The river port of Yongsan in the late 19th century / Robert Neff Collection

Central Seoul’s busy Yongsan District, was one of the busiest ports on the Han River, back in the late 1880s when it was south of the capital. A large bluff dominated the scene, “mantled to the very top” with the village’s crude homes and the “red brick Catholic Seminary.” At the foot of the village lay the steamship landing, where one or two diminutive riverboats, their engines belching black smoke, plied their trade to and from the seaport of Jemulpo (modern-day Incheon). For much of the year, the port bustled with activity, ruled by farmers, merchants and sailors. However, in winter, when the river froze solid, the Korean fishing boats, ferries and transports were beached and the steamships stayed in Jemulpo seeking dubious sanctuary from the elements. That’s when the region became the domain of Korean fishermen and Western hunters.

One of these Western hunters was Dalzell A. Bunker, a young American teacher who had arrived in Korea in the summer of 1886. On a late autumn afternoon in 1887, armed with his shotgun and accompanied by his kisu (Korean guard) carrying Bunker’s repeating rifle, they walked the 5 kilometers to Yongsan — likely without arousing much attention from the villagers, who had long since grown jaded to the appearance of a Westerner.

They made their way along the river to “a cluster of houses where lumber was cut and timbers prepared” and near “a clump of splendid, great beech trees.” Here lay a well-known hunting ground located at a bend in the river that remained ice-free even in the coldest winters, when the ice elsewhere was more than 20 cm thick. It was believed that warm springs in the river created this oasis of open water, where waterfowl — such as ducks and swans — fed throughout the winter. (While the river has changed over the past century, this spot was located near the present northern end of the Hangang Railroad Bridge).

The Han River is frozen........

© The Korea Times