Salt Harvesting Impossible Under the Daytime Sun... 'Salt and Sweat' Flow Even in the Evening [Workers in Crisis] 9

Labor Begins at Dusk Amid Scorching Heat
Surface Temperature on the Salt Field Reaches 35 Degrees
Dazed by Intense Radiant Heat

"If you work during the day, you'll be foaming at the mouth. You can't breathe at all."

At 6:30 p.m. on July 29, at the Gomso Salt Farm in Buan-gun, North Jeolla Province, the highest temperature during the day had reached 35 degrees Celsius, and even in the evening, it did not drop below 30 degrees. The sun was setting, but the salt farm was still filled with intense heat. This was because the salt had absorbed a great deal of sunlight throughout the day. Work began with everyone fully equipped?rubber boots, arm guards, gloves, and sunshields. Every part of the body was thoroughly covered and ready for work.

Our reporter (left) is collecting salt at Gomsal Salt Field in Buan-gun, Jeonbuk, on the 29th. Photo by Seungwook Park

Work at the salt farm takes place in the evening or early morning. This is because working under the midday sun could lead to heatstroke. Choi, who has worked here for 15 years, said, "It's so hot, you really have it tough. But when else will you get to harvest salt?" He added, "If it gets too hard, take a break. Don't overdo it." This salt farm covers an area of 49,586 square meters (about 15,000 pyeong) and produces about 5 tons of solar salt per day. Although it appeared peaceful at first glance, the moment you stepped onto the salt field, the hot steam and heat rising from the ground made it hard to breathe. The surface temperature of the salt field was actually 35 degrees. Walking on it felt like walking on fire.

At 7:00 p.m., the main salt harvesting began. The sun had not yet set. The red glow of the sunset stretched across the salt field, and golden light shimmered on the salt. The heat showed no sign of letting up. To scrape off the salt stuck to the bottom of the salt field, workers used two tools: a large "daepa" with a width of 180 cm and a smaller "sopa" with a width of 50 cm. Choi explained, "This is the daepa, and that's the sopa," as he took out the tools. In the Jeolla dialect, "pada" means to scrape. The reporter took the daepa and began scraping the bottom of the salt field with determination.

Our reporter was harvesting salt at Gomsal Salt Farm in Buan County, Jeonbuk, on the 29th. Photo by Seungwook Park

As soon as I started pushing the saltwater, I could feel the weight on my shoulders and a tingling in my arms. Salt saturated with bittern felt two to three times heavier than its actual weight. The salt pushed by the daepa spilled out to both sides, leaving wide marks on the ground like the parting of the Red Sea. However, this salt had to be gathered again. The workers said, "You have to push it so less salt escapes," and "It's not just about brute force."

After about 20 minutes of work, my body temperature kept rising. Sweat poured down like rain, and I could no longer wear the sunshield. The sunlight reflected off the salt was still scorching, even in the evening. With the sun above and radiant heat coming from all directions below, I felt dizzy. Unable to stand the heat, I threw off my hat and gloves. But my hands kept slipping on the daepa, so I had no choice but to put the gloves back on.

Even as the sky grew dark, the air remained hot. The sun was setting, but the salt field showed no sign of cooling down. The white crystals beneath my feet glowed like their own little suns, radiating heat. After 40 minutes of work, my legs were shaking, and after about an hour, even my hands wouldn't obey. When I checked my hands, I found blisters had formed. The amount of salt I collected from two panels was about 1.2 tons.

A salt farm worker is harvesting salt at Gomsosalt Farm in Buan County, Jeonbuk, on the 29th. Photo by Seungwook Park

At 8:30 p.m., the work of moving the gathered salt using carts continued. Four people together used a salt-harvesting machine to push the salt collected from seven panels. The workers explained, "Now we have automated machines, but in the past, everything was done with shovels." Ten carts were used, and about 5 tons of salt were harvested. The carts loaded with salt then had to be moved along rails.

I started pushing the cart. My legs felt weak, and sweat ran down my back. It took my whole body just to move the cart a single span. After pushing once or twice, my boots were soaked in brine. Every time I lost my balance, my feet sank into the water, and pain shot through my lower back.

At 9:30 p.m., after moving the carts, I turned around to see the night sky stretching beyond the salt field. As the day at the salt farm was coming to an end, I grabbed the daepa again. My body was exhausted, but there was still work to be done. To produce high-quality salt the next day, the salt panels needed to be thoroughly cleaned. Only after pushing away the remaining brine did the day's work at the salt farm finally end.

On the way back to the lodging, my sweat-soaked clothes were already stiff with salt. The salty smell and stickiness clinging to my body would not come off easily. It was the lingering trace of the intense heat, the heavy carts, and the relentless labor with no time to rest.

A reporter from this publication is holding salt collected on the 29th at Gomsal Salt Farm in Buan County, Jeonbuk. Photo by Seungwook Park

The moment water splashed from the shower, my whole body stung. My skin, worn out from a whole day of sun, salt, and sweat, told the story of the day's hardship. Only then could I truly understand the depth of the saying, "Harvesting salt is like life itself. Nothing in this world is easy."

Salt farm labor was more than just producing salt. It was a constant battle against the fierce forces of nature. Under the fierce balance of sun, heat, wind, and salt, the workers silently endured each day. Even though the work was done at night to avoid the sun, the nights here were not cool. It was a time when the weight of labor pressed down on the entire body.

Choi said, "To make quality salt, you need the right wind and sunlight," and added, "Every grain of salt we make contains our lives and sweat." Just as he said, the salt here was not just a simple seasoning. It was a crystallization of the workers' sweat, endurance, and relentless struggle with nature.

It was only after 10:00 p.m. that the lights of the salt farm gradually went out and darkness filled the space. Yet even in this darkness, tomorrow's labor was already waiting to begin. Today's sun had set, but the shadow of labor still lingered heavily.