Seoraksan's Autumn colours on display
October 19, 2004
Breakfast in the Mountains followed by a hot Spa and luxury hotel
Sleeping in a mountain shelter in Korea is not something I’d recommend to anyone who is a) taller than 5’6”; b) wider than a knitting needle; c) not partial to unpleasant smells; d) claustrophobic or e) liable to overheating. Given that claustrophobia is the only one not applicable to me, you can safely assume that it was an interesting night. Fortunately, I had a window birth so was able to do something about c and e…otherwise, I fear I may have smothered and sweated to death. What I couldn’t believe were the number of people snuggled up in four season sleeping bags, fully-clothed and not a bead of sweat in sight! Suffice to say, the motto of mountain shelters in this neck of the woods is ‘Pack ‘em in and pile ‘em high’. Still for the princely sum of £2.50 and the lack of hassle of pitching a tent, I was not complaining.
The following morning, whilst cooking noodles for breakfast, my stove again drew some attention. Two Seoulites, whose own noodles (purchased from the shelter staff) were not hot enough, asked if they might use my stove to reheat them. This certainly wasn’t a problem as far as I was concerned and as we waited for them to heat through, I got talking to one of them. At the age of 62, it turned out, he had boarded a bus at 10pm the previous evening in Seoul, which had brought him an his companions to Osaek for 2am. At this point they had set out up the peak (which had thus far defeated me) and walked through the night to my shelter. After breakfast, they were to head down to my start-point of Seorak-dong for about 3pm, where their coach would pick them up and take them home. Sixty-two years old! At an age where many people in our country are happy to mince around in Bognor Regis, receive honours from the Queen or take cruises round the Baltic, the Koreans are keeping the spirit of the outdoor life well and truly alive. Over the course of my two days in the park, I saw countless wizened elders hauling their doubled-over forms up and down steep mountain tracks. Amazing people…Mr. Kang, for that was his name, and I talked for about half an hour – about the differences and similarities between our two countries and cultures. I had at some point expressed an interest in returning to Korea, perhaps to teach English. At the end of our conversation, as he was about to continue his trek, he pulled out a business card and asked me to call him if I ever did come back to Korea…he might be able to help me out with accommodation or in some other way. I was totally gobsmacked! I say it right now…the Koreans are the salt of the earth. I had done as little as to heat up some noodles on my stove and this man was offering to return the favour a thousand-fold. I was touched - and genuinely sad that our paths lay in opposite directions.
With this positive start to the day, I set off up the trail with a bounce in my stride. The sun was back in business and the physical exertions of the previous day seemed to fade like all bad memories. The mountain scenery was, again, breath-taking and the hike felt easy once again. However, after an hour of pure unadulterated climb, I was beginning to remember. Fortunately, this was pretty much it as far as going up was concerned. I ‘summitted’ (sorry, been reading Jon Krakenauer’s ‘Into Thin Air’ and the Himalayan terminology is infectious) at around 11.30 and felt triumphant. This feeling slowly dissipated over the course of the following 2 ½ hours, as the steep, gruelling descent took its toll on my overladen thighs and calves. By the end, every step was agony and the sight of Osaek nestling in the valley at the foot of the mountain was most welcome.
At this point, after my arduous mountain experiences, I was fully in need of some luxury and pampering. My ‘budget traveller in Asia’ status, took a long walk off a short pier and I booked myself in to the Osaek Green Yard Hotsprings Hotel. This deluxe spa, hosting the premier carbonated hot springs in the world, is top of the list of luxury hotels. I took a palatal suite of three bedrooms, kitchenette and bathroom – all for the princely sum of £40…and immediately got naked with a bunch of strangers as I introduced myself to the idea of carbonated hot water. Not sure about the beneficial effects to health – most of which were phrased in Hangeul (and thus totally indecipherable), but the soothing effect of the hot, slightly effervescent water on my screaming muscles was nothing short of pure bliss.
