PARTIES of tourists usually land at Yokohama, rejoining their steamer a few days later at Kobe. After a little sight-seeing in Yokohama they generally take a train to Kamakura and stop at the island of Enoshima. If there is time, they continue on to Miyanoshita. They take in Tokyo, Nikko, and Kyoto, with perhaps a few hours in each, and then go on to Kobe. In the limited time this all has to be done by train, which, in the present condition of the roads, is a quicker and surer method of travel than any other. Kurumas (jinrikishas) can be used for side trips, or kagos (sedan-chairs) for mountain climbs. Trolley cars are a convenience in the cities, and often take one to quite remote places in the country as well. The rates are lower than in the West, and special cars can be hired for a moderate amount.

For those who have longer to stay, the motor offers a delightful way of seeing the country as well as many opportunities for getting off the beaten track and having adventures. Because the roads are narrow and the bridges frail, the motorcycle, rather than the automobile, is after all the ideal method of travel, for it takes one into really out-of-the-way places which could not be reached in a larger machine. Of course this pastime is only for men, and for men who are willing to rough it, at that. If a woman is at all inclined to be nervous she had better not try motoring in Japan, even in a car, except on well-known roads.

The traveller with sufficient time at his disposal also finds various trips to be made by steamer, such as the one through the Inland Sea, which is described in this chapter.

Motoring is just beginning to be popular in Japan. Many of the roads are not bad except in spots, and the scenery is usually beautiful. During the rainy season the country roads are very disagreeable,—often almost, if not quite, impassable. Only in a city like Tokyo or Yokohama is it worth while for the resident to have a car the year round.

The best touring months are in the spring and autumn—in March, when the plum blossoms are finishing and the cherry blossoms beginning, and in April and May. In June comes the rain. The heat during July and August is very severe, then come the typhoons, and rain again in September. When the maple leaves are turning, later in the autumn, there is another happy moment for the motorist. Although the winters are not really disagreeable, there is a cold wind, and the Japanese inns are damp and chilly.

A short machine is necessary, as well as a skilful chauffeur, for the turns are often very sharp, especially at the bridges. These bridges, by the way, are treacherous and need to be strengthened for motor-traffic. They were built for the use of a 'ricksha or—at the most—for a horse and two-wheeled wagon. Gasoline may now be procured in many places, and road-maps are also to be had. It is important to take some one along who can speak Japanese, and to provide food for the trip, if one does not like the native dishes. Hot tea may be had almost anywhere.

In taking a motor trip one would naturally start at Yokohama. At first glance this city seems thoroughly Japanese, but, on knowing it better, I have found it to be in reality very European and not at all typical of the country or its people. It is rather a laughing-stock among the Japanese themselves, who call things "Yokohama" as a term of derision. Most foreigners live on the "Bluff," which overlooks the bay. Some of the houses in this section are fascinating, for they are surrounded by gardens and command wonderful views. Some glimpses of real Japan may be caught in the native quarter of the city, but coming back to Yokohama after having been into the interior gives one the impression of having left Japan behind.

A trip which is easy and comfortable for ladies may be made from Yokohama to Miyanoshita. It takes several hours each way, with a day added if one goes on over the Hakone Pass. L. and I took this trip while the plum-trees were in bloom.

From Yokohama to Kamakura much of the way was through the paddy-fields, which reminded me of trips on the narrow roads between the canals of Holland. We passed some strange new pagodas on a hillside, erected lately in honour of the Fire-God—a terrible creature carved on a rocky cliff and painted in colours. We also passed a succession of little places famous for the "plum-viewing," with their small tea-houses all ready for the viewers. There were camellia-trees in bloom, too, and the paddy-fields were beginning to show faint greens where the farmers were pottering about in the carefully cultivated land.

Kamakura is sunny and warm, by the sparkling sea. Many invalids go there, especially in winter—foreigners often rent the native houses. The big Buddha, surrounded by plum-trees, has twice been washed by tidal waves. The silvery branches with their white blossoms looked as if they had been sprinkled with snow, and the delicate perfume in the air was delicious. The Buddha is said to have stood there in the wind and rain and sunshine for seven hundred years. It is perhaps the finest large piece of bronze in the world; it has eyes of pure gold and a great silver boss on its forehead that looks like a full moon, while on its head are eight hundred curls. "These are the snails that kindly coiled themselves on Buddha's head when by thinking too much in the hot sun he might have been sun-struck."

