Three Years in Western China / A Narrative of Three Journeys in Ssu-ch'uan, Kuei-chow, and Yün-nan

by Sir Alexander Hosie

FERTILITY OF THE NING-YUAN PLAIN.

The plain from Lu-ku southwards is noted throughout Western China for its fertility; but from that point until south of Ning-yuan, the river flows along the base of the lofty hills bounding the western edge of the plain, which slopes gently from east to west, and its waters are little available for purposes of irrigation. The plain, therefore, depends for the most part upon the rainfall for its water supply, and, owing as we have seen to the fact that rain had not fallen for a month previous to our arrival, the cracked and arid ground, with its stunted crops of poppy, wheat, and beans, presented a striking contrast to the glowing description we had received of this happy Eldorado. South of Ning-yuan, however, the plain is perfectly level and the river winding about in it is extensively utilised for irrigating the fields.

Although fortune usually smiles upon the valley of Chien-ch’ang, the inhabitants of its many villages are not to outward appearances a happy race. What strikes the traveller most with regard to them is the prevalence of the unsightly goître, from which neither sex nor age is exempt. The natives attribute it to the impure salt from the brine wells of Pai-yen-ching, within the jurisdiction of Yen-yuan Hsien, and their belief is, that north of Ning-yuan Fu the salt supply comes from the northern salt springs, and that where this salt is consumed, goître is exceedingly rare, while south of Ning-yuan only local salt is used and goître is excessively common. This can hardly be reconciled with the statements made to me by the inhabitants of the mountainous regions of the province of Kuei-chow, where goître is likewise remarkably prevalent. They were unanimously of opinion that the disease is due to the salt from the northern springs of Ssŭ-ch’uan, which supply the entire province of Kuei-chow. But the true origin of the disease is doubtless to be ascribed to calcareous and other substances held in solution in the water supply of the districts.

The small town of Ho-hsi, “West of the River,” the first stage from Ning-yuan, lies in a bend at the foot of a mountain range, which forms the divide of the An-ning and Ya-lung rivers. It, too, has its story of war with nature. A small stream from the western mountains flows through the town on its way to join the river in the plain. In 1881, a terrific hailstorm swept over mountain and plain; the stream became a roaring torrent and annihilated nearly the whole town—the number of killed and drowned being estimated at a thousand souls.

Following up the stream towards its source, we attained, after a few hours’ climb, the ridge of the mountain, where the roads are worn out of the solid limestone to a depth of twelve feet by the constant traffic between the salt springs to the south-west and Ning-yuan Fu. The steep eastern slope of the mountain was covered with rank coarse grass, nor did cultivation appear until the ridge was crossed. Even then there were only a few clearings here and there, and these were occupied by the large-leaved privet, the pear and other fruit trees, while the uncultivated ground was clad with stunted pine. Beyond the ridge, the road, a mere bridle-path, runs west by south along the mountain side, whence we could make out to the south the green waters of the Ya-lung River flowing north-east and suddenly bending southwards, its progress in the former direction being obstructed by a mountain barrier. As might be expected in such a country, the population is very scant, and only an occasional hut for the refreshment of the traveller was to be seen during a day’s journey.

A TIBETAN CARAVAN.

While resting at a solitary tea-house on the mountain side, and speculating on the advisability and wisdom of attempting this route in chairs, I perceived in the far south-west a long line of moving objects coming towards us. Red flags and gaily-caparisoned mules and ponies warned me that something more than ordinary was approaching. The red-clad muleteers, armed with swords and spears, and the large powerful dogs trotting at the heads of the pack-animals, told us that we were face to face with a Tibetan caravan. It consisted of some fifty animals laden with medicines, musk, and sundries. Our spirits rose as we heard that the road was open for pack-animals.

Our resting-place during the night of our second stage from Ning-yuan was the village of Tei-li-pao, overlooking the Ya-lung River, which we reached by a steep descent on the following morning. Ascending its left bank for four miles through dense hedges of prickly pear, growing with a profusion I have not seen elsewhere in Western China, we crossed it at the ferry of Ho-pien Hsün, a customs station on its right bank. The river itself, which is about two hundred yards in breadth, is deep, and flows with an even current until it reaches the sharp bend which I have already mentioned, when it lashes itself into foamy billows against submerged rocks. The Ya-lung is unnavigable, and the only craft on its green waters were three ferry boats, each about thirty feet long. From the bed of shingle which lies below the customs station, we followed for a short distance the right bank, which is here lined with huge boulders, and then turned south-west up a gully, down which flows a streamlet to the main river. The country gradually opens out, and cultivation, which had practically ceased since we left the Ning-yuan plain, began to reappear on the gentler slopes of the mountain sides to the south-east.

INHOSPITABLE HANG-CHOU.