LETTER
XXVIII
Torrents
of Rain--An unpleasant Detention--Devastations produced by
Floods--The
Yadate Pass--The Force of Water--Difficulties thicken--
A
Primitive Yadoya--The Water rises.
IKARIGASEKI,
AOMORI KEN, August 2.
The
prophecies concerning difficulties are fulfilled. For six days
and
five nights the rain has never ceased, except for a few hours
at
a time, and for the last thirteen hours, as during the eclipse
at
Shirasawa, it has been falling in such sheets as I have only
seen
for a few minutes at a time on the equator. I have been here
storm-staid
for two days, with damp bed, damp clothes, damp
everything,
and boots, bag, books, are all green with mildew. And
still
the rain falls, and roads, bridges, rice-fields, trees, and
hillsides
are being swept in a common ruin towards the Tsugaru
Strait,
so tantalisingly near; and the simple people are calling on
the
forgotten gods of the rivers and the hills, on the sun and
moon,
and all the host of heaven, to save them from this "plague of
immoderate
rain and waters." For myself, to be able to lie down
all
day is something, and as "the mind, when in a healthy state,
reposes
as quietly before an insurmountable difficulty as before an
ascertained
truth," so, as I cannot get on, I have ceased to chafe,
and
am rather inclined to magnify the advantages of the detention,
a
necessary process, as you would think if you saw my surroundings!
The
day before yesterday, in spite of severe pain, was one of the
most
interesting of my journey. As I learned something of the
force
of fire in Hawaii, I am learning not a little of the force of
water
in Japan. We left Shirasawa at noon, as it looked likely to
clear,
taking two horses and three men. It is beautiful scenery--a
wild
valley, upon which a number of lateral ridges descend,
rendered
strikingly picturesque by the dark pyramidal cryptomeria,
which
are truly the glory of Japan. Five of the fords were deep
and
rapid, and the entrance on them difficult, as the sloping
descents
were all carried away, leaving steep banks, which had to
be
levelled by the mattocks of the mago. Then the fords themselves
were
gone; there were shallows where there had been depths, and
depths
where there had been shallows; new channels were carved, and
great
beds of shingle had been thrown up. Much wreckage lay about.
The
road and its small bridges were all gone, trees torn up by the
roots
or snapped short off by being struck by heavy logs were
heaped
together like barricades, leaves and even bark being in many
cases
stripped completely off; great logs floated down the river in
such
numbers and with such force that we had to wait half an hour
in
one place to secure a safe crossing; hollows were filled with
liquid
mud, boulders of great size were piled into embankments,
causing
perilous alterations in the course of the river; a fertile
valley
had been utterly destroyed, and the men said they could
hardly
find their way.
At
the end of five miles it became impassable for horses, and, with
two
of the mago carrying the baggage, we set off, wading through
water
and climbing along the side of a hill, up to our knees in
soft
wet soil. The hillside and the road were both gone, and there
were
heavy landslips along the whole valley. Happily there was not
much
of this exhausting work, for, just as higher and darker
ranges,
densely wooded with cryptomeria, began to close us in, we
emerged
upon a fine new road, broad enough for a carriage, which,
after
crossing two ravines on fine bridges, plunges into the depths
of
a magnificent forest, and then by a long series of fine zigzags
of
easy gradients ascends the pass of Yadate, on the top of which,
in
a deep sandstone cutting, is a handsome obelisk marking the
boundary
between Akita and Aomori ken. This is a marvellous road
for
Japan, it is so well graded and built up, and logs for
travellers'
rests are placed at convenient distances. Some very
heavy
work in grading and blasting has been done upon it, but there
are
only four miles of it, with wretched bridle tracks at each end.
I
left the others behind, and strolled on alone over the top of the
pass
and down the other side, where the road is blasted out of rock
of
a vivid pink and green colour, looking brilliant under the
trickle
of water. I admire this pass more than anything I have
seen
in Japan; I even long to see it again, but under a bright blue
sky.
It reminds me much of the finest part of the Brunig Pass, and
something
of some of the passes in the Rocky Mountains, but the
trees
are far finer than in either. It was lonely, stately, dark,
solemn;
its huge cryptomeria, straight as masts, sent their tall
spires
far aloft in search of light; the ferns, which love damp and
shady
places, were the only undergrowth; the trees flung their
balsamy,
aromatic scent liberally upon the air, and, in the
unlighted
depths of many a ravine and hollow, clear bright torrents
leapt
and tumbled, drowning with their thundering bass the musical
treble
of the lighter streams. Not a traveller disturbed the
solitude
with his sandalled footfall; there was neither song of
bird
nor hum of insect.
In
the midst of this sublime scenery, and at the very top of the
pass,
the rain, which had been light but steady during the whole
day,
began to come down in streams and then in sheets. I have been
so
rained upon for weeks that at first I took little notice of it,
but
very soon changes occurred before my eyes which concentrated my
attention
upon it. The rush of waters was heard everywhere, trees
of
great size slid down, breaking others in their fall; rocks were
rent
and carried away trees in their descent, the waters rose
before
our eyes; with a boom and roar as of an earthquake a
hillside
burst, and half the hill, with a noble forest of
cryptomeria,
was projected outwards, and the trees, with the land
on
which they grew, went down heads foremost, diverting a river
from
its course, and where the forest-covered hillside had been
there
was a great scar, out of which a torrent burst at high
pressure,
which in half an hour carved for itself a deep ravine,
and
carried into the valley below an avalanche of stones and sand.