The following morning, whilst cooking noodles for breakfast, my stove again drew some attention. Two Seoulites, whose own noodles (purchased from the shelter staff) were not hot enough, asked if they might use my stove to reheat them. This certainly wasn’t a problem as far as I was concerned and as we waited for them to heat through, I got talking to one of them. At the age of 62, it turned out, he had boarded a bus at 10pm the previous evening in Seoul, which had brought him an his companions to Osaek for 2am. At this point they had set out up the peak (which had thus far defeated me) and walked through the night to my shelter. After breakfast, they were to head down to my start-point of Seorak-dong for about 3pm, where their coach would pick them up and take them home. Sixty-two years old! At an age where many people in our country are happy to mince around in Bognor Regis, receive honours from the Queen or take cruises round the Baltic, the Koreans are keeping the spirit of the outdoor life well and truly alive. Over the course of my two days in the park, I saw countless wizened elders hauling their doubled-over forms up and down steep mountain tracks. Amazing people…Mr. Kang, for that was his name, and I talked for about half an hour – about the differences and similarities between our two countries and cultures. I had at some point expressed an interest in returning to Korea, perhaps to teach English. At the end of our conversation, as he was about to continue his trek, he pulled out a business card and asked me to call him if I ever did come back to Korea…he might be able to help me out with accommodation or in some other way. I was totally gobsmacked! I say it right now…the Koreans are the salt of the earth. I had done as little as to heat up some noodles on my stove and this man was offering to return the favour a thousand-fold. I was touched - and genuinely sad that our paths lay in opposite directions.
With this positive start to the day, I set off up the trail with a bounce in my stride. The sun was back in business and the physical exertions of the previous day seemed to fade like all bad memories. The mountain scenery was, again, breath-taking and the hike felt easy once again. However, after an hour of pure unadulterated climb, I was beginning to remember. Fortunately, this was pretty much it as far as going up was concerned. I ‘summitted’ (sorry, been reading Jon Krakenauer’s ‘Into Thin Air’ and the Himalayan terminology is infectious) at around 11.30 and felt triumphant. This feeling slowly dissipated over the course of the following 2 ½ hours, as the steep, gruelling descent took its toll on my overladen thighs and calves. By the end, every step was agony and the sight of Osaek nestling in the valley at the foot of the mountain was most welcome.
At this point, after my arduous mountain experiences, I was fully in need of some luxury and pampering. My ‘budget traveller in Asia’ status, took a long walk off a short pier and I booked myself in to the Osaek Green Yard Hotsprings Hotel. This deluxe spa, hosting the premier carbonated hot springs in the world, is top of the list of luxury hotels. I took a palatal suite of three bedrooms, kitchenette and bathroom – all for the princely sum of £40…and immediately got naked with a bunch of strangers as I introduced myself to the idea of carbonated hot water. Not sure about the beneficial effects to health – most of which were phrased in Hangeul (and thus totally indecipherable), but the soothing effect of the hot, slightly effervescent water on my screaming muscles was nothing short of pure bliss.
October 18, 2004
I don’t know if you guys can see the different colours of the rainbow in my photo of the pre-dawn sky, but I couldn’t keep my chin off the floor as I watched it transform through many stages into the birth of the sun through a thick bank of cloud on the horizon. As the first glimpse of nascent day broke through, the deep red glow was like a touch-paper setting fire to the stratosphere. Truly, bloody amazing…and in complete contrast to the clear-sky dawn of the previous day. The locals were every bit as impressed – many bowing, waving and shouting as on the beach at Sokcho. At the Buddhist shrine, just of the peak, bells were chiming and monks chanting. Yet again, the mountains felt like a magical, fairytale place. Before heading back down, I fuelled up with an octopus and mountain leek pancake and a cup of fresh-ground coffee. Even for breakfast, the Koreans don’t wimp out on the chillies…I had to go back and ask for soy sauce without peppers as I broke into a full bead in the mountain-fresh air.
