A Hike into the Hills above Handong

Robert Frost famously wrote:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The words of Frost have taken on new meaning for me over the past few months. Choosing to accept the call to teach here at Handong was definitely a new stage in my journey along the road less traveled by, though some may say, I've been on that road for more than a few months or even years. I'll let others judge that as they observe and evaluate the path I've taken.

This morning Frost's words came to mind in a fresh way as I took a hike up along the paths shown to me last week by Professor Kuyper Lee. I was trying to find my way back to that beautiful overlook, and as I walked I encountered several diverging roads -- some well trodden and others less traveled. It was a bit of a challenge since I was walking the trail not from where we had started the first time, but from were we ended-up.

I can hear a few of you saying, "There he goes again, walking the opposite direction -- against the flow.") I guess it would have been a whole lot easier to have gone back the same way I had been led before, but something prompted me to take the road we had returned upon.











As I did, though, I started to noticed some "signs" along the way -- not actual road signs, but a pile of old bamboo beside the path at one point, and then a cultivated field a bit farther up the hill, and even another grave site just before I reached the top of the hill and the clearing where the burial mound was situated.

The view to the east was a bit hazy, but still beautiful. I remembered to bring my camera along this time so that I could share the sights, although I must say, these few photo's don't begin to do the scene justice. I followed Socrates' example and took time to pause and think. It is a special place quite conducive to thinking -- to pondering -- to reflecting. I think it has now become to me my first sacred place here in Korea.



On the hike back down toward campus, I took the path back along the way upon which I had first been led to this place. As you can see, this is also a path "whose leaves have not been trodden black."

I hope you enjoyed the hike into the hills. I'm thinking I should get up even earlier next time -- before the dawn -- and return to the overlook to watch the sunrise. Maybe in a few days. Its getting cooler each night now, and the mornings are brisk.

Some of the trees are even beginning to turn their fall colors. Each day my surroundings are becoming more of a yellow wood, and it reminds me to continue the journey along the road less traveled by.