THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY
I know of no other country about which there is so much
_misinformation_ as about Mongolia. Because the Gobi Desert stretches
through its center the popular conception appears to be that it is
a waste of sand and gravel incapable of producing anything. In the
preceding chapters I have attempted to give a picture of the country
as we found it and, although our interests were purely zoölogical,
I should like to present a few notes regarding its commercial
possibilities, for I have never seen a land which is readily accessible
and is yet so undeveloped.
Every year the Far East is becoming increasingly important to the
Western World, and especially to the people of the United States, for
China and its dependencies is the logical place for the investment of
American capital. It is the last great undeveloped field, and I am
interested in seeing the American business man appreciate the great
opportunities which await him in the Orient.
It is true that the Gobi Desert is a part of Mongolia, but only in
its western half is it a desolate waste; in the eastern section it
gradually changes into a rolling plain covered with "Gobi sage brush"
and short bunch grass. When one looks closely one sees that the
underlying soil is very fine gravel and sand.
There is little water in this region except surface ponds, which are
usually dry in summer, and caravans depend upon wells. The water in the
desert area contains some alkali but, except in a few instances, the
impregnation is so slight that it is not especially disagreeable to the
taste. Mr. Larsen told me that there is no part of the country between
Kalgan and Urga in which water cannot be found within ten or twenty
feet of the surface. I am not prepared to say what this arid region
could be made to produce. Doubtless, from the standpoint of agriculture
it would be of little importance but sheep and goats could live upon
its summer vegetation, I am sure.
It is difficult to say where the Gobi really begins or ends when
crossing it between Kalgan and Urga, for the grasslands both on the
south and north merge so imperceptibly into the arid central part
that there is no real "edge" to the desert; however, it is safe to
take Panj-kiang as the southern margin, and Turin as the northern
limit, of the Gobi. Both in the north and south the land is rich and
fertile--much like the plains of Siberia or the prairies of Kansas and
Nebraska.
Such is the eastern Gobi from June to mid-September. In the winter,
when the dried vegetation exposes the surface soil, the whole aspect of
the country is changed and then it does resemble the popular conception
of a desert. But what could be more desertlike than our north China
landscape when frost has stripped away the green clothing of its hills
and fields?
The Chinese have already demonstrated the agricultural possibilities in
the south and every year they reap a splendid harvest of oats, wheat,
millet, buckwheat and potatoes. On the grass-covered meadowlands, both
north and south of the Gobi, there are vast herds of sheep, goats,
cattle and horses, but they are only a fraction of the numbers which
the pasturage could support. The cattle and sheep which are exported
through China can be sent to Kalgan "on the hoof," for since grass is
plentiful, the animals can graze at night and travel during the day.
This very materially reduces the cost of transportation.
Besides the great quantities of beef and mutton which could be raised
and marketed in the Orient, America or Europe, thousands of pounds of
wool and camel hair could be exported. Of course both of these articles
are produced at the present time, but only in limited quantities. In
the region where we spent the summer, the Mongols sometimes do not
shear their sheep or camels but gather the wool from the ground when it
has dropped off in the natural process of shedding. Probably half of
it is lost, and the remainder is full of dirt and grass which detracts
greatly from its value. Moreover, when it is shipped the impurities
add at least twenty per cent to its weight, and the high cost of
transportation makes this an important factor. Indeed, under proper
development the pastoral resources of Mongolia are almost unlimited.
The Turin-Urga region has another commercial asset in the enormous
colonies of marmots which inhabit the country for hundreds of miles to
the north, east and west. The marmots are prolific breeders--each pair
annually producing six or eight young--and, although their fur is not
especially fine, it has always been valuable for coats. Several million
marmot pelts are shipped every year from Mongolia, the finest coming
from Uliassutai in the west, and were American steel traps introduced
the number could be doubled.
Urga is just being discovered as a fur market. Many skins which have
been taken well across the Russian frontier are sold in Urga, and
as the trade increases it will command a still wider area. Wolves,
foxes, lynx, bear, wildcats, sables, martens, squirrels and marmots
are brought in by thousands; and great quantities of sheep, goat, cow
and antelope hides are sent annually to Kalgan. Several foreign fur
houses of considerable importance already have their representatives in
Urga and more are coming every year. The possibilities for development
in this direction are almost boundless, and I believe that within a
very few years Urga will become one of the greatest fur markets of the
Orient.
As in the south the Chinese farmer cultivates the grasslands of the
Mongols, so in the north the Chinese merchant has assumed the trade.
Many firms in Peking and Tientsin have branches in Urga and make
huge profits in the sale of food, cloth and other essentials to the
Mongols and foreigners and in the export of furs, skins and wool. It
is well-nigh impossible to touch business in Mongolia at any point
without coming in contact with the Chinese.
All work not connected with animals is assumed by Chinese, for the
Mongols are almost useless for anything which cannot be done from
the back of a horse. Thus the Chinese have a practical monopoly and
they exercise all their prerogatives in the enormous prices which
they charge for the slightest service. Mongols and foreigners suffer
together in this respect, but there is no alternative--the Chinaman can
charge what he pleases, for he knows full well that no one else will do
the work.
