Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

As we rose higher and higher above the village, the view behind us widened, and the way became steeper and more difficult for the horses; perhaps in places also slightly dangerous. About half the distance of the mountain’s height upward, all vegetation ceases, and the path, joining that from Oiwake, a hamlet lying several miles nearer Karuizawa than does Komoro, proceeds over a steep ascent of loose ash to the edge of the outer ridge. This ridge appears from the villages below to be the summit of the volcano, but is in reality considerably below it. It was near this point that we learned the discouraging experiences of the party of pedestrians who had started out at about midnight of the night before. The native guide whom they employed had lost and then deserted them; the young woman had fainted quite away with exhaustion; the men detailed to procure assistance and have her conveyed to the nearest farmhouse, several miles away, had of course abandoned the excursion; while the others had been able only to have a glimpse from the mountain’s top, and were now hastening down in the hope of meeting us, who were ascending with the baskets containing a much-needed breakfast. It was some satisfaction to know that the man whom we had earlier seen wandering around in a clearing on the side of a lower mountain which arose across a wooded ravine was no other than the faithless guide. He had lost himself, after abandoning his charge!

When we came within a mile of the foot of the true cone the bettos struck and demanded more backshish, under the pretence that this was as far as they had been hired to go. Negotiations followed, accompanied by threats, and resulting in our moving onward after another annoying delay to the proper place from which to attack the mountain.

After a mid-day breakfast we began the last stage of our climbing of Asama-yama; and indeed this can scarcely be called a climb in any strict meaning of the word. It is rather a stiff walk—ankle deep or more in scoriæ and ashes—up a cone some two thousand feet in perpendicular height. It was obvious that we could no longer hope to have the interesting experiences covered by the original plan. There was no chance of seeing the volcanic fires made more impressive by the darkness of night; and sunrise had already passed by many hours. What was still worse, just while we were eating luncheon, a thick cloud came down upon the mountain and completely shrouded objects even a few rods away. There remained, however, the crater and its unceasing display of the forces raging within. Plodding steadily along, with muscles stiff and aching from the six-and-a-half hours of such a horse-back ride, brought us to the top; and here, of course, the cloud had somewhat of the same effect as that which we had expected to be furnished by the darkness of night.

The side of the cone of Asama-yama is strewn with large, rough fragments of loose lava, and unfathomable rifts extend for the greater part of the distance down to its very base. The crater is almost circular in shape, and nearly a mile in circumference. Its sides and crest are horribly jagged; and its depths, as far down them as one can see, give a lively picture of the popular conception of a veritable hell. The coolies warned us on no account to throw any stones, however small, into the crater; otherwise the god of the mountain might be angered by the insult, and avenge it by overwhelming us with fire and smoke. To escape any touch of such a fate, it seemed to us unbelievers more necessary to keep as much as possible to the windward side of the crater. And, indeed, even with this caution, it was not possible to escape all discomfort. On approaching as near as was at all safe, one saw, as far as sight could reach, great masses of sulphur on the rocks, clouds of steam bursting from the sides and clouds of smoke rising from lower down; while once in about every two minutes sheets of flame sprang out and rose occasionally far above the crater’s mouth.

Coming down the cone, we were constantly losing the path, so thick had the cloud surrounding the mountain become. The prospect of descending at any other than the right spot was not at all attractive; for this would mean wandering about indefinitely in those many square miles of the region which had been desolated and rendered uninhabitable by the eruption of more than a century before. This mishap we undertook to avoid by the simple expedient of always keeping within easy hailing distance of each other; and then when any one of the party picked up the lost path, it was easy to reassemble the entire party.

The ride back to the inn at Komoro was even more tedious than the ride upward had been. In places it was, as a matter of course, somewhat more dangerous, considering the character of the bettos and their horses. Mindful of this and willing at times to escape the torture of the pack-saddles, my Japanese friend and I walked a considerable proportion of the distance; the missionary ladies trusted the Lord and never once dismounted from their horses. In these different ways we all arrived safely at the inn from which we had set out about fourteen hours before.

And now we were to have another specimen of the wisdom and morality of the old-fashioned innkeeper in his dealings with foreigners in Japan. For our host, through whom the contract for the horses had been made, insisted that he must have double the contract price, on the ground that the animals had doubled the distance for which they were hired, by bringing us back again. Here, for the third and last time, the shaming and threatening process was gone through with, and justice in dealing reluctantly forced instead of submission to fraud. By the time this unwelcome item of business was accomplished, however, it was necessary for my friend and me to bid good-bye to the rest of the party and to make all possible haste in jinrikishas to the station in order to catch the last train for Shin-Karuizawa, where we intended to spend the night. For we knew that here, in close proximity to the station, a new tea-house had just been opened by a host who was desirous of catering to foreigners and who had some faint notions at least of what was necessary in order to realise his desire.

On arrival, our first inquiry was for that old-fashioned Japanese bath, which, when followed by the native form of massage, excels, as a remedy for exhausted nerves and sore and tired muscles, anything to be found elsewhere in the world. The reply of the host was that, of course, the bath had been prepared, but only one other guest had as yet made use of it; if then the foreign gentleman had no objection on this account, he could be served at once. It would take an hour, however, to prepare a fresh bath. Under the circumstances, promptness seemed much preferable to extreme squeamishness; and only an extreme of this trait so inconvenient for the traveller in those days in Japan would raise a mountain of objections, when one knew that every decent Japanese does his washing of the entire body most thoroughly, before he enters the bath.

After a bath and a supper of rice, eggs and tea, came amma san, the professional blind masseuse of the neighbourhood, who, for the munificent sum of twenty cents—fee and tip of generous proportions included—greatly relieved the tired pedestrians. The trip next morning down the tram was much less uncomfortable than the upward trip had been. In the evening of the same day I spoke in the theatre at Maebashi, the principal centre of the silk trade of this region; and then the following day we went on to Ikao. The fifteen miles between these two places were travelled in jinrikishas or on foot,—a style of journeying which was pleasant and more merciful, since the steep rise of the latter part of the way made their work too hard even with two men to each jinrikisha. And indeed, I have never been able to be amused rather than angered at the sight, common enough even now, of a fat English or American woman jabbing a little Japanese man with her parasol in order to make him run faster. How can we modify so as to cover a case like this, the motto: “A merciful man is merciful to his beast!” And here I should like to say a good word for the Japanese jinrikisha runner. In the old-time treaty ports, chiefly through the influence of foreigners, he has indeed been sadly corrupted. But in the old feudal towns and country places he is in general an honest, well-meaning fellow, who strives hard to give satisfaction to his employer by doing his hard work faithfully. And of the several whom I have had with me for weeks and months together, there has not been one to whom I have not become attached.