Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan/Series 1/Volume 2/A Journey in North-East Japan
A JOURNEY IN NORTH-EAST JAPAN.
BY
Captain BLAKISTON, late R. A.
Read before the Asiatic Society of Japan,
on the 17th June, 1874.
——o——
Some months have elapsed since the wreck of the P. M. S. S. Ariel, on a reef off Toyoma Point on the East coast of Japan in Latitude 37° N., was the cause of the journey here recorded. When Captain Newell and myself slid down a rope from the fore chains, the vessel had sunk so far aft that the water was on the upper deck forward of the paddle boxes, and the whole after hurricane deck was submerged. Fortunately there was little swell, so that all the boats in the darkness of the night reached the shore, and chanced to strike parts of the beach between the reefs. The head-man of the little village of Toyoma whom I found with the assistance of a fisherman and his paper lantern, made arrangements for the accommodation of the eighty-four shipwrecked people, and the villagers were all extremely civil.
Next morning all that was visible of the unfortunate Ariel was one of her mast-heads. So, after a breakfast of beef and ship-biscuit, I hired a man to carry a small leather bag, which my next cabin neighbour had luckily saved for me, and started on foot for Taira, the chief town of Iwasaki ken or district, to which a fair path of about three ri (712 miles) in a general W.N.W. direction, leads through small valleys and over some low hills.
The town lies in a plain of some extent; in fact, the name Taira signifies “a plain.” It is surrounded on most sides by hills, which towards the North-west and West rise into mountains of considerable elevation. The plain is entirely under rice cultivation, and crossed only by the common narrow paths of the settled districts of the country. The ruins—as I took them to be—of the former daimio’s castle, stand on a hill just over the town.
Proceeding direct to the Government office, a temporary looking building occupied by a number of officials sitting at desks, I was at once introduced to the chief. He received me civilly, inquired about the particulars of the wreck, and promised to have quarters prepared for all the people, and forward them on their way to Yedo, being the nearest foreign settlement, distance 5612 ri (138 miles English). When I told him, however, that, being a resident of Hakodate, I requested a passport for the purpose of proceeding thence overland, he demurred and sought to convince me that my proper course was to return to Yokohama. I therefore left him and put up at a native hotel where I ordered a horse, purchased a blanket, a Japanese pipe and tobaccco, and was nearly ready to start when Captain Newell and the rest of the people arrived. As the ship’s interpreter had not yet come on, I assisted in getting them billeted.
About half-past two an officer came to inform me that the idea of my travelling North—was, as he expressed it, “mudzkashi”; a word difficult of complete expression in English, but in this case meaning that the chief official would not give his permission. My mind was however made up, and I therefore informed him that being ready to start I should not wait even half an hour for the passport, but proceed without one. He seemed in great tribulation and went back to the government office.
I then told the man with the horse, who had already packed my scanty shew of baggage, to proceed on the northern road, and after a few minutes, I followed on foot. Outside the town I mounted on the pack saddle, and, with the horse led by coolie,—which is invariably done in this part of Japan—I commenced my journey in earnest.
This road is known as the Hama-kaido or coast-highway in distinction from the Naka-kaido or inland post-road; both of which start from Yedo and running northwards, converge again at Sendai, one hundred ri from the Nipon Bashi or great bridge of Yedo. It partakes of the character of the To-kaido—so familiar to residents and tourists in Japan, and so often described—the general principle being a roadway from twenty to forty feet in width, lined by pine trees closely planted on either side, forming an avenue. Occasional intervals occur where trees are wanting, which may be accounted for in some parts by the moisture of the subsoil being unfavourable to the growth of coniferæ, in others by want of superintendence. These intervals are in some places filled with willows and alders. A thousand scenes of the most picturesque groups of pines, rising in straight or inclined turtle-backed stems, and branching out above in all sorts of variations of curves and twists, roofed with a dense mass of the brightest dark green foliage, might be selected, and be a study for an artist’s lifetime. The Japanese have not failed in their artistic works, to secure this feature so familiar to their own eyes, and have stamped the pine tree, one might say, as one of their natural emblems. It is to be hoped that the unsparing and barbarous hand of an impoverished government will not be laid on the pine trees skirting the old highways of the country, and that this great feature in the scenery of Japan will not be civilised off the face of the earth. As a protection against the rays of the sun, and some mitigation of the piercing blasts of winter winds, they are of utility. Besides, they thrive best on the driest soil, and in distinction from other trees do not seem to add to the dampness of the ground; so that there is no reason why the very best road should not exist between rows of these trees. After the almost bloodless revolution which changed Japan from a feudal to a monarchical government, it should be the study of those in power to retain at least some of the time honoured features of a state which has passed away.
From Taira the road takes a northerly direction, but trending a little East, and before leaving the plain crosses a considerable sized river known as Natsi-kawa, flowing eastward, probably the principal drain of this basin. After this there is another deep, but smaller stream called Nidawa, some distance beyond which the road strikes the sea coast on the village of Yotsukawa, distant three ri from Taira. Here I dismissed my horse and guide, and putting my baggage on a pack horse led by a woman who was returning from market, continued on foot over some moderate hills of white sandstone, and along the sea beach for another ri, reaching the village of Sta-no-hama just before dark, where I was pretty decently lodged, and ordered horses to be ready at an early hour next day.
