NEARING THE BOUNDARY LINE OF CHINA--A LONG TRAMP WITH THE WHEELS
AS IDLERS--A WARNING TO BANDITS.
We remained under the hospitable roof of Dr. McCartney's residence for
nine days, during which time Mrs. McIlrath recovered from the serious
illness which threatened her in the mountains. Her recovery dated from
the moment we became the guests of the kind-hearted doctor, and was so
rapid that she was able to attend dinner parties given by Commissioner
Schutt, the Misses Galloway and Meyer, of the Methodist Deaconess'
Home, Rev. Mr. Peet and wife, Rev. Mr. Mandy and wife, and to accept
the invitation of the latter to visit their Industrial School two and
a half miles from the city. As all these, except the commissioner,
were from America, the time passed only too rapidly. The evening before
our departure, we were very agreeably entertained by the Rev. Mr. and
Mrs. Claxton, of the English Mission. We left Chung King Sept. 17,
under Dr. McCartney's guidance, wheeling out of the west gate of
the city. The sun had shown his presence on but one occasion of our
nine days' sojourn, and our departure, like our entry, was made in a
drizzling rain. Our road lay over hills and valleys through a fertile,
but badly torn up country. Bicycling was out of the question and we
carried our wheels slung on bamboo poles in such a manner that they
would be ready for use in less than two minutes. To prevent rusting
we daubed the nickeled parts and bearings with vaseline. The saddles
were kept dry by tying oiled paper over the leather pads. Swung between
the poles, which were carried by two coolies, the machines rode easily,
and yet did not hamper the progress of the carriers. The luggage cases,
with fresh white lettering, informed passers-by (or those of them who
could read English) that the little procession of which the wheels
formed the most interesting part, were on a "World's tour for the Inter
Ocean, Chicago, U. S. A." We accomplished on an average forty miles
a day until Sept. 20, when the signs of the country indicated that
we were then in the last province of China, Yunnan, whose chief fame
is in its proximity to Burmah. Great numbers of Mohammedans offering
for sale beef, mutton and pork, were to be seen along the road. They
were not in such number, however, that we felt encouraged in buying
the flesh displayed, as the Buddhists were in great evidence, and
being vegetarians, they never tasted meat. We therefore refrained
from purchasing, reasoning that the beef was probably "shop worn."
The rain continued to fall in torrents and the last miles of our
journey through China were made in an ocean of mud. Every garment we
wore was soaked, our blankets wet through and through, and our shoes
were in shreds. We had great difficulty in obtaining coolies to carry
our burdens, and as I look back upon it now, I can scarcely blame them
for not wishing to push on from early morn till night with a strong
west wind driving the sheets of water in their faces. What the brave
Lenz must have endured with no companion, I can well imagine from
the recollections of the terrible mental depression offered by our
trip. As Mrs. McIlrath and I trudged along, our very misery at times
became so great that we were able to extract a certain hysterical
amusement from it. My attire was conglomerate. A bicycle cap adorned
my head; a Norfolk jacket my body; a pair of pajamas my legs; top
boots over my feet, and straw sandals tied on these. Over my shoulders
was draped my red blanket; on my back was strapped a Chinese sword;
in my hand was a heavy walking-stick, and in my holsters a pair of
rusty 45's. This mixture of bicycle, bedroom, Navajo Indian, cowboy
and Broadway costumes delighted Mrs. McIlrath, who seemed to forget
that she wore a dilapidated bloomer costume, patched half and half,
with a man's sun helmet upon her head. Many of the temples, bridges
and arches that we passed in the province seemed familiar owing to
the photographs taken by Lenz and reproduced in his articles. I was
much disappointed that I could not duplicate many of them, but the
weather we encountered put an end to all thoughts of photography. Still
tramping onward in the rain, the bicycles seemed to realize our misery,
and occasionally when the wheels touched against some object they spun
for minutes as if remonstrating against being carried and demanding
an opportunity to "stretch their spokes." Careful inspection daily
failed to reveal a fault or a flaw in the machines. Cyclists will be
pleased to know that wooden rims stand all manner of climates. Since
leaving Chicago in April of '95 to the September of '96, we had no
occasion to alter or adjust either our rims or spokes.
