Chapter 5
The Far North,
Chapter 37th year of Toghon Temur
(E. Siberia, 1367)
After leaving Kaidu, I returned to my brother’s yurt and told him the news. Yesui immediately set about getting things ready for the trip. My clothes would not be warm enough for the far north so she set about modifying some of my father’s warmer clothes. Doqus helped her with this effort. My brother and I selected horses for the trip, and he promised to send back the horse I had borrowed. I checked out my bow and arrows, and Henry gave my sword a good sharpening. Things seemed to be well in hand so I set out to find Juchi.
By now it was midafternoon and leaden sky began to disgorge its cargo, but steadily rather than torrentially for a change. I found Juchi in his father’s yurt and was pleased to find that he not only remembered me, but also was glad that I was going with him. He was no taller than me but like his grandfather was broad. He had Kaidu’s dark eyes, but was more easygoing and fun loving. He had always been quite the tease when we were children, but he seemed not just pleased, but relieved about my coming along.
“Not just because of your fine company,” he teased, “but because I was most uneasy about the mapmaking. How fortunate that you have become an expert in this most difficult task.”
“More tedious than difficult,” I corrected him, “but as I recall, you were never one overburdened with patience.”
“Indeed!” he seemed surprised. “You remember that, do you? Well, I can assure you my father has curbed my ah…enthusiasm in your absence.”
“He is to be commended, then,” I rejoined. “No doubt great poems have been written about the deed. But moving on to the task at hand, did you get any partial maps of our path?”
“Sort of,” he answered unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to me. “This is the area between here and the Great Sea and over here is Givevneu’s drawing of the coastline near his village. I’m afraid the former will only serve us for a few days and the latter might be difficult to use. Most coastlines look the same to me.”
“Well, it depends.” I shrugged as I studied the maps. “Looking at his drawing, I would say we have a chance of finding it. For one thing, it appears to be on a deep narrow inlet surrounded by mountains and there is a spit of land near the mouth of the inlet where the actual village is. That means it would likely be a safe harbor for ships if it were deep enough, although I doubt if any ships would stray that far north. Also it looks like this is a southern terminus of a landmass, for you can see that the shore around the inlet tends generally northward.”
“You see all that in the shaman’s scratches?” Juchi shook his head. “Now, I think we might actually succeed in completing this mission. You came back just in time, Kahhr. Do you mind being called Raven? It’s easier than that odd name of yours.”
“I prefer it to Ferengi.” I looked up accusingly. “I believe that’s what you used to call me.”
“I was easier to pronounce,” he shrugged.
“How reliable is this other map?” I let him off the hook. “Can it be trusted or is it just a rough outline?”
“It was made by Arughtu,” he replied. “He was a good mapmaker in his day, but he is older now, and his vision is weak and his hand unsteady.”
“I’ll probably only need to refine it a bit,” I said. “But one thing troubles me. Why are we going now in the middle of the monsoon season? It won’t make mapping very easy, nor will it help navigation.”
“I know,” he nodded, “but Givevneu said he didn’t think the monsoon reached very far north, and he felt we needed the extra time to find his village by midwinter. I don’t know how much he told you, but it seems it will take about two months to get to where there are no more trees and then another month to reach his village. This assumes we can travel at a rather quick pace, with no terrain or native problems. And then we’re supposed to map the path, hunt when we run out of food, endure the polite necessities in every village we enter, or fight our way out. And we still have to brave the monsoon for at least a while, followed closely by the full force of winter in the far north. Until you came along, Tengri be praised, I was supposed to do this all by myself.”
“Kaidu must have a lot of faith in you,” I reassured him. “You must be proud.”
“Hmm,” he mused, “or perhaps he just finds me expendable.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scolded, “You’re the first son of his first son! Besides, he greatly emphasized the importance of the mission to the tumen’s survival. And he wouldn’t have us making maps if we weren’t supposed to return. The smallness of the ‘expedition’ must be for speed and secrecy. Still, I just can’t imagine why were going north in winter. Did you make any sense out of the message we’re supposed to deliver?”
“None.” He shook his head and handed me another piece of paper. “I wrote the sounds down in the Mongol script so I could read it to Givevneu’s brother. Does it mean anything to you?”
“I don’t think so.” I puzzled over the strange note, sounding out the words. “But this sounds a little like the language of the Nivkh. Unfortunately, I never mastered it. Did you?”
“No,” he replied, “we hardly ever dealt with them, so why bother? There are a few of them in the tumen, but we better not show this note around. Givevneu said we’d understand when we delivered it.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I agreed, returning the note. “Anyway, we’ll be too busy to worry about it. I had better finish getting ready for tomorrow.”