When I awoke in the morning I was hardly surprised to find the next room to mine occupied by two yakunins, who had come post haste during the night to overtake me. We made acquaintance by the usual morning salutation, after which Mr. Itou, for so the chief was named, asked me if I had a travelling permit, which I quietly answered in the negative. Nor did I appear interested about the matter, for I suspected they had been sent to get me to Taira, and abandon my projected northern journey. He then produced a Japanese document which was unintelligible to me, and said that if I was going on, he had been deputed by the chief official at Taira to accompany me. I notified him that such was my determination, and that I trusted we should travel agreeably together. We then became the best of friends, and after we had had breakfast, the horses making their appearance, we then set off together.
A general northerly direction carried us partly inland, and sometimes along the shore under clay-rock cliffs nearly pure white. The streams we crossed contained some granite stones, indicating the probability that a range of mountains running parallel to the coast, and about 10 to 15 miles distant, was of primitive foundation. These mountains were not so much wooded as the lower hills. I observed also some coarse sandstone and conglomerate. The rollers coming in on the beach were very heavy, and forced us in one place to make a considerable detour inland instead of following the usual route along the sea beach. A good deal of the country was wild, but the valleys were cultivated with rice, cotton, tea, and beans; the farmers having good substantial houses and appearing well to do. Pine trees skirted a great part of the regular road.
At three ri we changed horses at the village of Shirono. Thence one ri over a broken country, for a large part pine-wooded, the road being in places cut through the clay rock with gutters on either side, to a small place called Kido. On the beach are sheds in which sea water is evaporated for its salt; a wooden spout running out on the beach to high water mark, into which the water is baled by hand, All about Taira and throughout this part of the country. the nature of the rock admitting of easy excavation, one notices numerous caves which the farming people use as storehouses; some of them having regular doors and locks. These are said, with what truth is uncertain, to have been used as habitations by the aborigines of this part of Japan.
Soon after leaving Kido we found a rapid running good-sized river, having a wier set near the crossing place for catching salmon. Thence over an uncultivated country, partly broken and hilly, and partly in plateaux, the ground being covered with green fern and brush, and sparely wooded with pine. The road is about a mile or so back from the coast. At three ri it reached Tomioka, situated in a valley. Again we got fresh horses and made 312 ri more over much the same kind of country, but more wooded and very little cultivated to Sinzan; passing on the way a village called Kuwa-no-kawa in a tolerably open valley where a good deal of mulberry is cultivated, and a rapid river runs towards the sea. I noticed that the mulberry shrubs were all pollards, and at that time of the year the branches were tied up in a bunch, the intervening ground being used for cereal and other crops. Rice was under process of being cut. From Sinzan we took on the same horses another stage of one and a half ri, passing a considerable valley and several villages; then over a pine covered ridge, descending from which into a fine valley we crossed a rapid river on its south side, where the bridge had been lately washed away, and took up our quarters for the night at the town of Namiye.
On the north side of this valley we crossed on the following morning by bridge another rapid river of considerable size. We then ascended the uplands by a good road through the finest avenue of pine trees I had yet seen. Onwards over a good deal of broken and wild ground, but wherever there happened to be a valley it was cultivated. When about a mile and a half from the sea I noticed a lagoon about half a mile long separated from the sea by a low neck or spit partly wooded. Passing over more broken country of which the hills ran mostly parallel to one course, that is North and South, we came to Odaka, 212 ri. Forward we traversed much the same kind of country another 212 ri to the town of Hara-no-machi, which lies in a fine plain, the south part of which is entirely clear and open and kept for horse grazing; having the appearance of a common or military exercising ground for which it would be well adapted.
Throughout this part of the country there are many tanks formed by embankments creating dams across the heads of the narrow valleys and ravines, which are furnished with sluices for distributing water to the rice fields in the lower part of valleys. The highway or kaido, often crosses the upper valleys on these embankments, which are strong and substantial. The larger valleys are frequently double as it were; that is to say, a river on either side, and a village and much cultivated land in the middle. Invariably there is a small stream led down the principal street of the village, used for household purposes. I do not consider that these double valleys are natural, but imagine that the tributary streams which make up a river, have been artificially confined and led down the sides of the valley; so that what might have been in former ages an extensive river bottom with large shingle and sand flat, and many waste patches subject to periodical floods and changes of the bed of the river, is now, by these artificial means, rendered valuable agricultural land.
Two ri more brought us to Kasima where we halted for dinner. Thence we travelled 3 ri to Nakamura, the capital of the former daimiate of Soma, a place containing a good many streets, but of poor appearance. It stands in a cultivated plain extending from the sea to the mountains, say 5 to 8 miles. Having a good many trees about it, it does not appear anything of a place from outside. There is a lagoon on the coast not far south of Nakamura, and one or two to the northward. Towards evening we passed out of Iwasaki Ken near a small place called Komanaminae, two and a half ri northward of Nakamura, where we put up for the night within the limits of the province of Miangi Ken, in rather poor quarters.