Back at ground-level, thoroughly energised by this fantastic start to the day, I was eager for the off. I stopped to pay my respects to Buddha and fill up my water bottles before caning off down the track for Dongchaebong. This peak is also known as Seorak and is at the very heart of the park. At 10km to the peak and 5km down the other side to Osaek, I was confident with my early start that I’d be able to push through to the other side in a day. This would leave me time to sample some of the sights of Inner Seorak, where there were supposed to be fewer tourists. The first 2km (on the flat) disappeared in no time and my confidence was soaring. However, I had failed to reckon with the sheer amount of up and down to come…and the ridiculous weight of my pack. After 8km in steadily worsening weather conditions, I was becoming genuinely exhausted and desperately seeking an alternative plan. The first mountain shelter I came to was full up for the night (how the hell a foreign tourist is supposed to book in advance, I’ll never know! The reservation line is Korean-speaking only) and I had to go a gruelling further two miles (including 900m of ascent) until I found a shelter with room. A local couple very kindly took pity on me when I was having no luck understanding the shelter staff…they kindly intervened and ensured that my spot was booked. Their helpful attitude towards a bemused, and obviously distressed, foreigner was entirely indicative of the attitude displayed by all Koreans…it’s a very welcoming place. It was only 1 o’clock in the afternoon, but I was bedraggled and knackered and I had no intention of taking another step. After a cup of hot tea, I noticed to my delight that many of the groups sat around the shelter were cooking on gas stoves. The signs around the park made it quite clear in three languages that there were to be no fires or cooking except in designated areas. Of course, the signs denoting the designated areas were only in Korean. Out came the Primas Himalayan Varifuel, MSR fuel bottle and Vango cookset. Cue mass excitement among the local ‘mountaineers’ (these could be distinguished from all the other elderly Koreans by means of the costumes I mentioned earlier). As I pumped the fuel bottle and whipped out my Zippo (Brother!) they stood waiting with bated breath. As is the way with liquid fuel stoves, the pre-heating coil took time to warm up. The flaring two foot yellow flames brought looks of sympathy from my audience and offers to use their natty little camping Gaz efforts. ‘Nay!’ I proclaimed, ‘Have patience, my good fellows!’ – actually, I didn’t…but in retrospect I wish I’d had the confidence to do so ;-) – sure enough, after a couple of minutes, the flames tightened into a hot, blue cone and, with a flourish I settled my pan of water on top. I actually got a round of applause and several of them came over to chat and discuss my thoughts on Korea.
Two pans of noodles and tinned tuna later, I was feeling remarkably upbeat in spite of my sorry physical state.
Back at ground-level, thoroughly energised by this fantastic start to the day, I was eager for the off. I stopped to pay my respects to Buddha and fill up my water bottles before caning off down the track for Dongchaebong. This peak is also known as Seorak and is at the very heart of the park. At 10km to the peak and 5km down the other side to Osaek, I was confident with my early start that I’d be able to push through to the other side in a day. This would leave me time to sample some of the sights of Inner Seorak, where there were supposed to be fewer tourists. The first 2km (on the flat) disappeared in no time and my confidence was soaring. However, I had failed to reckon with the sheer amount of up and down to come…and the ridiculous weight of my pack. After 8km in steadily worsening weather conditions, I was becoming genuinely exhausted and desperately seeking an alternative plan. The first mountain shelter I came to was full up for the night (how the hell a foreign tourist is supposed to book in advance, I’ll never know! The reservation line is Korean-speaking only) and I had to go a gruelling further two miles (including 900m of ascent) until I found a shelter with room. A local couple very kindly took pity on me when I was having no luck understanding the shelter staff…they kindly intervened and ensured that my spot was booked. Their helpful attitude towards a bemused, and obviously distressed, foreigner was entirely indicative of the attitude displayed by all Koreans…it’s a very welcoming place. It was only 1 o’clock in the afternoon, but I was bedraggled and knackered and I had no intention of taking another step. After a cup of hot tea, I noticed to my delight that many of the groups sat around the shelter were cooking on gas stoves. The signs around the park made it quite clear in three languages that there were to be no fires or cooking except in designated areas. Of course, the signs denoting the designated areas were only in Korean. Out came the Primas Himalayan Varifuel, MSR fuel bottle and Vango cookset. Cue mass excitement among the local ‘mountaineers’ (these could be distinguished from all the other elderly Koreans by means of the costumes I mentioned earlier). As I pumped the fuel bottle and whipped out my Zippo (Brother!) they stood waiting with bated breath. As is the way with liquid fuel stoves, the pre-heating coil took time to warm up. The flaring two foot yellow flames brought looks of sympathy from my audience and offers to use their natty little camping Gaz efforts. ‘Nay!’ I proclaimed, ‘Have patience, my good fellows!’ – actually, I didn’t…but in retrospect I wish I’d had the confidence to do so ;-) – sure enough, after a couple of minutes, the flames tightened into a hot, blue cone and, with a flourish I settled my pan of water on top. I actually got a round of applause and several of them came over to chat and discuss my thoughts on Korea.