I took my leave and returned to Henry’s yurt. I compared Arughtu’s map to mine and reconciled the two to the degree possible. While working on the maps, I asked Henry for a waterproof container for the maps and told Yesui that I would need about four months’ worth of provisions or as near to that amount as was possible, since it would save time, but I could always hunt if I ran low. Once again, I had my nephews’ rapt attention as I worked on the maps. From the look of Arughtu’s map, we would have to go north and a little west at first and cross more than a few streams and rivers before we could turn northeast into unmapped territory. By the scale of the map, that leg would take about eight days or so. When I finished the maps, I put them and some extra paper and ink in the waterproof bag. Hopefully, I would only have to edit the maps a little on the first part of the trip. This was especially important since the rains were continuing at the moment and showed no sign of abating. Over our evening meal, we caught up with all that had been happening in our lives. Henry asked about our grandfathers and the things he remembered of Khanbalikh; I asked about the companions of my childhood. I told of my studies, Henry of his work, Doqus of the children and the animals, and Yesui of my father. Finally I told them about Paula and was roundly congratulated by all and subjected to several ribald remarks from Yesui, but it did enable us to end on a happy note. We turned in early so I could leave at first light.
The next day dawned imperceptibly in a steady drizzle. I was ready for adventure, and with Henry’s help, all was put on the horses. I made my farewells, mounted up, and leading the other horses, slogged over to the waiting Juchi. He suggested that the mapper might as well lead, so we turned north and left the Ordu. We went north retracing my path around the swamp to the northern lake. Unfortunately with all the rain, the ground was still soft and the going slower than desirable. It was almost dark when we reached the base of the hill from which I had searched in vain for the Ordu. We found a vaguely dry or, at least, well-drained spot for our first camp. At dawn, we saddled up quickly and ate our dry food on the way to save time. We went around the north side of the hill and headed north and to the west of a hill just visible in the distance. It was soon lost to sight as we entered a thick forest of tall spruce and fir trees with some birch and larch trees mixed in. Ground cover was minimal, although there were berry bushes wherever the trees thinned out and only the lodestone kept us on course as we reached the Amgun and looked for a place to cross. We followed this downstream for a while, then swam the horses across at a spot where the river broadened a bit, lessening the current. We were carried downstream, but made the other side safely. We made camp at nightfall in the woods near where we crossed the river. Now I would find out how good a cartographer old Arughtu was.
Fortunately, Arughtu’s map was quite good and only needed a few minor corrections. We slogged northward through the marshy ground and finally reached the slope of a long ridge aiming northward. We made our next camp on this drier ground. The next day, we made much better time sticking to the high ground as we followed the ridge north. In the afternoon, we arrived at its end and had to cross some woods and another marshy river to get to another north-running ridge where we camped that night. We followed this ridgeline all the next day. Then we turned west and reached the western slopes of the ridgeline through a gap and followed it north the rest of the day. The next day, we crossed over a perpendicular ridge and could just see the Great Sea far to the north. We continued west along the north side of the ridge and at the end of the day reached a high point overlooking another marshy river valley. The next morning, the rain had finally stopped, but a thick fog blanketed the valley. Following the lodestone, we plunged down into it and into another larch and spruce forest, which opened into a marsh through which another river flowed northward. We crossed the river, went into another forest, and finally came out on the slope of another north-running ridge. We were able to get above the fog by going up the slope a way. We turned north again for the rest of the day, and by evening, we could not only see the Great Sea but we could smell the salt air and hear the muffled hum of the surf.
Juchi proved to be an excellent traveling companion. He was always cheerful and talkative, shared all the camp tasks, and was a much better cook than I could ever dream of being. When we weren’t huddled over from the rain or forced to go single file, he would keep up a cheerful chatter, recalling things that had happened when we were children, bringing me up to date on some of our old playmates, and the many things that had happened since I had left. I told him a little about Khanbalikh and my studies, but he was obviously more interested in his stories, so I let him talk and tried to notice as much as possible about the terrain.
The following day was sunny and clear, a cold dry northwestern wind took over as we followed the coast westward around the northern end of the ridge, across a small river valley, and up along the northern end of yet another ridge, After some time, we finally came to within sight of the river which was the last bit of terrain on Arughtu’s map. Once across we would be on our own. There was a hill overlooking the river, so we rode up to have a better look and get some idea what was ahead. From this vantage, we could see that the river had several channels but didn’t look too deep or swift. Beyond were marsh, forest, and mountains, but the shore did turn northeast, as promised. We could see there were some villages along the river but decided it would be best to avoid locals as long as possible, although Givevneu had assured Juchi that they were almost always friendly. We decided to camp at the edge of the woods at the foot of the hill.
