Treasures along the River: Guardian trees of Anyang

An image of the Grandfather Tree is seen on a nearby signboard at the site.

By Robert Neff

Trees are often in the background ― ignored as merely props and decorations ― in the image, but sometimes they are the story. Robert Neff Collection

On July 8, 1977, Mother Nature unleashed her fury upon the Anyang region with more than 46 centimeters of rain within a short period of time ― most of the rain fell in only five hours. The devastation was overwhelming as mudslides and floods destroyed villages, wiped away over 100 bridges and killed and injured hundreds of people.

Very few places in the region escaped unharmed but no lives were lost in Sammak Village. Many people attribute this to the Grandfather and Grandmother Trees ― the village's two arboreal guardians.

The Grandfather Tree, a zelkova, stands along one of the village's streams ― a position it has occupied for more than 500 years. A picture on a nearby signboard shows the tree in its former glory ― somewhat majestic with a canopy of leaves ― but my visit in early February revealed only the crippled remains, propped up and surrounded by a small fence and modernization.

A couple of benches sit at its foot, a cool refuge for hikers during the heat of summer or a resting place for the elderly on their morning walks. Like others before me, I accepted the unspoken offer, sat down on one of the benches and gazed up at it. Surely, whispers of the past once rustled its leaves ― whispers that were heard only by those it deemed worthy. Sadly, I did not pass the test and was left to my own imagination to recreate the events this great tree had witnessed.

The Grandfather Tree in February 2023 Robert Neff Collection

When it was just a sapling, King Jungjong had ascended the Korean throne (r. 1506-44) and instituted much-needed reforms to the peninsula. According to Homer Hulbert, Jungjong's first proclamation was along the lines of:

"The most important thing in any country is the common people. If the people prosper the country prospers, if they suffer the country suffers. The late King [Yeonsangun] was cruel and lawless, and so by the people's will I have become King. I have ordered the discontinuance of the civil customs that have prevailed and I shall do all in my power for the people. Let everyone rejoice."

He did away with houghing (hamstringing) thieves, limited the amount of torture that could be administered to witnesses and the accused, and prohibited "the custom of punishing by striking the legs with short, thick clubs … for this process was almost sure to shatter the bone."

He revitalized the military and suppressed an invasion from Tsushima in which "three thousand [of the invaders] were soon put hors de combat and many hundreds were chased into the sea where they were drowned."

The Grandmother Tree is on the left and her companion ginkgo tree is on the right. Robert Neff Collection

Hulbert's pen also tells us that in the king's eagerness to rebuild his military that he had a great copper image of Buddha brought to Seoul from Gyeongju and had it broken up and melted so as to make weapons for his soldiers. This last act angered many. The Buddhist image was believed to act as a fertility aid and many feared that the destruction of a religious article of such importance would reap misfortune upon the country. The king assured the people that he would be held solely responsible for the act.

Hulbert was quick to point out that "the reign of this king was marked by severe disturbances" including a severe earthquake that ― with its aftershocks ― lasted over "a period of four days and [caused] much loss of life and property."

Jungjong reigned for nearly four decades before passing from the mortal realm in 1544. In 1905, Homer gushed that Jungjong had lifted the kingdom "out of the mire into which it had been trodden by his predecessor, and brought to the highest point of morals, of literature and of general culture that it has ever reached."

This was the era in which the Grandfather Tree took root but as it grew the events on the peninsula changed rapidly. There were invasions, regime changes, natural disasters and ― for a period ― a loss of sovereignty. The tree weathered all of these events and seemingly sheltered all of those who dwelt around it from any harm.

Although the Grandmother Tree is dead, her image still conveys life ― dancing in the strong mountain winds and reaching up for the elusive heat of the winter sun in February 2023. Robert Neff Collection

According to legend (and a nearby signboard), the tree is able to protect itself from those who do not honor it. Just after the 1950-53 Korean War, an American soldier foraging for wood came upon the tree. The villagers warned him not to molest it but the soldier, through his own arrogance, ignored them and cut some branches from the tree. That night a fire roared through his camp and caused a great deal of destruction. The cause of the fire was never determined but the villagers are convinced it was the tree exacting its revenge.

The Grandfather Tree is not alone. A very short distance away is the Grandmother Tree ― a juniper. Like him, she is old and gnarled, but life no longer flows through her roots. Much about her ― including her age ― is unknown. A signboard reveals that she once stood at the head of the village but during the great flood of 1977, she was uprooted and floated to her present position. She was replanted alongside a large ginkgo tree ― perhaps to provide her with companionship.

Alas, the trauma caused by the flood appears to have been too much for her and she has withered away. There is beauty in her form but there is also a degree of loneliness ― despite her ginkgo companion.

While I was amongst the two guardians, I was rather surprised to see the mobs of elderly hikers passing by without even glancing at these two witnesses of the past. For the most part, they are forgotten, remembered only by the handful of villagers who still honor them on the first of July and October (lunar calendar) or by a lone bicyclist eager to listen to the whispers of the past.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.