On Sept. 24 we once more came upon the banks of the Yang-Tse-Kiang
crossing and re-crossing it three times before getting to Sui Foo. In
this part of the country we obtained our first view of a typical
Chinese grove of feathery bamboo. Many writers have described vividly
these beautiful pictures, but I fear many received their inspiration
from a single tree scattered somewhere along the route of their
journey. At any rate, I know that the bamboo flourishes in groves
peculiar to this part of the empire, and I know further that, beside
ourselves, Lenz and Margary have been the only ones who ever crossed
China overland from coast to boundary line. General indisposition
of Mrs. McIlrath, myself, and also of the boy Leo, delayed us at
Sui Foo until Oct. 25. We wanted for nothing during our stop in the
city, Dr. C. H. Finch and the Rev. Robert Wellwood of the American
Baptist Mission being untiring in their attentions and courtesies
bestowed. Our journey for the next few hundred miles continued to be
one afoot. By the time we arrived at Poa Tung we were so road-bruised
that we were compelled to knock off our journey and devote two entire
days to the application of poultices and hot water to our swollen and
blistered feet. On Sunday, Oct. 28, after a most exhausting tramp,
the Inter Ocean tourists reached Tai Kwan Hseen. The road had been
over the rockiest of mountain paths and we did not have an opportunity
of riding our wheels until after we had passed through the cities
of Chau Tung. More than one thousand miles of mud-plastered hills
and half-submerged valley had we practically walked since entering
Ichang, and more than 900 miles of that distance had been covered
during rainstorms. Novice never was prouder, when discharged from
the padded walls of a cyclery as a full-fledged rider, than were we
as we flushed down a boulevard leading out of Chau Tung. We covered
as much as fifty miles before a pause. In our enthusiasm we probably
overlooked many defects in the road, and corrugations and boulders
were passed over without any jar to the perfect contentment which
rendered our spirits oblivious to slight inconveniences. Our stop at
Chau Tung registered 9,000 miles over the worst roads in America,
the best in Japan, and the miserable frame-racking paths of China,
and our wheels still rode as easily and were as rigid as the day we
pedaled out Washington Boulevard in Chicago. The people ran through the
fields to head us off, here with laughter and approval and again with
mumbled threats of resentment at the invasion of their land by "the
foreign devils on iron horses." Old men joined in the unique procession
which followed us at times for more than three or four miles.
Knowing that we could wheel but a part of the distance ahead of us,
we had sent our bicycle carriers to be overtaken on the road ahead. We
overtook and passed our coolies at a point precisely suited to our
needs. Checked suddenly by a rocky hill several miles in length,
we were forced to dismount, deposit our bicycles by the roadside
and walk on. We might be considered rash for leaving our machines
unprotected in such a barbarous country, but we knew that no persons
were on the road between ourselves and coolies, and travelers going
in the opposite direction would not be met with until after reaching
the Half-Way Station of the day's journey. This important place
Mrs. McIlrath and I reached fully an hour before our wheels arrived,
and thus had plenty of time to marvel why, in such a miserable village
of ten tea huts conducted by a hundred ragged, filthy natives, a
magnificent triple archway of granite should be erected. Not one of
the natives whom we questioned was able to explain this problem of
why 30,000 silver taels of the people's money had been so expended.
The coolies overtook us with our wheels and fairly level roads enabled
us to ride the greater part of the distance to Jeang Di, the village
selected as the stopping place for the night. The paths were now
trails worn deep into the clay by pony caravans, often so narrow
that the pedals of the machines would strike the sides alternately,
and so deep that our handle-bars skimmed within a few inches of the
earth's level. We overtook a number of caravans, enjoying many comical
antics by the sturdy animals who did not appear to be pleased at their
first sight of the bicycle. Pedaling along the crests of the mountain
ranges was delightful. Strong breezes cooled the air, and though the
sun shone brightly we did not suffer from the heat until we descended
into Jeang Di, dropping in five miles over six thousand feet. In
the city the air found no possibility of circulation, and overcome
with the intense heat and the exertion of the day, Mrs. McIlrath
was compelled to retire, while I, scarcely able to understand the
strange dizziness and confused vision, staggered about as if drunk
until nausea informed me we had narrowly escaped sunstroke. We were
told that many native travelers suffered in the same manner, and when
the descent is considered the change is almost as sudden as cold,
rare air to stifling heat. Bicycling was out of the question next
morning and we sent our coolies ahead while we resumed our trip on
foot. Far up in the mountains, where the air had again turned cold and
the winds were biting and raw, we passed one of the hermit widows of
China, a peculiar class of fanatics, who in Buddhist belief are said
to receive great merit in the veiled world. Her husband dying while
the marriage festivities were being celebrated, the widow vowed never
again to marry or participate in earthly pleasures. So high in the
mountains she made her home and upon a pallet of filthy straw she
slept by night and sat by day.
In collecting curios we endeavor to select such of interest as we
could conveniently carry without additional cost, but in Yunnan
Foo we inspected a natural curio that I would pay any sum could I
have transported it to America. The coveted marvel was Chang, the
Yunnan giant. He was a better specimen of giant than his illustrious
namesake who once toured the United States to his great profit. When
only fifteen years old this junior Chang carried on his enormous feet
six feet of manhood, and later increased his height to seven feet
nine inches and his weight to 340 pounds. He wears a No. 13 glove and
requires No. 14 shoes. When the missionaries ushered into our presence
this massive form I was too stunned to speak. Clad in the red uniform
of the Chinese army, his head wrapped in a black turban, he towered
above me until I felt that he could not possibly be human. Being six
feet and a fraction in height myself, I am accustomed to look down, or
at best on a level, into the faces of other people, but to be compelled
to bend my head sharply back to look at this huge fellow's shoulders
was a decidedly new experience. As we were riding the "Great Stone
Road" from Yunnan Foo we passed eleven small cages hung on eleven dead
trees. In each cage rested the head of a human being. The sight was
not one to be described. On the ground about the trees were baskets,
ropes and yokes which had been used in conveying the heads from the
execution grounds. Not one of the natives who hastened past with bowed
heads dared to touch with foot or hand these abandoned trophies. At
the next village we were told that the heads were those of eleven
bandits who robbed a silk shop in the village, murdering two men and
one woman, and almost causing the death of the aged mother of their
victims. Decapitation was the punishment awarded, and that passing
thieves might be warned against similar fates, the bodies were buried
and the heads hung up as object lessons.