At Land’s End

I’ve seen Jeju Island many times, but this was the first time I set foot in Marado – a flat island from where Mt. Songak in Seogwipo City can be seen looming in the distance. This was the setting of a recent tragedy.

It was November 25, 2006, at the hands-on fishing event held in Moseulpo during the Bangeo (Yellowtail) Festival. A high wave had capsized a boat and a Seogwipo major was missing.

I was there that day for a story on a fishing boat floating on the churning waters between Marado and Gapado.

The seas here are known for their choppiness and depth, especially between Marado, Gapado, and Mt. Songak. Coincidentally, yellowtails gather at this point, from late October to February. Fishermen cannot get to these waters fast enough.

If you knew the peril they go through, you would not eat fish from their catches so thoughtlessly.

The town of Daejeong is where Moseulpo, Marado, and Gapado are located. It is a harsh land, right up there with rocky Jeju Island yonder. Summers are simmering hot; winters are piercing with rough seas. They say Jeju is the windy island, but these winds are ruthless. The place isn’t called “Daejeong Mongsaengee (pigheaded)” for nothing.

Rice crops aren’t easy to raise in Jeju. Here, Daejeong is known as a veritable breadbasket, with sweet cabbages and tantalizing garlic.

Abundant rice seems like a blessing, but it’s anything but. Feeding the whole island leaves little for its own people. The lives of Mongsaengees are passed down through generations.

Through the past rapidly-changing half-century, the people of Daejeong caught their fish and harvested their crops. Completely oblivious to the tourism industry aiming at so many visitors’ wallets, the town remained relatively unchanged.

Any proper Jeju dweller will tell you that the chewy flesh of the fish caught from Daejeong is the best. During authoritarian times, if a politician hailing from Seoul happened to come to the area for a while, the finest red sea-bream or yellowtail would be on the dinner table that very night, along with some side-dishes of other seafood caught by a female diver.

The Moseulpo Bangeo Festival began in this way.

It all started when the Monsaengees finally woke up to the world of tourism. With some 20 fishing boats they made a business, and the whole town began selling accommodation for fishers before their big trips, as well as hands-on fishing for visitors. This was six years ago – the year 2001.

Business swelled with the dream of making the town the “best fishing town in the country,” and it prospered as the years passed.

Last year it reached its peak, and the festival was national in scale. There was the fact that Jeju Island had become a self-governing province, and they also wanted to celebrate the incorporation of Seogwipo City under Namjeju-gun. During this joyous event, the accident took place. The Daejeong Mongsaengees were devastated.

Marado is where Korea ends. The number of families here on record is 62, but only about 50 people actually reside on this small island.

Twenty-five minutes out of Moseulpo Port, we arrived on Marado. The midsummer sun was scorching. The coastline was chock full of black volcanic cliffs jutting 20 meters out of the water. The bluffs, eroded by the waves, are full of holes through which seawater spurts endlessly.

Pine trees growing on 500-meter latitude, 1300-meter longitude, and 4200-meter perimeter grasslands are the only trees to grow there. There is a lighthouse and solar panels on the tallest hill, and a village at the base of the hill.

The forest was once dense with trees, but after an arsonist set fire to the island after losing his fortune gambling in 1883, only grass covers the land.

A lone island, Marado is. If you’re expecting to answer the call of the wild sea, though, think again. The persistent nagging of electric carts rental employees will stop you in your tracks.

To those on their first trip here, this scene will undoubtedly disappoint. But getting around the island (which takes an hour on foot) in a cart is a novel experience.

Gapa elementary, of the Mara branch school inside the town, is a dreamy school. A western-style brick building with grassy playgrounds, the student here is valedictorian on any given day; because there is only one.

Stir-fried bean paste noodles, which become famous through a cell phone television commercial, are also a specialty in Marado. There are three restaurants selling the noodles, and minced steamed conch on top of the noodles is really tasty.

Passing by the chocolate museum, you can see the southernmost monument in front of the “General Rock.” Beyond a shallow hill, a fine vista unfolds. On the meadow, there’s the Marado chapel and beacon. Here you can finally see the real Marado. The wind whispers in your ears, the sea and sky dazzles your eyes. To the north you can see Mt. Songak and Mt. Sanbang on Jeju Island.

There are two kinds of people in this world. One sees misery at land’s end, and the other sees hope. During the bleak financial crisis of 1998, crowds flocked to Haenam – the end of the Korean peninsula.

People in agony, who could not find consolation anywhere else, found the end of the land and learned. They learned to return when they could go no further, and that the end is only the beginning.

Marado is the same, and that’s why the temples, churches, and chapels here are so beautiful. On a stone post in front of the church it says: “Porziuncola (meaning “small portion of land”).”

In 13th century Italy, a priest named Francisco realized the teachings of Christ and christened the chapel. Like this saint who found inspiration here and lived a beauteous life, let us hope that all who visit here find the same.