On the 31st of October being our fourth day, we made a start before daylight making one ri over a rolling country and changed horses. I walked on foot the next stage of two ri, where we have to change again. The headland of Kinkasan, the eastern extremity of Sendai Bay was visible bearing about E.N.E. The next stage was five ri, the road keeping along the foot of some hills on our left hand and passing through a good village called Yamasta. The whole extent of country between the road and the sea is a low lying dead level fiat, entirely rice-cultivated. On the upper grounds I noticed in the gardens, mulberry, beans, tobacco, daikuns, cotton, turnips, buckwheat, and the paper-shrub. The country people seemed poor, and the houses dilapidated. I saw a good many cattle, and many houses kept numbers of tame ducks.
We passed through a long town called Watari, and thence continued on the same plain, which extends more to the East. It is entirely rice covered, but has clumps of trees about the scattered farm houses. The hills to the west become gradually lower. At two ri beyond Watari, we struck the river Abukumangawa, which seems to come out of a deep valley cut through the lower hills and a mass of mountains to the westward, having about an east course. It is at least 250 yards across where we were ferried over, but mostly shallow, there being about ten feet close to the landing place on the left bank. We had some difficulty in crossing, as there was a gale of wind blowing which made the flat-bottomed scow somewhat unmanageable. It has fine solid embankments on either hand, some distance back from its actual banks, in order to allow for a considerable overflow during flood. On the north side the embankment is lined with fine pine and cedar trees.
Half a ri on the north bank of the Abukumangawa is the town of Iwanoma, which from the number of hotels and eating houses seems to be a favourite stopping place for travellers. It is here that the Naka-kaido and the Hama-kaido unite, and thence only one road goes northward to the town of Sendai distant five ri, and continues on through the old provinces of Sendai and Nambu; which is the way all travellers take from Yedo to Awomori and Hakodadi, and before the introduction of steamers was much used. That portion of the Kaido between Nakamura and the Abukuniangawr is a poor and badly kept road, nothing in comparison to the fine road south of that place, on most part of which, if the bridges were only practicable one might drive a carriage and pair. This is probably to be accounted for by the fact of the Naka-kaido or inland highway having been invariably used by the Northern daimios; while Soma being the norther most daimio on the coast road had no object in keeping up his communication to the North of his capital, but only troubled himself to look after the road he used in his annual state pilgrimages to Yedo.
Hiring jin-rik-shas at Iwanoma we traversed the distance of five ri over a line of well cultivated country, crossing two considerable rivers on the way, and reached the important town of Sendai after dark. We were detained some time in heavy rain awaiting the selection of an hotel, but were ultimately provided with excellent accommodation.
Sendai, distant one hundred ri from Yedo, is at present the chief town of Miangi Ken. It was formerly the residence of the daimio. It is a large place, in fact from the imperfect way I was enabled to judge in the dark, I should take it to be of greater extent than any town I have been in in Japan, save Yedo and Osaka, though the population is stated at only 21,000. I noticed several good stores principally devoted to the sale of foreign imported goods. There are many bird fanciers’ shops.
I was informed that the nearest part of the coast lay at a distance of three ri: that Sabusawa—which is on an island, but is the nearest available port—is seven ri. Rice in large quantities is shipped hence to Yedo, being the bulk of the produce of the country. Hemp is largely grown, Sendai being renowned for its fishing nets. Silk, tobacco, and many of the other ordinary products of Japan are produced, so that whichever of the ports of Sabusawa, Ishibama, or Ishinomaki in Sendai Bay shall be opened to foreign trade, will without doubt become an important place. Doubtless a short line of railway or tramway will be required to connect the port with the producing districts. Indeed, such feeders for ports will become necessary in many parts of Japan, for being a mountainous country, the building of trunk lines would be ruinously expensive, and the sooner such ideas are given up by the government the better. It may answer the interests of certain persons to advocate such schemes, and may please the vanity of some of the rulers of the country, while suiting the pockets of those connected with such undertakings; but what real business would accrue from the enormous outlay is another question.
On the 1st November we made a late start—as is unavoidable at a town—making three short stages North-East and North, stopping for dinner at a large village called Yoshioka, distant 512 ri. The rain during the night had fallen as snow on the mountains. At the outskirts of Sendai we passed through a collection of potteries, where are manufactured the coarser kinds of jars and pans. The Kaido—hardly deserving that name—runs for a great part over a broken country, the uplands of which are mostly scrub-covered, with pine trees dotted about. The narrow and confined valleys are rice cultivated. The villages are poor. The country, however, improves on approaching Yoshioka, which is situated in a valley having a small river running through it. A fine mass of mountains lies away to the westward having some detatched pyramids standing out into the lower country. From an elevated position on the road I could trace these mountains stretching onwards as far as a north bearing, while some distant highland is visible about east, but the country between these points of the compass was clear of mountains. In fact, I presume it is the valley of the Kita-kami to be afterwards mentioned.