Although there is considerable mineral wealth in northern Mongolia, up
to the present time very little prospecting has been done. For several
years a Russian company has carried on successful operations for gold
at the Yero mines, between Urga and Kiakhta on the Siberian frontier,
but they have had to import practically all their labor from China. We
often passed Chinese in the Gobi Desert walking across Mongolia pushing
a wheelbarrow which contained all their earthly belongings. They were
on their way to the Yero mines for the summer's work; in the fall they
would return on foot the way they had come. Now that Mongolia is once
more a part of the Chinese Republic, the labor problem probably will
be improved for there will certainly be an influx of Chinese who are
anxious to work.
Transportation is the greatest of all commercial factors in the
Orient and upon it largely depends the development of any country. In
Mongolia the problem can be easily solved. At the present time it
rests upon camel caravans, ox and pony carts and upon automobiles for
passengers. Camel traffic begins in September and is virtually ended
by the first of June. Then their places on the trail are taken by ox-
and pony-carts. Camels make the journey from Kalgan to Urga in from
thirty to fifty days, but the carts require twice as long. They travel
slowly, at best, and the animals must be given time to graze and rest.
Of course, they cannot cross the desert when the grass is dry, so that
transportation is divided by the season--camels in winter and carts in
summer. Each camel carries from four hundred and fifty to five hundred
pounds, and the charges for the journey from Kalgan to Urga vary with
conditions at from five to fifteen cents (silver) per _cattie_ (one and
one-third pounds). Thus, by the time goods have reached Urga, their
value has increased tremendously.
I can see no reason why motor trucks could not make the trip and am
intending to use them on my next expedition. Between Panj-kiang and
Turin, the first and third telegraph stations, there is some bad going
in spots, but a well made truck with a broad wheel base and a powerful
engine certainly could negotiate the sand areas without difficulty.
After Turin, where the Gobi may be said to end, the road is like a
boulevard.
The motor service for passengers which the Chinese Government maintains
between Kalgan and Urga is a branch of the Peking-Suiyuan Railway and
has proved successful after some initial difficulties due to careless
and inexperienced chauffeurs. Although the service badly needs
organization to make it entirely safe and comfortable, still it has
been effective even in its crude form.
At the present time a great part of the business which is done with
the Mongols is by barter. The Chinese merchants extend credit to the
natives for material which they require and accept in return cattle,
horses, hides, wool, etc., to be paid at the proper season. In recent
years Russian paper _rubles_ and Chinese silver have been the currency
of the country, but since the war Russian money has so depreciated
that it is now practically valueless. Mongolia greatly needs banking
facilities and under the new political conditions undoubtedly these
will be materially increased.
A great source of wealth to Mongolia lies in her magnificent forests of
pine, spruce, larch and birch which stretch away in an almost unbroken
line of green to far beyond the Siberian frontier. As yet but small
inroads have been made upon these forests, and as I stood one afternoon
upon the summit of a mountain gazing over the miles of timbered hills
below me, it seemed as though here at least was an inexhaustible supply
of splendid lumber. But no more pernicious term was ever coined than
"inexhaustible supply!" I wondered, as I watched the sun drop into
the somber masses of the forest, how long these splendid hills would
remain inviolate. Certainly not many years after the Gobi Desert has
been crossed by lines of steel, and railroad sheds have replaced the
gold-roofed temples of sacred Urga.
We are at the very beginning of the days of flying, and no land which
contains such magnificent spruce can keep its treasure boxes unspoiled
for very long. Even as I write, aëroplanes are waiting in Peking to
make their first flight across Mongolia. The desert nomads have not yet
ceased to wonder at the motor cars which cover as many miles of plain
in one day as their camels cross in ten. But what _will_ they think
when twenty men leave Kalgan at noon and dine in Urga at seven o'clock
that night! Seven hundred miles mean very little to us now! The start
has been made already and, after all, it is largely that which counts.
The automobile has come to stay, we know; and motor trucks will soon
do for freight what has already been done for passengers, not only
from Kalgan to Urga, but west to Uliassutai, and on to Kobdo at the
very edge of the Altai Mountains. Few spots in Mongolia need remain
untouched, if commercial calls are strong enough.
Last year the first caravans left Feng-chen with wireless equipment for
the eighteen hundred mile journey across Mongolia to Urumchi in the
very heart of central Asia. Construction at Urga is well advanced and
it will soon begin at Kashgar. When these stations are completed Kobdo
in Mongolia, Hami in Chinese Turkestan, and Sian-fu in Shensi will
see wireless shafts erected; and old Peking will be in touch with the
remotest spots of her far-flung lands at any time by day or night.
These things are not idle dreams--they are hard business facts already
in the first stages of accomplishment. Why, then, should the railroad
be long delayed? It may be built from Kalgan to Urga, or by way
of Kwei-hua-cheng--either route is feasible. It will mean a direct
connection between Shanghai, China's greatest port, and Verkhin Udinsk
on the Trans-Siberian Railroad via Tientsin, Peking, Kalgan, Urga,
Kiakhta. It will shorten the trip to London by at least four days for
passengers and freight. It will open for settlement and commercial
development a country of boundless possibilities and unknown wealth
which for centuries has been all but forgotten.
Less than seven hundred years ago Mongolia well-nigh ruled the world.
Her people were strong beyond belief, but her empire crumbled as
quickly as it rose, leaving to posterity only a glorious tradition
and a land of mystery. The tradition will endure for centuries; but
the motor car and aëroplane and wireless have dispelled the mystery
forever.