After the the eleventh straight hour of moderate to strenuous hiking, with a quick pace at that, aimed towards the highest peak in Korea, my jello legs were looking forward to refuge in the Sesok mountain shelter. With only half an hour left to reach our sanctuary, the rain came in a pitter patter as the dense rolling white engulfed us whole.
Along the trek, small crags of rock tempted our calloused hands to fondle.
While reading "Mountains of the Mind" by Robert Macfarlane, I am overwhelmed by the intense reminder of my human relationship with the landscape I am walking within and upon. The geology I feast my eyes upon when lusting over rock I wish to climb, allows me to ponder a time when "rocks liquified and seas petrified, where granite slopped about like porriage, basalt bubbled like stew, and layers of limestone folded as easily as blankets". In the ineffable age of earth's history, I ponder my own mortality.
Sunny and I took on a 32 kilometre stretch of hiking trails in Jirisan National Park in only a day and a half. Adventurous, outrageous and down right fun, our bodies will be feeling the lingering effects for at least a few days I am sure. A few hours into such an undertaking, our bodies became used to the toil and pure elation took over. Despite the packed rest stops and crowded shelters, we were so lucky to hike the whole trail almost entirely alone.
What a unique experience for Korea. If any of you have ever ventured to Bukhansan National Park on a Saturday, you surely will have experienced the line-up of avid weekend hikers decked out in their name-brand gear glory snaking towards the summit like ants on a picnic. No line-ups here. It feels so great to work so hard to have the opportunity to roll our chilled fingertips over moss covered rocks and decaying tree stumps, to breathe in scents of rotting leaves and dirt and to open our eyes wide in search for indescribable breathtaking views. The rain intensified our appreciation to nature in its raw glory! Kuo Hsi, the eleventh century Chinese painter and essayist once wrote that the "haze and mist and the haunting spirits of the mountains are what human nature seeks".
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Not looking at my face for almost 3 days, I was shocked at first glance. Two deep set wrinkles between my eyebrows had carved themselves a new home. My unconscious concentration with each mighty mile had indeed taken its toll on my face. This allowed me to reflect upon age. As my birthday has once past again and I near the 30 years, I realize that the expressions we wear for long periods of time become permanently fixed. The wrinkles on our faces tell the stories of our lives. I hope when I grow really old my smile wrinkles will be the ones most visable!
