, those who
will still cast the first stone at me, I can wish no better punishment
than to be placed in the same position I was then. The trail became
somewhat better, as it led over the cliffs for about three miles; then
again it was on the beach. The high cliffs varied from a very rich burnt
sienna colour to a nice warm grey, and in some places they are perfectly
white, like the cliffs at Dover. Conical mounds frequently occur, and
give a curious aspect to this deserted shore. Ten miles further on, at
Chukbets, I found a couple of huts; then I walked and dragged the pony
on the cliffs for about four miles; then again I resorted to the beach;
and finally I entered Hamboro, a small village, or rather a picturesque
group of sheds and huts, and a capital fishing-station. _Shake_, salmon,
_mashe_, and herrings are caught in abundance at the mouth of this
river. A short distance from here hundreds of carcasses of seals were
scattered on the beach, whence emanated pestilential odours. On account
of the slowness of my pony I had to-night a modified repetition of last
night's experience, but neither was the sea so rough nor the trail so
narrow at the bottom of the cliffs; and though my wretched animal was
naturally in a worse condition than before, I was able to push on to
Tomamai that same night, where I arrived at a small hour of the morning.
At Tomamai, the coast, which had described a long curve, the two ends of
which are Ikuru north and this point south, turns sharply in a southerly
direction, running straight for many miles from north to south.
From Tomamai southwards the coast is not quite as deserted as it was
further north, for here and there are villages of fishermen's houses.
The population, however, is a migratory one, and when I went through,
the herring-fishing season was over, and consequently most of the houses
were abandoned and the people had migrated south. The winter weather is
very severe, and the houses have to be barricaded with thick piles of
wood as a protection against the strong westerly gales. The boats had
been drawn far on shore, where they were well fastened to posts, and
rough sheds thatched with grass built over them.
Along the coast there was a string of these habitations, hut after hut,
storehouse after storehouse, but hardly a soul to be seen. It was like
going through the city of the dead. Many of the fishermen's huts were
built on the side of the rugged cliffs, and they stood on piles about
fifteen feet high, the back of the house resting on the cliff itself.
Twelve and a half miles further another row of houses, similarly
deserted for the winter, stood along the shore-line at Onishika. In this
part of the coast salmon are very scarce, and the chief industry is the
herring fishery. There are no Ainu to be found either at Tomamai or
Onishika.
I continued my lonesome ride in the pouring rain, and soon came to a
peculiar long tunnel, natural and partly excavated, between this place
and Rumoi, a village prettily situated on the slope of a hill fifteen
miles further. This place possesses a small anchorage at the mouth of
the river, which is now only fit for junks and small sailing-boats, but
could be considerably improved. Good coal has been discovered some way
up the river. There is a track on the cliffs leading to Mashike. All
along the coast are any number of fishermen's houses, but they were all
closed and barricaded. Ultimately, descending from the cliffs in a
zig-zag fashion, after another ten miles' ride I found myself at
Mashike, the largest Japanese village in the Teshio district. Close to
the tunnel there is a small Ainu village, where the natives let their
hair grow very long, and then tie it up in a kind of knot, similar to
the Corean fashion of head-dress, while the women have given up
tattooing altogether. The fishermen at Mashike seem to suffer greatly
from "_Kaki_," or rheumatism, and cancer, while consumption, malarial
fever, and typhus are in a small proportion.
I had to stop over one day at Mashike, for the river was swollen by the
heavy rains, and it was impossible to get across. On the other side of
it stood Mashike-san, a huge volcanic mountain rising sheer from the
sea, and forming Cape Kamuieto, under the shelter of which lies Mashike
village; and further south Cape Uhui projects into the sea. It is the
end of a mountain range which here runs north and then south again, in
the latter part forming one side of the upper basin of the Teshio River.
Mashike is the largest settlement either on the north-east or west coast
of Yezo. Its population is partly migratory, but not so wholly as is the
case with the villages I had previously passed. I was delayed still
another day owing to the condition of the river; for the rain, instead
of decreasing, poured down to such an extent that the stream could not
be crossed, the current being too swift and the water too deep. The sea
was also too rough to allow of my leaving Mashike in a canoe.
On the third day I rose early, and decided to attempt this much-desired
crossing of the river. It had not rained during the night, and the
waters seemed to have slightly diminished. As the stream runs down a
very steep incline on the slopes of Mashike Mountain, the current rushes
with tremendous force. It was about five in the morning when I took my
baggage to the river bank. It was made up in two bundles, which I tied
together firmly with a leather strap. Some of the natives who had
collected round me entreated me to give up this foolish idea, for they
said I should infallibly lose my life if I attempted to wade across the
swollen river.
I saw at once that my pony would never be able to cross, so I left him,
and, taking the baggage on my head, and passing my hands through the
strap, I went into the water. The current was indeed so strong that,
weak as I was, I could hardly stand against it. I had nearly reached the
middle, with the water up to my mouth, when I fancied I heard the
anxious crowd scream to me, "_Abunai! abunai! abunai!_"--"Look out! look
out! look out!" Startled and alarmed at this piercing cry I turned my
head, and saw within a few yards of me a huge trunk of a tree coming
swiftly down with the current. There was a bump, and I saw nothing more.