We visited another shrine at Kamakura, where there is a huge trunk of cedar carved into a Kwannon—she is the goddess of pity and humility. It is said that once upon a time an illumination was seen over the waters, and on going to find out what caused it some fishermen discovered the figure of this goddess, carved in wood, which they brought ashore and set up for all to worship.

It is told of Kwannon that "in her boundless love she divided herself into many bodies and renounced the joy of Nirvana that she might bring peace and happiness to others." She is often compared to the Christian Madonna, and is considered the goddess of mercy, as well as the protector of dumb animals, especially of horses and others that work for man. She is variously depicted in Japanese art—sometimes with a thousand hands, in each of which is an answer to a prayer—sometimes with eleven faces, "smiling with eternal youth and infinite tenderness." A remarkable piece of embroidery which was brought to the Embassy to sell at a huge price showed Kwannon as the divine mother, pouring forth from a crystal vial holy water, each bubble of which contained a tiny child.

Osame told me that Kwannon was the daughter of a king of the Chow dynasty who sentenced her to death for refusing to marry. The executioner's sword broke without inflicting a wound, but her spirit went to hell, which, however, she straightway turned into a paradise. The king of the infernal regions hurried her back to earth and turned her into a lotus flower on the island of Pooh-to.

While we were standing at her shrine, which is on the side of a pine-clad hill looking out over the sea, there came a sad funeral procession led by men carrying a big wicker birdcage. When I asked about it, Osame said that birds were kept in it and were set free at funerals to typify the release of the soul. There was the usual gold paper, and the coloured paper lotus flowers. The unpainted carved box, or coffin, shaped something like a palanquin, was borne on the shoulders of four men. The widow was clad in white, which is the mourning colour. Following the mourners came men, bringing trees and plants to set out on the grave.

En route from Kamakura to Miyanoshita we motored over the old Tokaido road—the great highway from Tokyo to Kyoto—with its crooked pines on every side and its views of the bright blue sea and of enchanting Fuji, so often represented in Japanese art.

On the way we passed the wonderful island of Enoshima. Here Benten, goddess of the sea, has her shrine, for the island is said to have arisen from the deep at her coming. She is one of the seven goddesses of luck, and is likewise referred to as the divinity of love, beauty and eloquence. It is customary for people who are in love, or for those who, on the contrary, wish to be divorced, to go to Enoshima and pray to Benten. She is said to have descended from the clouds and, entering a cavern where the sea king dwelt, to have married him out of hand. He was a dragon who devoured little children, but her good influence put an end to his sins. She is depicted as having eight arms, and as riding upon a dragon. Her shrines are generally found on islands.

I had always felt that Fuji was much overrated, but on this day it certainly wove its charm about me. Mayon, in the Philippines, is as beautiful in shape, but it never has any snow on its summit. Our own snow-capped Mt. Rainier is truly superb, but its shape is less symmetrical than Fuji's. Snow-capped and perfect in line, Fuji seemed to rise out of the sea in its mist, a great, beautiful ghost-mountain. Seeing it, I felt the Spell of Japan as never before.

So many things have been said about Fuji, and so many poems have been written, that it would be impossible for me to invent anything new in regard to it. It is called the "Supreme Altar of the Sun" and the "Never-dying Mountain.'' It is supposed to hold the secret of perpetual life, and miracles are said to have been performed there. It is likened to a white lotus, and to a huge inverted fan. Sengen, the fire goddess, and Oanamochi, "Possessor of the Great Hole," dwell there, while near the shrine of the God of Long Breath is a spring of healing for the sick.

Miyanoshita is one of the most famous summer resorts in Japan. It is two thousand feet above the sea, and is surrounded by mountains as high again. The climb up there in the motor went well; the air was fine and clear, and the hot sulphur baths at the hotel refreshed us. This hotel is excellent. It overlooks a beautiful valley, picturesque and green in the foreground, and shading off into that pale blue of distance which makes a Japanese panorama so complete. Around us rose high hills, ravined and grotesque, with here and there the roofs of tiny tea-houses peeping through the trees. As I looked from my window the tops of the mountain opposite were all big and grey, like elephants' ears. The view down the valley to the sea made me think of the wonderful Benquet Road in the Philippines.

In a tea-house garden near the hotel were many-coloured carp dashing about in the clear sulphur water. The long-tailed cock of antiquity is now rarely to be found, but there was one in this same garden, and also a minor bird which spoke quite as clearly as our parrot at home.