Another
hillside descended less abruptly, and its noble groves
found
themselves at the bottom in a perpendicular position, and
will
doubtless survive their transplantation. Actually, before my
eyes,
this fine new road was torn away by hastily improvised
torrents,
or blocked by landslips in several places, and a little
lower,
in one moment, a hundred yards of it disappeared, and with
them
a fine bridge, which was deposited aslant across the torrent
lower
down.
On
the descent, when things began to look very bad, and the
mountain-sides
had become cascades bringing trees, logs, and rocks
down
with them, we were fortunate enough to meet with two pack-
horses
whose leaders were ignorant of the impassability of the road
to
Odate, and they and my coolies exchanged loads. These were
strong
horses, and the mago were skilful and courageous. They said
if
we hurried we could just get to the hamlet they had left, they
thought;
but while they spoke the road and the bridge below were
carried
away. They insisted on lashing me to the pack-saddle. The
great
stream, whose beauty I had formerly admired, was now a thing
of
dread, and had to be forded four times without fords. It
crashed
and thundered, drowning the feeble sound of human voices,
the
torrents from the heavens hissed through the forest, trees and
logs
came crashing down the hillsides, a thousand cascades added to
the
din, and in the bewilderment produced by such an unusual
concatenation
of sights and sounds we stumbled through the river,
the
men up to their shoulders, the horses up to their backs. Again
and
again we crossed. The banks being carried away, it was very
hard
to get either into or out of the water; the horses had to
scramble
or jump up places as high as their shoulders, all slippery
and
crumbling, and twice the men cut steps for them with axes. The
rush
of the torrent at the last crossing taxed the strength of both
men
and horses, and, as I was helpless from being tied on, I
confess
that I shut my eyes! After getting through, we came upon
the
lands belonging to this village--rice-fields with the dykes
burst,
and all the beautiful ridge and furrow cultivation of the
other
crops carried away. The waters were rising fast, the men
said
we must hurry; they unbound me, so that I might ride more
comfortably,
spoke to the horses, and went on at a run. My horse,
which
had nearly worn out his shoes in the fords, stumbled at every
step,
the mago gave me a noose of rope to clutch, the rain fell in
such
torrents that I speculated on the chance of being washed off
my
saddle, when suddenly I saw a shower of sparks; I felt
unutterable
things; I was choked, bruised, stifled, and presently
found
myself being hauled out of a ditch by three men, and realised
that
the horse had tumbled down in going down a steepish hill, and
that
I had gone over his head. To climb again on the soaked futon
was
the work of a moment, and, with men running and horses
stumbling
and splashing, we crossed the Hirakawa by one fine
bridge,
and half a mile farther re-crossed it on another, wishing
as
we did so that all Japanese bridges were as substantial, for
they
were both 100 feet long, and had central piers.
We
entered Ikarigaseki from the last bridge, a village of 800
people,
on a narrow ledge between an abrupt hill and the Hirakawa,
a
most forlorn and tumble-down place, given up to felling timber
and
making shingles; and timber in all its forms--logs, planks,
faggots,
and shingles--is heaped and stalked about. It looks more
like
a lumberer's encampment than a permanent village, but it is
beautifully
situated, and unlike any of the innumerable villages
that
I have ever seen.
The
street is long and narrow, with streams in stone channels on
either
side; but these had overflowed, and men, women, and children
were
constructing square dams to keep the water, which had already
reached
the doma, from rising over the tatami. Hardly any house
has
paper windows, and in the few which have, they are so black
with
smoke as to look worse than none. The roofs are nearly flat,
and
are covered with shingles held on by laths and weighted with
large
stones. Nearly all the houses look like temporary sheds, and
most
are as black inside as a Barra hut. The walls of many are
nothing
but rough boards tied to the uprights by straw ropes.
In
the drowning torrent, sitting in puddles of water, and drenched
to
the skin hours before, we reached this very primitive yadoya,
the
lower part of which is occupied by the daidokoro, a party of
storm-bound
students, horses, fowls, and dogs. My room is a
wretched
loft, reached by a ladder, with such a quagmire at its
foot
that I have to descend into it in Wellington boots. It was
dismally
grotesque at first. The torrent on the unceiled roof
prevented
Ito from hearing what I said, the bed was soaked, and the
water,
having got into my box, had dissolved the remains of the
condensed
milk, and had reduced clothes, books, and paper into a
condition
of universal stickiness. My kimono was less wet than
anything
else, and, borrowing a sheet of oiled paper, I lay down in
it,
till roused up in half an hour by Ito shrieking above the din
on
the roof that the people thought that the bridge by which we had
just
entered would give way; and, running to the river bank, we
joined
a large crowd, far too intensely occupied by the coming
disaster
to take any notice of the first foreign lady they had ever
seen.
The
Hirakawa, which an hour before was merely a clear, rapid
mountain
stream, about four feet deep, was then ten feet deep, they
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