Half a minute later I was violently thrown on the opposite bank, and in
trying to stand up on my feet in the shallow water my right foot
unfortunately got jammed between two stones in the river bed; I was
knocked down again, and broke my heel-bone just under the ankle. Several
natives came to my rescue and I was lifted out of the water,
half-stunned, half-drowned, but still holding fast to my load. I was
nearly frozen, and trembling like a leaf from cold. When I tried to
stand my right leg collapsed, and I had to lie down on the ground. What
with the blow which I had received from the floating wood, what with the
muddy water I had involuntarily swallowed, it took me some minutes
before I could quite understand my situation, or what had befallen me.
When I did I felt a terrible pain in my right leg. I looked, and there,
on the sand, under my foot and leg, which were swollen up to an enormous
size, was a pool of blood; the broken bone had penetrated the skin, and
was exposed to the air. When I recovered my senses well enough I got a
man to tear the wet lining of my drenched coat, and with it and a few
improvised splints I proceeded to set my own broken bone. It was hard
work; but with the help of some natives I bandaged it up as well as I
could, and with the extra help of a coarse flaxen rope I made a fairly
good surgical job of the whole thing.
Stopping there till I grew better would have been foolish, for winter
was setting in; everything would soon be frozen and snowed up, and, far
from all my friends, as well as from anything like civilised life or
elementary comforts as I was, I should probably have died. As long as I
had a spark of life left in me I decided that I would struggle and push
on, come what might. Two men undertook to carry me over the Mashike
Mountain, which rises to an altitude of 3,600 feet above the sea-level.
The mountain is thickly wooded, and the trail is steep, heavy, and in
many places dangerous, and when we reached a sufficient altitude the
trail was merely in the bed of a rivulet composed mainly of huge stones.
Travelling in the state in which I was, was something like going to
one's own funeral. The jerking and the cold were excruciating; the
continuous stumbling and unsteady walk of my men over the rough and
slippery slopes did not improve my condition; but finally we reached the
summit. What a lovely view! One could see far along the Teshio coast on
the one side and down towards the Ishikari on the other, and towards the
east rose up a picturesque chain of thickly-wooded mountains. Rising
from the sea stood the fine Cape Airup, near Moi; then far beyond, dimly
seen in the mist, was the towering outline of Shakotan. We went down the
other side, and my men, poor fellows, did their best to cheer me up. One
of them told me a cheering story of a grizzly bear--which, by the way,
he said were numberless on this mountain--that had killed and eaten two
children, and also their father when the latter went to their rescue.
The other told me of the many men who had perished in crossing the
mountain; some had been overtaken by a snowstorm, others had lost their
way and fallen over precipices, while others again had been killed by
avalanches in winter.
Listening to this lively conversation, shaken and suffering, I arrived
late at night at Moi, having been carried over a distance of twenty-five
miles, to do which occupied about eighteen hours. There was no possible
way of getting across the mountains between here and Atzta, as the high
granitic perpendicular cliffs are unscalable, and I was bound to
entrust my life to a small Ainu canoe. Two other passengers, a Japanese
woman and a man, asked if I would allow them to travel in the boat with
me; and then we three, rowed by an Ainu man, put out to sea. The sea was
rough outside, but as the large bay was well protected by the Aikap
Cape, all went right at first; but in rounding the point we went too
near the rocks, got caught in a breaker, and shipped so much water that
the canoe began to slowly sink under the additional weight. The Ainu was
pretty smart, and he put his skiff on the rocks. Between him and the two
passengers I was helped out, and while the Ainu emptied the canoe, the
two Japanese undressed entirely and spread out all their clothes and
underclothes in the sun to dry.
We got on board again, and, coasting more carefully, passed several
small fishing villages, of which Gokibira is the largest and most
important. It is backed by high mountains ranging from twelve hundred to
seventeen hundred and more feet above the sea. One of the mountains--the
highest--is called Okashi-nae-yama.
Atzta is a long narrow village, of which almost all the houses are built
against the cliff. From here I had to begin riding again along the bad
and stony coast, among drift-wood, and up and down cliffs. Anyone who
has ever had any broken bones will appreciate the tortures which I had
to go through. Owing to pain, exhaustion, and fatigue I had no control
over my pony, and could hardly stick on to the saddle. I took the
precaution of tying the bridle to my wrist, for should the pony knock me
off, he could not bolt away; but, unhappily, sometimes this was the
means of his dragging me mercilessly on the ground for dozens of yards
before he would stop. Then I had to wait for some charitable passer-by
to help me into the saddle again, for I could no longer mount by myself.
Day after day of this wretched life made me feel almost unconscious that
I had a pain. I took things as they came, and I went on. Now that I sit
here in a comfortable chair writing this by a cosy fire, I am myself
astonished at my own perseverance. If I were called upon to go through
the same experience now I could not. But in truth there are many things
that one does not mind doing for motives of pleasure which one would
never dream of attempting under the compulsion of an external will.
Kutambets is picturesquely situated in a large gully formed by a break
in the red-tinted cliffs. From Kutambets to Moroi the track is slightly
better, and from this to Ishikari it is quite easy. The latter river, a
very large one, has to be crossed by a ferry, as the habitations are on
the south banks of the stream.
[Illustration: ISHIKARI KRAFTU AINU.]
[Illustration: THE KAMUIKOTAN RAPIDS.]