We went over the pass to Hakone. The road was difficult; the bridges were often shaky, and occasional small landslides delayed our progress. We were rewarded, however, by the sight of a charming lake some seven miles in length, with mountains stretching down into it, and Fuji-San beyond, hiding his lovely head in the clouds. The Emperor has a summer palace at Hakone, built in European style.

When we came down from Miyanoshita in the motor, it was a beautiful morning, and a beautiful ride it was, too, down through the valleys and out on to the plain, along the Tokaido with its avenues of cryptomerias, and across the paddy-fields.

I am told it will soon be possible to go by motor from Yokohama to Miyanoshita by another route—over the new military road when it is finished, across by Otome-Toge, and over the Hakone Range into the valley this side of Fujiyama to Gotimba.

Another trip from Yokohama is to Mishima. We did not try this ourselves, but the account of it given by a writer in the Japan Magazine, from whom I quote, shows some of the difficulties to be encountered on the road:

"It was on the stroke of ten, on the nineteenth of April, when three of us, with a chauffeur, pulled out of the E. M. F. garage on the Yokohama Bund in the new twenty-five h. p. Studebaker. Kozu was reached at noon, and twenty minutes later we turned off the beaten track—from a motoring point of view—at the terminus of the Odawara-Atami light railway.

"Here the real interest of the day's run began. The road to Atami, though rather narrow, has a good surface for the most part, and runs along the coast, now almost at the sea level, now winding over the hills, from which a magnificent panoramic view of the Odawara Bay far below is obtained. From the heights the coast with its white line of surf can be followed by the eye beyond Enoshima on the one side, and on the other side a succession of capes, merging in the haze, end in the dim vista of Vries Island. A halt of some thirty minutes at a roadside rest-house near Manazuru to have lunch and enjoy the beautiful scenery passed all too quickly. Atami was reached at 2.30 P. M.

"So far the road presents no particular difficulties, but good care must be taken, and a little backing is required to get around two or three sharp turns. After a short halt to inspect the radiator and to see whether the tires were well inflated, we started on the long climb."

The motorist had gone over the road on foot, and it had seemed quite possible to negotiate all the curves without backing, but this did not prove true in actual test. The curves were for the most part of the real hairpin variety and came in such never-ending series that count of them was soon lost. On more than half of them it was necessary to back at least once, before getting round.

"Nevertheless," he resumes, "we were making good and steady progress until within about a mile and a half from the top of the ridge, when the gasoline began to get too low to reach the engine against the incline and the cant of the car on the turns. From this spot on, the last mile resolved itself into a trial of patience and muscle in manoeuvring the car round each corner to a sufficiently even—or uneven—keel for the gasoline to run to the engine until the critical point of each turn was surmounted. The last two corners were negotiated in the dark, with the writer sitting on the gasoline tank and the chauffeur blowing into it to force the gasoline into the carburetor. At eight in the evening we arrived safely at Mishima.

"Taking the above experience as a basis, it can be safely asserted that passengers on a motor car would not run any risk at all on this road, as there are no unprotected banks over which they could fall, as on the Miyanoshita road. It also makes one of the most beautiful trips out of Yokohama, for as one gradually rises above Atami the magnificent panorama of land and sea displays itself before one's eyes in ever widening circles. In our case we reached the Daiba Pass too late to enjoy the splendid view of the hills on the one side, and of the ocean with a fringe of foam along the shore down below, though the breakers could be distinctly heard."

We often motored from Yokohama to Tokyo. The road-bed is comparatively good, being hard and smooth, but it is very narrow, with constant traffic, and there are so many children running across that speed is impossible. Although the distance between the two cities is about twenty miles, the street is like one long village with its rows of houses on either side. It was endlessly interesting, with its procession of carts and wagons with their picturesque loads, and its groups of little, scurrying children in many-coloured kimonos clacking about on their clogs. There were continuous rows of small open shop-fronts with their wares set out in pretty array, and we had hurried glimpses of clean matted interiors and quaint gardens and temple entrances. Every now and then we would cross one of the queer, humped-up little bridges and look down upon the thatch-roofed cabins and high poops of the sampans congested in the river beneath. About an hour and a half is allowed for the run.

Once on this road we stopped at Osame's home—a perfect plaything of a house about two inches big, with an artistic bamboo fence and wicket, a tiny entrance-place, and little six-mat rooms. The wife prostrated herself repeatedly, and offered us tea and cake with many protestations which Osame translated. Their baby was brought in, and looked wisely at some presents which we had for him.

