Percival Lowell's picture of a path near Seoul in the winter of 1883/84. Robert Neff Collection

Darkness once ruled the nights of Seoul. During the winter of 1883/84, Percival Lowell, a young American guest to the capital, was captivated by Seoul's dark nights where women were allowed free reign of the streets and men (unless they were blind) were confined to their homes.

He poetically wrote that if a visitor had the "chance to be abroad in the streets of [Seoul] in the gloaming [twilight], that lingering farewell of the day…" their eyes would invariably be drawn to the "towering form of Nam San, or the South Mountain. Dark, mighty, mysterious in the twilight" it looked poised "to fall upon and cover by night [the city it] guarded by day." He went on to add:

"Instinctively you watch [the mountain] as it slowly disappears into the growing darkness of the sky around. Just as it is lost in the gloom, and your look, freed from the spell, returns to the street, and a shudder creeps over you to find that all has become suddenly so dark, four little stars flash out where the top of the mountain lay a moment before. Poised so high in the heavens, they might well be the light from other worlds."

But these were not stars, they were watch-fires that were lit "not as warnings of danger, but as signs that throughout Korea all is security and peace." For fifteen minutes they burned, providing comfort to all who gazed upon them, and they then vanished again into the night.

The top of Namsan Mountain in the 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

Lowell's fascination with the night sky did not end in Korea. When he returned to the United States he founded the Lowell Observatory and played a key role in the discovery of Pluto – the planet that was but now isn't.

Another early visitor to Korea was Horace N. Allen. He arrived in Korea in 1884 as a missionary-doctor and left two decades later as the last American Minister to Joseon Korea. He also spoke about these lights on the mountain. He recalled that just as darkness approached, the city guards began to make preparations for closing the gates after the signal fires on Mongmyeoksan (Namsan or South Mountain) were received.

"For in order to know the state of affairs in the country, men were placed on convenient peaks in a line extending in from the borders and these watchmen would build their fires on seeing the flash of those beyond. When these nearer ones were seen by the watcher on the South Mountain at Seoul he would build the requisite number of fires on his little altars in full view of the city and the palace, whereupon four old gray-bearded officials would go in and bow to the floor before their ruler and announce the message of the fires, - that all was peaceful on the borders, or otherwise."

However, by the late 1890s, the closing of the gates and the signal fires on Namsan ceased to exist – both were victims of technology. The trolley system rendered it impractical to close the gates and the speed of the telegraph obsoleted the "picturesque" and comforting signal fires on the mountain. They are now remembered as only colorful anecdotes of Korea's past.

Visages of the past near the gold mine in 1961. Robert Neff Collection

In early 1960, Frederic Dustin, an American, supervised a gold mine in the mountainous region of North Jeolla Province. As part of his duties, he often wandered the surrounding countryside looking for possible mining sites. According to his notes, not everything he discovered was related to gold.

"It must have been early April or late March of 1961 (for the azaleas were blooming, their years of uninterrupted growth almost hiding the crumbled remains of my discovery) while on my searches for the locally storied fabulous ‘Mother Lode' that I came upon, high on a ridge some distance from our mine what appeared at first to be an ancient altar."

He described the "altar" as being some four or five meters across and encircled by a stone wall with a diameter of about twelve meters. Excited, he returned to the gold mine and asked the Korean miners if they knew what it was, but all disclaimed any knowledge of an "altar" on the mountain top.

Dustin was so determined to discover the origin of the "altar" that he actually approached the mine's nemesis – the elderly patriarch of the village – for information. The elderly gentleman, infamous for his gruff and demanding personality, stared at Dustin and then, somewhat dismissively, informed him it was not an altar but "a Bonghwadae (signal-fire site) – everybody knows that!!"

The community surrounding the gold mine in 1961. Robert Neff Collection

The old patriarch's answer "set [Dustin] to scheming" and he quickly developed "an idea that had to wait until times were right [for it] to be implemented." For over two decades Dustin waited and then, in 1982, the Korean government announced a plan to establish Pilgrimage Footpaths across the country. Dustin thought this was a great idea, but felt it could be improved. He proposed:

"Construct, in as direct a line as possible between each of these signal-fire sites, improved hiking trails that would stretch out from Seoul's Namsan in a great net-work to be called the Bongwhadae Trails System. [It would go] across valleys, up gorges, over mountain tops; across rivers and streams; skirt barley and rice fields and around villages and towns."

He was convinced that it could be done inexpensively if civic interest was aroused. Boy scouts could help establish the trails within their own provinces as a "wonderful summer experience." University students majoring in history could "find a great deal of enjoyment in working directly with a historic relic re-geared to the health and well-being of generations to come."

He envisioned these trails would appeal to international and domestic tourist – the latter group seems more likely as international travel for Koreans in the 1980s was difficult.

"Instead of thousands of students clamoring in the limited spaces of Mt. Seorak, Jiri and Halla, the roof-top of Korea would be open to them to spend their energies in really getting to know the country first hand."

He also suggested the trails could be adapted for use by bicyclists and, on Jeju, by horseback riders. Perhaps the best part of his proposal was the link to the 1988 Olympics.

"With the completion of the Bonghwadae Trails System in 1988, how dramatic it would be: as the Olympic Torch is lighted signaling the start of the Games in Seoul, Korea, across the country the Bonghwadae fires would reach into the sky once again sending their signals that all is well."

Dustin's dream of the Bonghwadae Trail System never became a reality – at least in the way he envisioned it. But aspects of it exist. Bicycle and hiking trails crisscross the peninsula, and Jeju is famed for the Olle Trails which provide enjoyment for countless numbers of people. Dustin died on May 5, 2018 and will always be remembered as a renaissance man.

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