Getting Lost and Finding The Way Back

I spent my Sunday afternoon getting lost in the wooded mountains that surround my house. It was my intention going in to get a little lost, while remaining somewhat on track, as I had nothing planned for my day but to run, read and relax. I explored these particular trails on Friday morning and vowed that I would come back over the weekend to explore more. So, Sunday rolled around and that’s exactly what I decided I would do. I laced up my shoes and headed out the door.

Fifteen minutes into my run and I had passed all familiarity of the trails I knew, but the uncharted areas held certain similarities in the workout stations scattered with benches. I promised to keep to the left going in and down, so I would come up and out on the right. Of course the way in was smooth sailing and I assumed I was going the right direction because I was making my own way. Some of the steeper hills caused me to slow to a hiking pace, but I was feeling good. I hit a road with no recognizable markings and decided it was time to turn around being a little over 30 minutes into my adventure and thinking that an hour would be a good afternoon exertion.

I don’t know where I went wrong. Up and right, up and right. The first seven minutes were good and then I got to a little workout station that I thought I had zipped through on the way in, but when I went to continue on the trail there was none. Huh. Okay, well, um, back the way I came? So, I went out, and naturally turned right. Oh yeah, this is looking familiar… right? The trees were the same; the ground the same golden dirt; and the stairs turning into recognizable roots, but it was different. There was no fence when there was supposed to be a fence. Great, I thought as I could feel the afternoon darkening on my wooded surroundings. I’m going to be stuck in here forever. I’m going to have to learn the ways of the wild. Forage berries and eat bark, maybe even kill a bear for the winter months and fashion myself a suit out of his skin. But what do I use to kill him, my hands; where do I find a weapon, or how do I make one? I don’t even know how to make a fire without a lighter!

It felt as if some vengeful Korean gods were looking down on me and laughing as they moved the trails around in front and behind me, Look at that silly little waygook ("foreigner" in Korean), not being able to see what is put right in front of her. She is surrounded by nature and all she can think of is destroying it for her own survival. Another said, Ahh, but she is but mortal and has a fear of the unknown, naturally.

Yet she goes in looking to be lost.

To be found. To discover.

Then why is she so scared?

Because she didn’t actually expect it to happen.

I ran faster when I thought I saw something I knew. I’ve passed this antennae before! But did I come from the right or left? Constant questions plagued me as to which direction I came before. I got mixed up in the coming back. I didn’t stick to the left and then to the right like I said I would. I slid down one particularly steep mountain pass and was spit out on a street that looked like every other street in civilized Korea: two to three convenient stores, a restaurant or two, a gas station and seven identical apartment buildings, the only thing differentiating them were the giant numbers painted on their sides. Now the question was do I stay on the road, running, hoping to find home, or go back in the mountain. I went back. The cicadas and crickets burned my ears as the sweat trickled down my face. I really wished I brought my water belt with me as it’s getting past an hour into my run.

I climbed up the steep hill I slid down and went back to a previous turning point only to be spit out at another road, this time I ran across a parking lot and found the first road I was spit onto. Uhhh!! I needed to find the place where my initial mountain connected to the second mountain. And, of course there are signs scattered throughout the trails, but I can’t read Korean and don’t know if they’re directions, well wishes or DANGER UP AHEAD!

Turning left then right, running down and struggling up, constantly asking myself, Have I been here before? If yes, then where did I go? The trails reminded me of getting lost in the National Parks in Columbia, Missouri with my friends on cool college autumn afternoons after class was done for the day and studying seemed hours away, the same temperate forest and the winding hills, except I was in Korea and I was alone. I wished I could’ve seen myself from up above, so I could get a sense of the direction I needed to head or see all the places I’d been. I also wished that I had pulled a Hansel and Gretel and brought some bread crumbs or beads or washable spray paint along to mark my way. I huffed and puffed and was spit on a final road.

I was about to break down in a string of profanity and scared frustration when I looked up and saw a sign pointing to Youngtong Catholic Church (there’s a church right next to the entrance of the trail by my house, don’t know if it’s Catholic, but I live in Youngtong and this seemed to be a good thing). YIPPE!! I screamed in my head as I felt a smile spread across my face. I ran up the winding pavement to the place where the two mountains met and headed back up the first one to the left. So far, so good. I remember this, and this, and then I went this way, and oh! this looks familiar. Growing happier and happier until it happened again, I got turned around. You’ve got to be kidding me! I took a deep breath and turned around, went down the path that I didn’t think I took in the first place, and there I was, remembering where I had been again. Familiarity fastened my grip on the ground and I leapt and bounded down the mountain passes; each step drawing me closer to home and happiness.

Two hours later and I was back where I started. I got lost exactly like I wanted to and I found my way out without shedding one tear. Baby steps towards finding myself and my way in this crazy place that’s called Korea. Perseverance and an active imagination do wonders for your soul. Sometimes all it takes is trying something new to find your way back home. The only thing I’ll do differently next time is start out earlier and bring water, and maybe a handful of bread crumbs, or my camera so at every turn I can take a picture pointing which way I went – hey! that sounds like a pretty good idea.

PS – another thing happened when I was lost. In addition to being reminded of central Missouri’s hills and wildlife, I felt as if in any moment I’d be sucked into Haruki Murakami’s novel, “Kafka on the Shore.” There’s a point in the story where young Kafka is staying at Oshima’s cabin in the woods and he goes out to explore farther than he’s been before, eventually leading to the place where lost souls sit and stay and wander through each day. Winding through the hills made me feel like I was in a labyrinth that would never revel itself to me and I would spend the rest of my days walking up and down, round and round, looking for that green fence that would take me out. It’s a good book, and I highly recommend that you read it – or anything by Mr. Murakami, really. It’s brilliant stuff, insightful and magical and wonderful. Do yourself the favor.