From Yoshioka the road passes three ri over a rough scrub-wooded country, having a few pine trees scattered about. The form of the hills, which are nowhere of any height, has all the appearance of a confused sea, there being no prominent elevations, while the crests of all the ridges and mounds are about on a level. The road follows mostly the crest of these ridges, and its tortuous course may be traced by the lines of pine trees skirting it. Suddenly coming to the northern edge of these rugged uplands, we overlooked a great plain, stretching away north as far as we could see, but bounded on the north-west and west by distant mountains. From the latter direction a large river called Narusi kawa skirts the foot of the highlands, flowing eastward. Where the bridge crosses it in entering the village it is from 100 to 150 yards wide, but owing to its being in flood, I could not judge of the depth. I saw, however, large sized cargo boats on it. I was informed that it discharged into the sea at Nobiru, and from what I can make out from an inferior Japanese map, its mouth is a little west of that of the Kita-kami.
Sampongi is a large village on the north bank of this river. The whole valley at least fifteen miles in width is alluvial soil and planted with rice. There are clumps of trees about the homesteads. A little over one ri further north we came to Furukawa, another good sized village, from which an outlying double-topped mountain bears about west. We took up our quarters in a comfortable inn for the night.
Salmon were at that season running up the rivers of this district, being valued at about 50 cents each. We met many droves of cattle and horses on their way from Nambu to Yedo.
In the morning a direct course North by East part of which we travelled before daylight, along the high road—here lined by willows and alders—crossing a river about 60 to 80 yards wide called E-kawa, to a small village where we changed horses. In this interval of one and a half ri, we passed the boundary of Miangi Ken and entered the province or country of Midzusawa. Thence ascended uplands and a rolling country; the road about 24 feet wide running over low scrub wooded hills between lines of pine trees, the valleys only being cultivated. Changed horses again at 112 ri, and then 212 ri more brought us to a well-to-do looking village called Sikitatae. A branch road to Shonai on the west coast of Nipon branches off somewhere hereabout. The distance is reckoned at four days travelling to Sakata, the former capital of that daimiate.
From Sikitatae we crossed the valley in which it stands, through which runs a good sized river called O-kawa, probably a branch of the Kita-kami. This very pretty valley widens out from the mountains some ten or fifteen miles distant. The road passes through another large village on the north side of the valley, then over scrub-covered rolling uplands, and at 212 ri reaches a poor village called Sawabi. The season was now so far advanced that the rice crops were for a great part cut, but still not yet carried off the paddy fields. There having been some frosty nights the leaves were beginning to fall, the autumnal colours of which appeared exceedingly brilliant when contrasted with the dark green cedars and pines. The prevailing fruit throughout this region is the persimmon, but as you proceed north they are not of large size. The people seem to take less care of their horses than in the south, and this negligence increases as you get into Nambu.
After dinner we made four and a half ri to Ichinosiki, in which distance we passed a good many rough brush-covered hills, higher and with steeper slopes than hitherto. Rice is cultivated wherever possible. Ichinosiki lies in a fine valley, and is a pretty fine town, having been the capital of a small daimio called Tamura, a cadet of the house of Sendai. It is said to be one day’s travel from the sea. The capital of the province, from what I could understand, is Midzusawa, on the coast. The Sendai peculiarity of dialects prevails here, the word used for “yes” being “Nae.” In Nambu this is changed into “Ha,” pronounced very broad.
At Ichinosiki the road strikes the valley of the Kita-kami river, and thence follows up that valley to and beyond Morioka, the capital of the former province of Nambu, where the river takes its rise. Its general course is due South, through a beautiful fertile valley. It seems to break through a mountain mass near Ichinosiki. Its lower course I am unacquainted with, but it discharges into the sea at a place called Ishinomaki in Sendai bay, eleven ri from the town of Sendai. The situation of a staff light at its mouth, is given in a late notification of the Lighthouse Department, as Latitude 38° 26′ and Longitude 141° 15′. This river must consequently have a direct course of about 100 geographical or nautical miles. It has numerous and considerable tributaries and drains a large extent of country, the produce of which is very considerable and for the transport of which the river furnishes ready means. Between this great valley and the Pacific coast, where are the harbours of Miako, Yamada (Nambu), Tanohama, Kamaisze, and others, lies a rugged mountainous country crossed only by inferior mountain roads. In fact this valley is entirely cut off from the coast, so that although these harbours are the best on the whole East coast of Japan, they can never become available for more than quite local trade. The produce of the interior must find its way to the coast by the Kita-kami valley and river, an additional reason why a port opened in the bay of Sendai before advocated, would be of the greatest importance. And it would be wise on the part of the Government to institute detailed surveys of the ports in Sendai bay, with a view to the selection and improvement of the most suitable for an increasing trade. There is probably no port in Japan where a larger export of the more bulky production of the country would be drawn directly from the interior.
The 3rd of November was a very rough cold day with frequent squalls of rain and sleet. We started early from Ichinosiki, crossed at once a large tributary of the Kitakami, and thence followed up the road on the Western side of the main valley. A fine mountain group lies North-east of Ichinosiki, which has the appearance of a detatched mass, but is really the commencement of a range of mountains on the East side of the river. Its slopes are very picturesque. The valley is well cultivated with rice, wheat, beans, and hemp, the last being made into twine used for fishing nets, the manufacture of which seems to employ a large part of the population.