There are a number of one-day excursions from Tokyo for cars, and still more one- and two-day trips for motorcycles. The roads about Tokyo are good, but with a car one is likely to strike mires or bad bridges or ferryboats that are too small. These difficulties can generally be overcome, however, and they make the trip both varied and amusing.

A short expedition from Tokyo, and one comfortable for the motorist, is to the prehistoric caves—Hyaku Ana—near Konosu. These are some two hundred cave-dwellings that have been uncovered on the side of a cliff. They have long, low entrances, and vary from tiny holes to caves ten feet square and high enough for a man to stand in. The pieces of jewelry and pottery which have been found there are small help in reconstructing the life of the troglodytes—"earth spiders," the Japanese call them—who may have lived there some thousands of years ago.

Another trip from Tokyo [9] is to the Boshu Peninsula. The tourist will have an excellent opportunity of getting a few glimpses of unfamiliar Japan without going very far afield. The road follows the seashore most of the way and offers a great variety of scenery—pine-clad hills, rice fields, pretty gardens, and fishing villages with the ocean breaking on rocky cliffs. There is little chance for speeding, as the highway is often narrow and passes through many tunnels with sharp curves, but the trip was made without any trouble by Mr. S.'s large fifty h. p. Clement-Bayard.

Mr. S. and friends started from Tokyo after tiffin, and spent the night at Inage, a small village two miles from Chiba, where there was a quiet inn. Next day, they drove along the coast southwest to Tateyama, which is a popular bathing resort, reaching there in time for tiffin. The views along the way, both of the hills and of Tokyo Bay, were very fine. They went on to Katsu-ura for the night, passing Mera, which is an important fishing village at the extreme tip of the peninsula, built on a cliff near a lighthouse. It was here that the Dakota was wrecked in 1909. Part of the way the volcano on Vries Island is to be seen.

Near Katsu-ura is the birthplace of the famous Buddhist saint, Nichiren. He was born in 1222 a. d., and became a priest at the age of fifteen. His doctrines being considered unsafe, he was sentenced to death, but the executioner's sword was broken by lightning, and orders came from the Regent to release him. Various well-known temples have been erected in his memory.

Next day the return trip was made by way of Ichinomiya, Hamano, and Chiba. The entire excursion can be made in two days, and with an extra day one could also take in Narita, which has a very interesting temple and is well worth visiting.

Mountaineering by motor is also possible in some parts of Japan. A successful trip was made from Tokyo over the Torii Toge not long ago, although the road left much to be desired, being narrow, tortuous, and often washed away in places—between Azuma-Bashi and Narai it was especially bad. This pass gets its name from the massive granite torii at the top, and is over four thousand feet above the sea. The road over the Shiojiri Toge, which is thirty-four hundred feet high, is so well engineered that it was found possible to get to the top on middle gear. The views along the way are said to be of the finest, and the "Kame-ya" at Shimono-Suwa, a very comfortable hotel with natural hot baths and an obliging landlord.

One motorist found difficulty in garaging his car, and it had to be left under the wide eaves of the roof of the hotel. The ingenious landlord, however, borrowed a huge sheet of thick oil-paper and covered it all up snugly and securely from the weather, as well as from the attentions of a crowd of boys who had gathered round.

"I found the boys troublesome everywhere," this traveller writes; "they were not content to look, but must finger everything. On one occasion they turned an oil-tap and lost me half a gallon of precious oil which could not be replaced.... After this I tied up the oil-tap every night and took the wires off the accumulators, for on another occasion I found that a boy had switched these on." Such hints may prove useful to the prospective motorist.

The road from Tokyo to Nikko is good, except at one point, where it crosses a river. Next to Miyanoshita, this is the most popular excursion, for the temples are glorious and the hotel is good. We did not hear whether the road from Nikko to Chuzenji was passable.

The Japanese have a saying that you must call nothing beautiful until you have seen Nikko. L. says nothing is beautiful after you have seen Nikko. It is supreme, the climax. In 1889 he journeyed three hours to Utsunomiya, and then five hours by kuruma to Nikko, through the wonderful avenue of cryptomerias, with the foliage meeting overhead. This avenue is said to extend for fifty miles. When the temples at Nikko were being raised, some three hundred years ago, many nobles presented portions of them; but some, poorer than the rest, for their share planted these trees as an approach to the temples.

THE WONDERFUL AVENUE OF CRYPTOMERIAS.