Two pans of noodles and tinned tuna later, I was feeling remarkably upbeat in spite of my sorry physical state.
Mountain Dawn
Apart from a few minor disturbances by squirrels and falling leaves / twigs, I slept reasonably soundly through until about 3.15 – and felt well rested.
Got up about 4ish and decamped, taking all my rubbish with me and replacing the rocks I’d used to weigh down my pegs in the sand. As I strolled up to the cable car at 5.10, intent on being head of the queue to see the sunrise, I found that you have to get out of bed very early in the morning to catch the Koreans out. There were at least 100 people already waiting patiently for the doors to open for the 6.00 car. Fortunately, another great thing about Korean culture is the obsession with punctuality. I boarded the 6.10 car and was in my chosen spot on the eastern side of the peak in plenty of time to watch the sky catch fire.
Got up about 4ish and decamped, taking all my rubbish with me and replacing the rocks I’d used to weigh down my pegs in the sand. As I strolled up to the cable car at 5.10, intent on being head of the queue to see the sunrise, I found that you have to get out of bed very early in the morning to catch the Koreans out. There were at least 100 people already waiting patiently for the doors to open for the 6.00 car. Fortunately, another great thing about Korean culture is the obsession with punctuality. I boarded the 6.10 car and was in my chosen spot on the eastern side of the peak in plenty of time to watch the sky catch fire.
October 17, 2004
Back down in the village, with night fully drawn in, sneaking off down the track to my intended camping spot was no great drama. After ensconcing myself under the trees, about fifty yards off the track, I sat and waited for a while. As I grew accustomed to the quiet swaying of the trees in the wind, it became apparent that I was probably the only person left in the park. I pitched my tent (reasonably well in the dark!) on the sandbank of a dried-up water course and settled down to sleep at about 8.30.
Seoraksan - The Enchanted Mountains
Coming up the valley in the bus gently breaks you into the Seoraksan experience…lumps become mounds, which turn into craggy hills which unmistakably become rugged mountains. The enormous amount of traffic along the road to Seorak-dong meant I had plenty of time to appreciate the views. This most-popular of national parks certainly lives up to the hype and it’s easy to understand why Koreans flock to it in their droves. I can’t imagine it’s not popular with foreign tourists too, but perhaps more likely during the summer months. I remember seeing about 3 Caucasian people in Seorak-dong – the tourist village situated on the Eastern edge of the park.
After some light refreshment and jettisoning my computer and other unnecessaries at the luggage depot, I set off on a gentle stroll to warm myself up for future exertions. The Two Waterfalls walk is relatively easy-going and gives you a full appreciation of the beauty of the valley scenery. The autumn hues (my main reason for visiting Korea) were not disappointing and the falls themselves had a fairytale appeal…a theme that was to arise repeatedly on my treks.
