The Grandeur Of The Route Ceased With The Mountain-Passes, But In
The Brilliant Sunshine The Ride From Oshamambe To Mori, Which Took
Me Two Days, Was As Pretty And Pleasant As It Could Be.
At first
we got on very slowly, as besides my four horses there were four
led ones going home,
Which got up fights and entangled their ropes,
and occasionally lay down and rolled; and besides these there were
three foals following their mothers, and if they stayed behind the
mares hung back neighing, and if they frolicked ahead the mares
wanted to look after them, and the whole string showed a combined
inclination to dispense with their riders and join the many herds
of horses which we passed. It was so tedious that, after enduring
it for some time I got Ito's horse and mine into a scow at a river
of some size, and left the disorderly drove to follow at leisure.
At Yurapu, where there is an Aino village of thirty houses, we saw
the last of the aborigines, and the interest of the journey ended.
Strips of hard sand below high-water mark, strips of red roses,
ranges of wooded mountains, rivers deep and shallow, a few villages
of old grey houses amidst grey sand and bleaching driftwood, and
then came the river Yurapu, a broad, deep stream, navigable in a
canoe for fourteen miles. The scenery there was truly beautiful in
the late and splendid afternoon. The long blue waves rolled on
shore, each one crested with light as it curled before it broke,
and hurled its snowy drift for miles along the coast with a deep
booming music. The glorious inland view was composed of six ranges
of forest-covered mountains, broken, chasmed, caverned, and dark
with timber, and above them bald, grey peaks rose against a green
sky of singular purity. I longed to take a boat up the Yurapu,
which penetrates by many a gorge into their solemn recesses, but
had not strength to carry my wish.
After this I exchanged the silence or low musical speech of Aino
guides for the harsh and ceaseless clatter of Japanese. At
Yamakushinoi, a small hamlet on the sea-shore, where I slept, there
was a sweet, quiet yadoya, delightfully situated, with a wooded
cliff at the back, over which a crescent hung out of a pure sky;
and besides, there were the more solid pleasures of fish, eggs, and
black beans. Thus, instead of being starved and finding wretched
accommodation, the week I spent on Volcano Bay has been the best
fed, as it was certainly the most comfortable, week of my travels
in northern Japan.
Another glorious day favoured my ride to Mori, but I was
unfortunate in my horse at each stage, and the Japanese guide was
grumpy and ill-natured - a most unusual thing. Otoshibe and a few
other small villages of grey houses, with "an ancient and fish-like
smell," lie along the coast, busy enough doubtless in the season,
but now looking deserted and decayed, and houses are rather
plentifully sprinkled along many parts of the shore, with a
wonderful profusion of vegetables and flowers about them, raised
from seeds liberally supplied by the Kaitakushi Department from its
Nanai experimental farm and nurseries.
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