Passing sometimes over spurs of the uplands the road continues up the western side of the valley, and reaches Miozusawa at 634 ri. After dinner we made a straight course up the valley, coming at two ri by boat to another good-sized tributary emerging from the mountains to the West. At the next station we could see no horses to go forward, and therefore employed a couple of coolies who easily carried all the baggage belonging to the three of us. The road rises on some well-wooded uplands, from whence a fine view of the river and its valley is obtained. This view, with a background of wooded mountains having these lower slopes cultivated in patches, I enjoyed from a house situated just where the road descends again into the valley bottom. The landlord was very communicative, and informed me that the boats navigating the Kita-kami could carry 150 to 200 koku, say 400 to 500 piculs, as far up at Kurosawa, and 50 koku, say 125 piculs, even up to Morioka. Thus from Kurosawa the passage to the sea occupied two days, and against the current with a fair wind four or five upwards. The current is strong, and some of the rapids very shoal.
Continuing on we followed the road in the well-cultivated river bottom passing through a small village where there are earthen banks thrown up to mark the boundary of the old province of Nambu. Posts now show that this is likewise the limit of Minzusawa Ken on the South and Iwate Ken on the North. Just beyond this is a rapid river, which being then in flood, we only crossed with considerable difficulty in a narrow boat poled by four men. It was by this time nearly dark, but a short distance more brought us to Kurosawa where we were comfortably lodged in a good large house. My Japanese companions seemed to think they were getting near the end of the world, the people and country being more uncivilized than anything they had been accustomed to. It was with difficulty that they made themselves understood to many of the people, and it was amusing to hear their remarks on these northern savages, as they designated them. On the contrary I felt more at home as I proceeded, and found my imperfect knowledge of the mixed dialects of Hakodadi more and more useful.
On the 4th we made the whole distance of thirteen ri from Kurosawa to Morioka, the old capital of Nambu, and now the chief town of Iwate Ken. Some of the first parts of the road was over uplands, but the greater distance on the level plain of the river valley. The land is well cultivated with rice, wheat, beans, &c., and I particularly noticed some large, long carrots. I have seldom seen a finer and better watered valley. The scenery also is very pleasing, and at that particular season, when the autumnal tints of the hardwoods on the lower slopes of the mountains were intermixed with the bright green of the pines, and the mountain tops snow-covered, it was remarkably beautiful.
Several tributary streams coming from the westward join the main river in this part, the most important one being three ri six chô north of Kurosawa. The town of Koriyama stands partly on a hill which rises in the middle of the valley and abuts on the river. From thence the pine mountain known as Nambu-fuzi is constantly in sight for the four ri to Morioka, from which it stands in a Northwest direction. I was fortunate enough to be able this day to hire a jinriksha, with which by the aid of occasional walks to keep myself warm, two stout coolies managed very well to get me over the latter twenty-five miles of the road. A large new wooden bridge—lately substituted for a bridge of boats—spans the Kita-kami at Morioka, which is situated on the left bank. A tributary stream meets the main river in the town; it comes from the Eastward, and up its valley runs a road to Miako on the East coast.
Morioka, though large, is a poor looking place. It is said to contain three thousand houses, and 13,000 inhabitants. It is favourably situated, and in a beautiful country. The surrounding hills are cultivated for a considerable distance up their sides. We were lodged at the Honjin or Government hotel.
Leaving Morioka in the morning, we travelled the whole day up the left bank of the Kita-kami, climbing in the first part some rather steep hills, which abut upon the river. We halted at a small place called Shibutan for dinner, right abreast of Nambu-fuzi, from which point I was enabled to make a sketch of this fine mountain. Its conical form is tolerably perfect. The lip of the crater is very clearly visible. There is little or no wood except quite near the base, where the sides emerge into gently sloping grass plains, which form a beautiful middle ground in the picture. I should roughly estimate this volcano at over five thousand feet above its base, which would make it about 7,000 feet over the sea level. Its detached position gives it a very commanding aspect, so much so that next to Fuziyama I think it the finest mountain I have seen in Japan.