In the morning, we again went through a thick wood, followed by a marsh to get to the river. We slogged, waded, or swam across the various channels of the river only to find an even larger marsh on the far side, which finally gave way to another thick forest. Since the ground cover was minimal again, we made up some of the time spent wading through the marsh, and went due north following the lodestone, until the sound of the sea seemed to dim. Then we turned northeast, breaking out of the thick forest late in the day and into a thinner, more open larch and pine forest, with more underbrush, especially mosses and berry bushes. We did a bit of berry picking to top off our meal that night. By this time, it seemed we had outpaced the monsoon, for the weather was clear and dry. This made for easier mapping and more comfortable camping. Still, I began to wonder if Kaidu thought to bring the whole Ordu this way. It would be very difficult for the wagons with all the forests, marshes, and rivers. Moreover, many of the ridges we crossed were quite steep. But if he didn’t plan to bring the Ordu, why would he want the mapping? I began to take more time and care with the maps, climbing trees and hillsides for better views, and making notes about the river currents and depth, the slopes of the hills, and the density of the underbrush, always with a mind to finding a path passable to wagons.
For the next sixteen days, the path was uneventful. The coast went north, east, or northeast and there were mountains and hills right up to the coast. We found the going easiest on the lower slopes of the hills up from the beach. The vegetation was sparse, just occasional stands of larches, pines, and birch especially along the small rivers we crossed, and some bushes, mosses, and increasingly, lichens. Game was sparser as well, but we still had plenty of food and only supplemented it with small game that chanced to come into bowshot. We saw natives on occasion, and they saw us, but no contact was made. They were quite busy fishing. They seemed to have reindeer, but no horses. In fact, they looked at our horses more than at us when we were near, but their expressions were hard to decipher. We mounted a watch when we camped near them, but we were never bothered.
On the seventeenth day, a direct encounter with the locals proved unavoidable. Around midafternoon we came upon a multichanneled river, which stretched out for li in front of us. The beach proved to be the most passable terrain, so we went along for some distance only to find a large summer village right in our path. They were friendly and invited us to join them for the night. We found it prudent to agree. They called themselves Evenks, but they looked very much like the Nanai and had no trouble understanding that language. The huts they lived in were rather flimsy, consisting of laths fastened in a conical shape and covered with larch or birch bark. They insisted that they were comfortable in the winter as well, since they covered them first with earth, then with snow as it got colder. For heat they used seal oil, since wood was scarce. This was a prudent if smelly adjustment. During the course of our meal, our hosts asked about our “tribe,” its proximity, and our intentions. We told them we were Mongols and that our tribe was some distance to the south. Seeing that they too had a shaman, I described our mission as taking a message from our shaman to his family far to the northeast. They were silent for a while, but finally had to ask if all the other Mongols looked as different as Juchi and I and if it was our normal practice to get our shaman from such a distance. We got around these questions by describing the Mongols as more of a group of different “tribes” than a single tribe, so it was not unusual that our shaman was from so distant a place. This satisfied them, but they urged us to hurry, because our horses would never survive a winter out in the open. Juchi and I exchanged looks at that bit of intelligence. We hadn’t thought of that. While the Nanai and the Nivkh used dogsleds in the winter and we had tried them out as youngsters, Mongols always used horses—even in the winter. The steppe horse was sturdy, had a long coat, and could dig through snow to find grass. But, of course, it did not live in the far north. Shrewdly assessing our problem, our hosts suggested we continue on our journey until the snow covered everything and the rivers froze at which time we should seek out one of their villages and trade our horses for the use of dogsleds. We pointed out that we would need the horses to return to our “tribe.” Surely half of them would suffice, they suggested. Would their relatives likely make such a trade? we asked. Fresh meat was always welcome they assured us, especially something different. Meat! A horse is many things to a Mongol, but only “meat” as a very last resort. We were somewhat sobered as we set out from the village the next morning.
Two days later, we again encountered a huge multichanneled river system. This one was at least sixty li wide. As before, we stuck to the beach and again encountered natives. We spent the next two nights at different villages in the estuary, the last a rather large one at the northern edge where an inlet separated a large bay from the Great Sea. They also expressed curiosity about us, and we answered consistently. In the last village there was interest in our compound bows and steel-tipped arrows. They wondered if our tribe would trade such things for food or seal oil. We said that they probably would, and that we’d pass on their offer to our tribe on our return. We thought it best to give them a stake in our safe return should things ever get tense.
