OUR MILITARY ESCORT
“ORPHAN SPIRIT” SHRINE
We crossed a fine suspension-bridge after leaving Laowat’an, and took a path leading upwards for about a couple of hours over the mountains. A light for the “orphan spirits” might well be needed on such a road. The chair-carriers found it difficult work, and we got on much more quickly on our own feet; though the coolies made no suggestion that we should walk, despite the fact that we had authorised them to do so whenever the road was difficult. They are so willing and attentive in performing any little service—such as cleaning one’s boots after walking through a quagmire—that one the more gladly saves them when the road is stiff. One coolie fell and wrenched his knee rather badly, but he went on most uncomplainingly, and showed intense gratitude on getting it bathed and bandaged. In fact, from this time on he was our devoted slave. We were interested to meet quite a new god in this region. He has three faces, and often wears a large stone hat. He is carved in stone, and stands by the roadside like a little milestone at intervals all along the way; but frequently there are no signs of worship about him. He is called by the Buddhist formula “O mi to fu,” and is worshipped by the coolies to prevent their getting sore feet, so they frequently burn sandals (quite new ones) before him, and incense sticks may be seen in front of his image. Day by day we went up and down the most precipitous places, gradually rising to the Yünnan plateau. The road grew worse and worse, being much injured by the long trains of pack-animals. Ponies, mules, and donkeys are driven in parties of from ten to thirty; and not only do they make the road full of little round holes, but also they are a dreadful hindrance, frequently completely blocking the way. The path, besides, has large round stones embedded in it, which are polished by the coolies’ sandals till they shine like porphyry. One day we met dozens of mules going down a breakneck zigzag staircase in the rocks, and we were bespattered by them with mud from head to toe, being compelled to wait while they went past. How they keep their footing it is hard to tell, and it is sad to see their sore backs when their loads are off. The loads being carried are of a most varied description: copper, tin, coal, salt, skins, spices, chillies, armadillo skins, paper, bowls, opium, and later in the season large quantities of the wax insect “larvæ.” In a recent official report the road from Sui Fu to Chaotung is described as one of the worst in the Empire, but it is good compared with others in the north of the same province. The Chinese have given picturesque names to some of these bad ones, such as “The King of Hell’s Slide,” the “Gate to Hell,” the “Last Look at Home,” the “Place where the Soul is Lost.” Describing this road on the borders of Babuland, where the Lolos live, S. Pollard writes that from one spot he counted no fewer than sixty towers of refuge.
TOWER OF REFUGE
“OMI TO FU” SHRINE
For ten days we followed the course of the Laowat’an, or Taquan River, till at last we traced it to its source where it gushes out of a hole from the bowels of the mountain as quite a large, brawling stream in a sort of cul-de-sac of the hill. Its banks are frequented by the ubiquitous wagtail, the fierce-eyed cormorant, and the most cheery little blackbird with a white cap and black-tipped chestnut tail, which it flirts as assiduously as the water wagtail does. In one part there was a fine limestone crag overshadowing the river, and high up in its ledges there are still to be seen dilapidated fragments of coffins, said to date back as far as the time of the Ming dynasty. How they were conveyed to such a position it is difficult to conceive. For an hour after leaving the stream we climbed laboriously up the hillside till we were swallowed in the mist, and at last emerged into quite a different and much more familiar landscape, a bog moorland, on which were scattered thatched cottages from which a pleasant smell of burning peat greeted our nostrils. We felt as if we were suddenly transported to Ireland. We sat down to rest by a cottage where a woman was selling inviting-looking sweets, and she was as pleased as our men were when we distributed them among the party. They were made of the nuts and sugar grown in the neighbourhood. Not an hour before, we had left groups of bamboos and tall fan palms, and the contrast of the new country was certainly very startling. The cottagers looked poor and scantily clad, and from this point on they seemed to be poorer and poorer looking.