The valley of the Kita-kami becomes much more confined above Morioka, and the river itself loses the character of a navigable stream. Its still considerable volume is more or less obstructed by rocks and boulders, and it is confined to a narrow bed. In appearance it is the perfection of a fly fisher’s river, but I understood the people to tell me that few or no salmon ascend these upper waters. Its course is pretty direct, and it has numerous small feeders. Before reaching Numakunai what is really its largest branch is crossed coming from the eastward, but the Japanese consider the direct North branch the main river, and so venerate it as the Northern God or Kami. As near as possible to its source they have erected a temple called Mioo-o-kanon, which one passes on the road four or five miles above Numakunai. There are some large cedar trees alongside this temple, but the building seems to be kept in but poor repair. As to the name of this river, the character by which it is now represented in Japanese means, I am informed, “Northern Source,” but a Japanese friend of mine has discovered that it was not so written in former times, but then represented “Northern God.” Discussions so frequently arise on such points that I have thought it proper to give the authority on which I base the more poetic translation of Kita-kami. Why it should have been considered as a god is, I think, not difficult of explanation, from the fact that in ancient times when the Ainos—now restricted to Yezo and its outlying islands—were in undisturbed possession of this part of the country, they probably venerated it as the source of their principal sustenance, fish; while later the Japanese being dependent on its waters for irrigating their rice fields, and us a highway of transport, would naturally adopt such a superstition. For, as I have said before, this river has a direct course from North to South of at least one hundred geographical miles, exclusive of its windings, along which whole distance its banks are thickly settled by an industrious population. It is probable however that the Japanese gradually invaded and settled this valley from the Southward, and its source was probably for generations unknown to them. Seeing such a constant stream of water coming from where they could not tell, it was but natural in a country like Japan, where rivers of large volume are exceptional, that they should venerate this fertilizing source.
The distance between Morioka and Numakunai is 823 ri; the first part of which after bad weather, such as when I passed, is rather bad travelling, added to the discomfort of which I was unfortunate enough on both stages we made to be accommodated with unusually small and uncomfortable pack saddles. I remarked that in distinction from South of Morioka, the pack horses we met were not bitted, but had simply rope halters; and instead of one man leading each horse, they were allowed to pick their own way, one driver looking after several. The horses, too, were lower and not so leggy as the Sendai animals. When the ground is likely to be pretty soft, the straw shoes which are generally used as protection to the horses feet, were neglected. Men’s straw sandals are cheap enough throughout this country, being usually eight tenths of a cent to one cent per pair.
The valley is more or less cultivated all the way along. As you approach Numakunai (823 ri from Morioka) the hills become moderate, and are mostly bare of wood. This village may be said to be the last in the valley, there being above only a few houses. The name is Aino, or rather said to have been slightly changed from Numakumai. Before reaching this I had not noticed any Aino names, but many places to the southward in Nambu are so named. It is probable that the aborigines held the country which drains towards the North and East until a comparatively recent date. I have since learned that near the main road South of Morioka and between that and Koriyama, there is a mound in existence, where it is said by Japanese that about twelve hundred years ago Tamura Shôgun, the reigning Mikado’s General—and by some said to be his son—heaped up the bodies of all the Ainos killed by his troops in a great battle. The explanation of the name Yezo Mori supports this tradition, “Yezo” meaning Aino, and in the Aino language “Mori” signifying a mound.
There is a feature in the upper part of the valley of the Kita-kami which cannot well be passed unobserved. It is also to be seen in many river valleys on a larger or smaller scale, but is most noticeable in mountainous countries, where the courses of rivers are short and steep. I refer to river terraces, those comparatively horizontal steps which are sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, and occasionally on both, and which form a series of terraces ascending the valley; frequently varying as to difference of level, but often remarkably regular in their gradations. Many persons are under the impression that these terraces are the remains of former sea beaches; that to have formed them the sea must have covered whole continents, and reached near the tops of high mountains; that the land has either risen out of the sea, or that the sea has receded. It is difficult however to accept such explanation. For, if it were the rising of the land, it must be assumed that the land has invariably been elevated evenly, and not on an incline; which is against all modern observations. Neither can they be accounted for on the supposition of depression of the sea, for to form terraces in such marked and regular gradation, sudden depressions and stages of rest should have occurred, which would be difficult to imagine. In the Rocky Mountains these terraces are seen in the river valleys running into the mountains from the prairies at an elevation of four thousand feet above the sea-level, and thence upwards they are remarkable. Similar features occur in many parts of the world, and in Japan they exist in many localities. Now as Japan is a volcanic country and has doubtless been subject to many and frequent changes of features in what are called geological epochs, upheaval and depression by such means are unlikely to have been even, but the chances are in favour of the new form of the surface being more or less contorted or inclined. Consequently it is natural to infer that these river terraces, which we now observe with little deviation horizontal, have been formed subsequent to any great disturbances of the earth’s crust. Moreover, had the sea formed these beaches and terraces, there would have been numerous marine shells found in them. Instead of which we find them composed of stones, gravel, sand and clay, and of course usually topped with vegetable mould the same as the surrounding country. For the mode of their formation we need not look farther than the nearest muddy gutter after heavy rain, or notice the rills of water streaming off a muddy road after a heavy shower; and compare these features with those on a great scale in the valley of a river. Imagine then the termination of the “Glacial period”—admitted by all modern geologists—and the enormous amounts of water from the melting snow and ice, streaming off the then unclothed mountain sides, ripping great rents in them and the lower lands, and washing down an amount of stones and earthy matter sufficient to form beds of great thickness. And thus as the erosion goes on, so are the beds of the rivers, each season, deepening and leaving remains of their flood plains above. In our times, of course, these formations are going on more slowly and by lesser differences of level, but still the beds of rivers in mountainous districts are, where unobstructed by solid rock, generally deepening, and eating their way more and more into the mountain sides. Consequently they leave remains of their flood plains higher and higher above their beds. But to resume the journey.
