Ki-Duk Kim’s 2003 film, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring is one of my all-time favorite films. The South Korean writer/director beautifully tells the story of a Buddhist monk raising a young boy to adulthood on his floating monastery. The entire film is set on a pond in remote mountains, there is little dialog, and we are never really told when this is taking place. As Roger Ebert said in his four-star review of the film, “The protagonist of this film is life, and the antagonists are time and change.”
Visiting film shooting locations is never anything that has excited me. I lived for 14 years in Pittsburgh and would frequently pass Hannibal Lechter’s prison, the mall from Day of the Dead, or the church where God manifests Herself in the form of Alanis Morrisette in Dogma. Also, I worked in and around the film industry for several years, so I saw how the sausage gets made, which takes a lot of magic out of it. The pond in Ki-Duk’s film, however, has always been a destination for me, and I hoped that living in Asia, it would only be a matter of time before I made it out there.
Jusanji Pond, the real-life pond used in the film, is located inside Juwangsan National Park, the smallest of Korea’s national parks, nestled on the central-eastern coast. It is the most difficult national park to get to, as there are no major cities around it or trains that pass near it. Still, South Korea is a small country: you can travel by high-speed train from Seoul, in the northwest corner of the country, to Busan, in the southeast corner, in 2 1/2 hours, so I figured it wouldn’t pose too much of a challenge.
Entrance to Juwangsan National Park
I had planned a week-long trip to Korea to coincide with the National Day Holiday in China. The National Day Holiday falls during the first week of October and over half of the population travels during that time. With upwards of 700 million people cramming the airports, train stations, and hotels, it’s a smart move to get out of the country. In my previous trips to Korea, I have always stayed in either Seoul or Busan, so I decided I would get off the beaten path and travel somewhere close to the park.
After arriving in Seoul on a Saturday afternoon, I boarded a train to Andong, a city of about 200,000 people that is a two-hour bus ride west of the park. Andong is famous for its open-air heritage museums, including Hahoe Folk Village, a UNESCO World Heritage site just outside of the city. Unbeknownst to me, Andong was hosting a World Maskdance Festival that same week, so I was able to see masked dance troupes from Indonesia, Kenya, and Finland, among many other countries.
Hahoe Folk Village
For a few days, I took in the sights and the Maskdance festivities, before deciding to make my way to Juwangsan Park on Wednesday morning, which was calling for the best day of weather in a week where it had otherwise been overcast and rainy. Other than some AM showers in Andong, I would have clear skies and warm weather for the rest of the day.
I boarded a 7:30 am bus from downtown Andong, ready for the two-hour winding ride through the Korean countryside. Korea is an incredibly beautiful country, with green hills and mountains as far as the eye can see.
After entering the park, I took a look at the complimentary map and found the pond on the opposite side of the park. It looked like a three-hour walk, which seemed like perfect time to hike out, enjoy lunch at the pond, and then make the hike back in time to catch the last bus back at 6:30 pm.
Juwangsan Park
Two hours in, however, I had to call an audible as I hadn’t even reached the halfway point. I stopped to ask one of the park rangers the best way to get to the pond and he told me that even if I kept on this route, it would be almost impossible to hike there, as the pond is actually separated from the park and you need to drive there. He advised me to hike back to the visitor’s center and hire a taxi to take me out there.
Hidden Waterfalls
Heeding his advice, I made a u-turn and started on my way back to the visitor’s center. The park itself is beautiful, with several natural waterfalls sprinkled in-between the mountains, and I took my time getting back.
I was able to able to easily get a taxi at the visitor’s center and for the equivalent of about $25, he agreed to drive me to the pond, wait around for an hour, and then bring me back. Another winding road took us around the park and out to Jusanji Pond. He dropped me the closest he could, about a kilometer away, and I set off on foot.
Jusanji Pond
After a short uphill hike, I made it to the pond. My first thought upon looking at it was wishing it was just a couple weeks later, as the leaves would have begun changing colors by then. I got over my disappointment and took in my view. The pond is truly stunning. It sits on top of a hill, surrounded on three sides by forest and there are at least a dozen red willow trees that grow out from it, creating a surreal illusion between land and water.
Willow Trees growing in the pond
I spent about 30 minutes taking turns walking around the pond, photographing it, and sitting in awe of it. For the most part, I had the place to myself. Eventually, though, I bumped into three lively middle-aged Korean women, who asked me to take their photos in front of one of the willow trees. After conceding to a dozen or so requests, I begged off to return to my taxi.
Two hours later, I was pulling back into Andong and the hustle and bustle of the Maskdance Festival. The next day, I would be heading back to the metropolis of Seoul and the trendy streets of Hongdae. But for just a few minutes, I was all alone in one of the most beautiful places on Earth; a place I have great reverence for and wonderful memories of a brilliant film.
