
Confined to the house endlessly, day after day, to avoid exposure to COVID-19, I missed lots of things outdoors. Most of all, I missed the clean, fresh air and the pretty, verdant growth of nature on Mt. Jagoh, which rises to a modest elevation of 303 meters. Waegwan is a small town with a population of less than 50,000 and there is nothing much to enjoy, from the perspective of culture and entertainment. It doesn’t even have a single cinema.
But I have been living here for over 50 years, contentedly without much inconvenience. This is because, thankfully, the town is blessed with an excellent natural environment: Mt. Jagoh and the beautiful, serene Nakdong River, both of which are within a stone’s throw from home. I have no doubt that they both have nurtured me significantly over the years, mentally and physically.
It’s little surprise to see many magpies in Waegwan. Traditionally, the big, gentle-looking birds have been considered a good omen in Korea. People are friendly to them and the birds seem to be less scared of humans than other birds. If you hear a magpie cawing on the roof of your house, you can expect some good news that day: Either a visit by a welcome guest or a good message in the mailbox. Strangely enough, the harbinger of those magpies had turned out true many times in the memory of my childhood.
It’s only a 10-minute walk from home to the foot of the mountain. I then climb up around the steep hills to reach the top in about half an hour or so. I started climbing the mountain in the early 1960s, shortly after I moved here from Daegu. I always enjoyed the beauty of unspoiled nature: clean air, flowers and plants with their sweet scent, mossy rocks, the occasional birdsong and peaceful tranquility. While walking on the quiet mountain, I love to do a Zen meditation.
In early spring, when the acacia-tree flowers are in full bloom, the mountain is gorgeous with massive clusters of dazzling white flowers hanging from branches. Swarms of bees can be seen buzzing over the fragrant flowers for pollination. They have an acacia honeybee festival in May on a mountain not too far from Waegwan. The annual festival usually bustles with hundreds of people who come to enjoy the hubbub of the festivity and buy some acacia honey as a sweet souvenir.
Many decades ago, not long after I started climbing Mt. Jagoh, I encountered a few small animals such as hares, pheasants and squirrels and I was always so pleased to see them. Then one afternoon in the fall, I caught sight of a pair of beautiful black squirrels with long tails. I saw them in the tall pine trees, climbing up and down the trunk in the blink of an eye. Then they leapt from branch to branch like birds before disappearing into another tree. I was completely mesmerized by their breathtaking performance.
Another time, I was walking along the unexplored ridge of the mountain lost in thought, when I was frightened by a sudden deafening noise at my feet. It was pheasants, flying into the air, squawking and flapping their wings. My stealthy approach might have startled them, but I was also terrified. But now, the mountain is bleak and lifeless, devoid of those friendly, harmless creatures. They all seem to have disappeared because of ugly humans who had mistreated and killed them over the years.
Unfortunately, however, Mt. Jagoh carries a sad history from the Korean War -- the Hill 303 massacre. The atrocity was committed gruesomely against 41 unarmed U.S. troops by the North Korean People’s Army (KPA) on August 17, 1950. During the Battle of Taegu, elements of the U.S. 2nd Battalion, 5th Cavalry Regiment and 1st Cavalry Division were surrounded by KPA troops crossing the Nakdong River at Hill 303. Most of the U.S. troops were able to escape, but one platoon of mortar operators misidentified KPA troops as Republic of Korea Army (ROK) troops and was captured. As U.S. forces eventually broke the KPA advance, routing the force, the KPA began to retreat, when one of their officers ordered the American prisoners to be shot so they would not slow them down.
Yi Woo-won (yiwoowon1988@gmail.com) lives in Waegwan, North Gyeongsang Province, and has been writing since 1986.