On the 6th of November we started half an hour or so before daybreak. There was a full moon with clear frosty air. Following the north branch of the Kita-kami, here only a small brook for about three miles, we passed a fork of the road which branches off on the right hand to Hachinohe. The hills then become more wooded, till having passing the temple Mido-o-kanon at the supposed source of the river, we mounted the actual watershed. This position is by barometrical measurements made by Mr. John Blakiston, who was one of Mr. De Long’s party in 1871, about 2,000 feet above the sea level. On the top is a rolling grass-covered country, with a few deep valleys cut in it. The actual road is often avoided in favour of drier paths and better travelling, there being in bad weather many sloughs of black mud. Soon after passing a hamlet known as Nakai-yama, the road strikes the head of a deep valley with steep sides, down which a strong path leads to another hamlet, five ri from Numakunai, called Kutsunaki. Here we changed horses, and continued for the rest of the day down this valley, sometimes having to mount the sides to clear precipitous banks. A mountain torrent gradually widens into a river, which is that which flows into the sea at Hachinohe on the East coast. At first there are few houses and little cultivation, but both increase as the valley is descended, until it is well cultivated and fully peopled. The road is no more than a bridle path in most places, and, where not rocky, was, when I passed, deep in mud. I noticed a great many lacquer trees. We took dinner at Ichinohe, a large but poor-looking village. The road here crosses from the left to the right bank of the river by a bridge. There are some remarkably pretty cascades and rapids, and the river has the most enticing appearance for an angler. Ichinohe is 812 ri from Numakunai.
From Ichinohe the road passes over a considerable height to avoid a bend in the valley. The country is of sandstone formation. At Fukuoka, another good-sized village, the valley widens out and is well cultivated with beans, awa, some rice and wheat. Thence the road is better to Kinda-ichi, just before which the river is recrossed to the left bank by a pretty good bridge. Kinda-ichi is not much of a place, it is only one ri below Fukuoka, the latter being 134 ri from Ichinohe. The picturesque appearance of the river is increased by the sandstone cliffs, there being some very beautiful scenes.
I staid over night at Kinda-ichi and started early in the morning in a cold thick mist which filled the valley, which the road partly follows towards San-nohe, but in two places it ascends the mountains on the left bank rising to a considerable elevation. The second pass descends at the back of the town to a tributary stream, which comes down a long valley from the westward, a high cedar-covered hill lying between it and the main river. On the right bank of the latter a peaked mountain rises, a very remarkable feature, which may be seen from a long distance north, even from Nohitsze Bay.
At San-nohe, which is a considerable place, we changed horses, and then took the road following the left side of the valley, which runs to Hachinohe, formerly the capital of a small daimiate situated near the sea at the month of the river, 712 ri distant in an easterly direction. One road, however, soon branched off and ascended the mountains to the northward, and thence ran along an elevated wooded ridge, from whence a very extensive view is gained embracing the mountains near Awomori, the whole eastern section of the great gulf known as Awomori Bay, Ando o-yama mountain on its north side, the Yokohama hills, and the narrow neck of low land intervening between the bay to the eastward of Nohitsze and the Pacific Ocean. All the nearer valleys and ridges run eastward. This mountain path descends into a deep valley at Asamioso, there crossing a small tributary of the Nachinohe river. Continuing over more ridges, but not nearly so high, we reached Gonohe in the middle of the day, which is a considerable place for this part of the country, and has a business-like appearance. Goods are transported on pack animals from Hachinohe, distance five ri.
From Gonohe a rolling country but little wooded, with villages in the hollows, is passed over. At Fujusima we were ferried over a river running East. Thence a gradually rising plain extends to Sampongi, a place which has some importance as having been selected as the site of a settlement of former Aiozo officials (lately known as Tonami Han) which the Government has established. In one long street there are ninety small houses built for these settlers, and at or about this place there are altogether 300 of such dwellings. To call them houses suited to the rigorous climate of Northern Japan would be an error; as they are but wretched contract shanties, which have probably allured the contractors and officials to divide a handsome squeeze at the expense of the Government, in the books of which they doubtless figure very large. In fact, as far as I could learn, the Aidzu settlement is something on a par with the doings of the Kaitakushi in Yezo.
In most of the villages of Nambu and Northern Sendai there are stationary ladders erected in the middle of each village as fire outlooks. But I think it was near Gonohe where I noticed one on the top of a hill within sight of the town, which the people informed me had been erected in former times when the inhabitants of the neighbouring province of Tsugaru, and those of Nambu did not live on the best of terms, frequent raids being made by one side into the territory of the other, and vice versâ. A bell was hung on the top of this ladder at the sound of which the whole village was aroused. These former feuds are now nearly forgotten, but still the people of these neighbouring provinces are quite distinct from each other. In physical appearance and hardihood the advantage is on the side of the people of Nambu.
