Lonely Trails and Mountain Hermitages

30/07 

I returned to the trail head in the morning, the weather its normal gassy self with the hills set in a fine atomized spray of low lying cloud and heat; the scene was all very achromatic. 

I had estimated about 20kmsof ridge walking for this day. The weather had given me no confidence to allow camping in the forest, one good down pour this time of the year was not uncommon and held good potential to ruin all the gear I was carrying. It just made more sense to load up the pack with food and water and try and get to the next road pass, where the prospect of finding shelter in a village or derelict hut was better. The trail so far had been fairly hard and unscenic due to the heavy vegetation and wet atmosphere. However this was what Jeong-maek walking was often about, a determined effort to walk the energy line and see what happens. In a sense they give roamers like me a straight line to walk, a start point and an end point. This form of pilgrimage can be done for various reasons, they get you in condition, it’s good to feel your body literally do this day after day. They make you alone, alive, suffer, and give you question to hate, to love…to feel the full spectrum of emotion. Everything passes through your mind in the quiet forest as you let your body become your carrier, it couriers your mind, allowing it to work, transporting it through one realm to the next, giving it new sights, sounds and smells everyday. You tell yourself to see the beauty in front of you, not to spoil yourself for more, not to expect more, there’s no more there, that’s why no one is here…in a sense there is a great beauty in just that. 

 

The forest was grand. Inside stood tall stands of deciduous forest that en-captivated me, making me look small and insignificant, lost. Half way through the long day I stopped to eat, then spread out my rain jacket and slept on that, listening to the song of bird and the natter of insect. The tall trees just stood above me like quiet Gods. By the end of the day I dropped out of that green planet and onto an road that was blazoned in bright sunlight, the heat piercing. At the pass was an old Hugae-so (rest-stop) with not much happening. A group of three men were sitting outside under the shade of some umbrellas, I went and sat at the table next to them, removing my boots and manky shirt, twigs, insects, and other debris falling from my sweating torso as I did so. The men got up and moved inside, I laughed to myself, knowing these guys had never had the pleasure before of knowing what I felt like, not sarcasm, more pity for them. I pitched there that night. 

01/08 

 

 After taking a day of rest I began walking again. On what looked like   another long leg, I laden my pack with two days supply of food and enough water for the day, hoping to obtain more at some stage elsewhere. It was now the weekend, and as the trail became more scenic I began to tumble onto other small groups of weekend hikers. I arrived at a trail junction and continued onwards in what I believed to be the right direction. The trail remained attractive and lush, the path undulating gently in an almost botanic way.  Some time later I came out onto the peak of a mountain which contained numerous other hikers. There were also mountain vendors out there selling ice-creams and makoli (rice wine), which they transport up the mountain themselves. I looked at my map, hoping that this mountain was on my route, I discovered it wasn’t, in fact I had walked about 6kms off-route. I sat down in the hot sun and had a quiet laugh to myself, resigning myself to the fact that I had made another navigational error, only due to mental laziness. It was about then that a tall local walked over wearing a straw hat. He asked me what I was doing, and I told him I had taken a wrong turn in life.  With that we both laughed and he took me over to his vending stand under the shade of some trees and gave me a bowl of Makoli. I sat there and drank it slowly, relaxing, and enjoying the company of other people for a change. He offered me another, and after that I got up and with a warm buzz walked off his mountain to the bottom, to try and get back to my Jeong-maek some 10kms south of me. I walked into a store and bought a coke. A man seeing me studying my map, came up and asked what I was doing. I told him I had gotten lost and now wanted to head back to a mountain temple called Manho-sa about 200mtrs under the Jeong-maek. On the map it was located at the end of a series of old country roads. With that, he said he would take me there. It just so happened he was a local, the local gas bottle supplier actually. We got into his truck and drove off into the countryside, passing by fields of bright green rice, the Korean countryside was once again picturesque and mesmerising. 

We drove deep into the hills, until he came to a stop at a junction, where he let me out and said that he couldn’t drive any further, but that the temple was now known as Sangwon-sa, and it was that way. I got out thanked him, and started walking, the sun still hot even in the late afternoon. About a kilometre later I came upon a large building with the words Jesus Village written on the side, what a shame I thought to myself. I walked past it hoping not to get abducted, and carried on. The road become rougher and steeper, and an SUV approached me coming down the road. It stopped and a friendly woman that may have been a Buddhist nun, had it not been for her white cotton top smiled at me, and I said I was walking to Sangwon-sa. She said to carry on, and get water once I was there. An hour later I arrived at the top of the mountain road where it ended under the Jeong-maek ridge. The small cosy temple was there, along with three builders whom were doing some additions to the place. The monk wasn’t there, but they told me he would be back later. I helped myself to a shower in the make-shift rustic bathroom that was present, and then cooked myself some noodles and tuna. Tired I felt like lying down, but this is a rather rude thing to do in the open grounds of a temple. Way up above the temple was the sanshin-gak (mountain spirit shrine), so I snuck up there and power napped in there for an hour before the workmen packed up and left. Now I had a whole temple to myself. Just on darkness, an SUV arrived and as I stood in its headlights making myself known, the monk got out, and it was the same female I had seen earlier. Despite the sight of a foreigner way up here in the middle of nowhere, the female monk invited me to stay and gave me permission to pitch my tent in the small courtyard. This I did. 

At 4am I got up and we both sat in the small Beop-dang (prayer hall) way up in the mountains, 200mtrs below the jeong-maek and I watched her summon the souls of the universe. She did the whole Morning Prayer ritual by herself, starting with the moktak (wooden percussion instrument) that is used to wake people, then the Brass bell which she rings very skillfully to awaken the universe (this cosmic noise is like an eternal metallic drone that fills the small prayer hall with vivid energy, quite amazing), and then the low guttural chant of the monks that she did by herself to talk to the universe. It really is always an incredible and touching incident to be involved in early morning prayer in Korean Buddhist temples, especially, small mountain temples with only me and a female monk. The sense of reincarnation and deja-vu, is always strong, it’s very much part of wandering in Korea, the Buddhist part of it is strong and very much the main dogma of Korean Mountain Culture. When the monks recognize you for what you are doing, you just simply become a part of their brother and sometimes sisterhood.