After leaving that village, the coast turned east, and we followed it along for thirteen days. We stuck to the coast unless warned by the natives to go inland. The natives here looked just like the Evenks, but they called themselves either Orochel or Evens depending on the village. They were very sea oriented and either fished or hunted sea animals. They would trade with the more inland tribes for meat and furs. Their huts looked either much like those of the Evenks, or much like our own yurts only with fish skin instead of felt covering. They also were interested in trade and were most interested in our horses. After all, the inland tribes rode as well as ate their reindeer. Again we held out the promise of future trade with our “tribe” on our return. They proved to be very helpful and warned us about some sizable peninsulas that would have taken us out of our way. On the thirteenth day, we were cautioned to move inland a bit to avoid some rough terrain and another peninsula.
For the next five days, we held an easterly course across a broad plain hemmed in by mountains to the north and south, and broken up by patches of larch and fir forest with heavy underbrush. On the third day, we crossed the largest and deepest river we had seen in some time. It had a strong current but was swimmable, and we got across it without incident. Late on the fifth day, we found the coast again and followed it until nightfall.
The following day, we found the coastline turning northward again, and we stayed with it for seven days. On the sixth day, we encountered a strange valley where the wind was fierce. It roared up the valley from the sea with near gale force. We made our way across it with some difficulty and asked about it when we next found a village. It seems the wind blows landward in the summer and seaward in the winter, usually very strongly. In the abbreviated spring and fall it changes directions. It is most dangerous in winter they assured us for one can be blown out to sea. I carefully marked the valley on my map. After this, the shore turned eastward, and we turned with it for the next four days. Here we were again advised to turn away from the coast to avoid two very large peninsulas. We could see the first since the shore clearly turned south for many li, but were surprised that there was another. This second was the smoking peninsula, according to the locals. It had smoking mountains and was much bigger than the first. This sounded like the one Givevneu warned us about, so we gladly altered our course. They sent us up their river a little east of north until we came upon a larger river flowing southeast. We crossed this and turned east through a large gap in the mountains, which narrowed considerably before opening up into a large valley bisected by a ridgeline. We followed the ridge northeastward until it was cut by a river, which we crossed and then turned eastward through a narrow valley and some low hills until we reached a large lake. It took twenty-six days to reach the lake.
At the beginning of this leg of the journey, it would have been early fall back on the Karamuren. Here it was perhaps the equivalent of late fall. The nights were very cold and the days were cool. In the morning, the ground was frozen hard, and as the days went by, it took longer and longer to get soft. Small shallow lakes were frozen over, and we had to avoid them in case the ice wasn’t thick enough. Anytime we were out of a windbreak, we were brutalized by the bitter cold wind. We always camped in the protection of trees or hills. The horses were having a rough time making do on the rather mean forage, and we had to ease up on them and stop anytime we found something they could eat. It took no coaxing at all for us to stay with the locals. Not only did it mean relief from the elements but also renewed directions to keep us on the trail.
The people who sent us on this detour looked something like Givevneu but called themselves the Nymyl’’u. They lived in houses dug into the ground which one entered through a smoke hole in the roof. They were moving into these from their raised summerhouses, much like those of the Nanai, when we came upon them. They had some reindeer, but mostly concentrated on fishing and hunting sea animals. They used seal and whale oil for heat and cooking. Their language sounded like that of the Nivkh, but they understood the Tungus tongue, as had all the natives so far. We asked them about the An’kalym, and they turned most unfriendly not wishing to assist any friends of their longtime enemies. We assured them we were not friends of the An’kalym, but were only instructed to take them a message from our shaman. They assumed the message had to be a reprimand, and we didn’t disabuse them of that assumption, so all was well again.
The Nymyl’’u told us that the Chavchuvat, who were related to the An’kalym would be found along the large river north of the lake to which they directed us. I told them that the particular group I was looking for lived on the Great Sea, not on a river. They assured me that the large river flowed into the sea and the An’kalym, whom they called the Lygitann’ytan, could be found all around the mouth of the river for some distance, especially to the east.
When we reached the lake, it was definitely early winter. The lake appeared frozen over, and we camped in the lee of a small row of hills to escape the harsh wind. That night, the wind changed and a storm hit dumping about a foot of snow on us while buffeting us with gale force winds. We were unable to go anywhere but to the other side of the hills to escape the wind. Here we dug a shelter out of the snow and stayed for two days while the storm played itself out. On the third day, the wind shifted back again, and we plowed through the snowdrifts back to the other side of the hills and right into a party of natives. These were armed with spears and were eyeing us suspiciously.