On the 8th of November, I travelled 812 ri from Sampongi viâ Sichinohe to Nohitsze on the shore of Awomori Bay. Very little of this district is under cultivation, it being mostly large stretches of prairies and open rolling country, the roll being heavier as Nohitsze is approached. The season and weather being unfavourable the mire in the hollows was very deep, so much so that our horses could with difficult step from one rut into another, dragging their bellies over the intervening ridges. In dry weather, however, the travelling ought to be remarkably good. The soil is black mould, in most part of considerable thickness, underlying which is a layer of clay, and then volcanic pumice, which in some places, comes neat the surface.
I passed not far from the Yachingashira Farm, where Messrs. Lucy and McKinnon, in company with two Japanese officials, are raising stock and grain. The first named gentleman I was fortunate enough to fall in with that evening at Nohitsze and learned from him the present state and prospect of the establishment. They own some 200 head of cattle: 50 pigs, 8 brood mares, 1 foreign stallion and 4 foreign bulls. Their isolated situation may be imagined when I say that I was the third white man Mr. Lucy had seen for the last two years.
Nohitsze is favourably situated at the southern extremity of the eastern division of the gulf known as Awomori Bay, and from its position will undoubtedly increase in importance as communication is opened out with the interior and the country becomes more peopled. Indeed it should be the port of supply and export for a large district, but the present imperfect means of transport by pack animals tends to throw most of the trade to the very inferior port Hachinohe. There is a fine situation for a town between a portion of the present one and the bay shore.
Though the direct distance from Nohitsze to Awamori is but 15 geographical miles, the road between these two places is forced by a mass of mountains to make a considerable detour, which increases the distance to 11 ri. By sea the distance is still much greater, as a long promontory stretches to the northward forming the two divisions of the gulf. Leaving Nohitsze the road follows the sea shore for a few miles to a cove known as Shiranai. Thence it strikes inland through the town of Ko-minato and crosses the intervening distance westward to Awomori Bay proper, and then turning southerly follows the rocky and picturesque shore to a small place called Nonai, where highlands cease, and a level rice cultivated plain and low shore extend to Awomori.
It being very cold with snow and sleet driven by a N.-West gale, I made the greater part of this my last day on foot. Hitherto I had walked as little as possible except on dry ground, as I had only one pair of thin boots, and had been unable at any place I passed through to purchase any suitable to the rough travelling. My two Japanese companions, unaccustomed to a northern climate, were nearly frozen, and looked most miserable. They did not reach the end of their journey till long after I was comfortably lodged in the house of an old acquaintance in Awomori.
A description of this place is unnecessary ay it has been visited by many foreigners. There I found Mr. George Superintendent of the Telegraph Department, who had lately arrived for the purpose of laying out the route for a line to connect Hakodadi with the south, and Captain Will was likewise there with the steamer Sackai-maru, expecting my arrival, a report of the loss of the Ariel having reached Hakodadi. I need hardly say that I took the advantage of steam next evening for Hakodadi, which is directly 60 sea miles due north of Awomori. The land road from Awomori to Yedo is reckoned at 200 ri.
The actual distance travelled by land on this journey as will be seen by the itinerary attached was 14412 ri equivalent to 35212 English miles; the time taken being 13 days gives an average of 27 miles per diem, which may be put down at a fair rate of travelling with Japanese pack ponies.
Itinerary.
| 1873. | Ri. | |||||||
| October 28. |
|
| ||||||
| October„ | 28.„ |
|
3 | 
| ||||
| October„ | 28.„ |
|
3 |
| ||||
| October„ | 28.„ |
|
1 |
| ||||
| October„ | 29. |
|
3 |
| ||||
| October„ | 29.„ |
|
1 |
| ||||
| October„ | 29.„ |
|
3 |
| ||||
| October„ | 29.„ |
|
| |||||
| October„ | 29.„ |
|
3½ |
| ||||
| October„ | 29.„ |
|
1½ |  |
47 | |||
| October„ | 30. |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| October„ | 30.„ |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| October„ | 30.„ |
|
2 |
| ||||
| October„ | 30.„ |
|
3 |
| ||||
| October„ | 30.„ |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| October„ | 31. |
|
3 |
| ||||
| October„ | 31.„ |
|
5 |
| ||||
| October„ | 31.„ |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| October„ | 31.„ |
|
5 | 
| ||||
| Nov. | 1. |
|
5 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 01.„ |
|
3 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 01.„ |
|
1 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 01.„ |
|
5½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 01.„ |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 01.„ |
|
4½ | |
46¾ | |||
| Nov.„ | 3. |
|
6¾ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 03.„ |
|
5 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 4. |
|
3¼ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 04.„ |
|
4¾ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 04.„ |
|
5 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 5. |
|
4½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 05.„ |
|
4¼ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 6. |
|
3¼ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 06.„ |
|
2 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 06.„ |
|
3 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 06.„ |
|
1¾ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 06.„ |
|
1 |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 7. |
|
3 | |
50¾ | |||
| Nov.„ | 07.„ |
|
3½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 07.„ |
|
1½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 07.„ |
|
2½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 07.„ |
|
1¼ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 8. |
|
2¾ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 08.„ |
|
5½ |
| ||||
| Nov.„ | 9. |
|
11 |
| ||||
|
144½ | Ri. | ||||||