By the time I got back to the village, I was certainly feeling the weight of my pack in the glorious sunshine (25C). I took the opportunity to refresh myself again (yes, two cans of beer does count as refreshment…in Australia at least). Whilst sitting in the shade, I became aware of the number of people staring at me and my pack. I must admit, I’ve never really been one to notice how much smaller than me other people are…but it certainly wasn’t escaping the locals’ attention. Several came to talk to me about my plans and ask me how big I was and how much my pack weighed. The Koreans, renowned for being keen on their outdoor pursuits, are in fact totally mad for it! They wanted to know where I got my boots from, how much my rucksack could hold, what equipment I had with me. Withdrawing my Leatherman from my pocket brought much pursing of lips and whistling. I began to notice how many of them wore North Face and Berghaus gear…and how new and shiny much of it was. To top it off, there were more leki poles on display than on a Bank Holiday Sunday in Windermere. There certainly seems to be a large element of competition and fashion parade in the Koreans’ weekend escapes to the hills. After posing for a few photos (one lady insisted on returning the favour!) with various vertically-challenged and awestruck, would-be alpinists, I tired of the attention and decided to go and investigate some more of the locality in the hopes of finding a camping spot for later. I must tell you that camping in the National Parks is strictly forbidden…but that’s never stopped me before, and those who’ve camped with me will know that I’m an eco-friendly camper and that I always leave everything exactly as I’ve found it. Korea is such a rule-based society, so conformist, that I don’t think it would ever occur to the Rangers to look out for campers if it’s forbidden. I identified a couple of spots, not too far off the beaten track for later.
Last activity of the day was to take the cable car up to the top of Gwongeumseong. This vantage point and the cable car are ideal for capturing the stunning local scenery, without exerting too much effort. I still wasn’t entirely ready to get stuck into any serious hiking with my pack - and hoped to catch the sun setting over the mountains as an incentive to my coming exertions.
It was insanely windy on top and, while the views back over Sokcho and into the mountains were incredible, none of my photos quite did them justice. In the growing dusk, the jagged peaks and darkening valleys took on a surreal, enchanted aspect. Strings of lights identified the pockets of civilisation hunkering down for an evening round the television or karaoke box…from this I felt very remote, immersed in the mountains and their magical atmosphere.
After some light refreshment and jettisoning my computer and other unnecessaries at the luggage depot, I set off on a gentle stroll to warm myself up for future exertions. The Two Waterfalls walk is relatively easy-going and gives you a full appreciation of the beauty of the valley scenery. The autumn hues (my main reason for visiting Korea) were not disappointing and the falls themselves had a fairytale appeal…a theme that was to arise repeatedly on my treks.
By the time I got back to the village, I was certainly feeling the weight of my pack in the glorious sunshine (25C). I took the opportunity to refresh myself again (yes, two cans of beer does count as refreshment…in Australia at least). Whilst sitting in the shade, I became aware of the number of people staring at me and my pack. I must admit, I’ve never really been one to notice how much smaller than me other people are…but it certainly wasn’t escaping the locals’ attention. Several came to talk to me about my plans and ask me how big I was and how much my pack weighed. The Koreans, renowned for being keen on their outdoor pursuits, are in fact totally mad for it! They wanted to know where I got my boots from, how much my rucksack could hold, what equipment I had with me. Withdrawing my Leatherman from my pocket brought much pursing of lips and whistling. I began to notice how many of them wore North Face and Berghaus gear…and how new and shiny much of it was. To top it off, there were more leki poles on display than on a Bank Holiday Sunday in Windermere. There certainly seems to be a large element of competition and fashion parade in the Koreans’ weekend escapes to the hills. After posing for a few photos (one lady insisted on returning the favour!) with various vertically-challenged and awestruck, would-be alpinists, I tired of the attention and decided to go and investigate some more of the locality in the hopes of finding a camping spot for later. I must tell you that camping in the National Parks is strictly forbidden…but that’s never stopped me before, and those who’ve camped with me will know that I’m an eco-friendly camper and that I always leave everything exactly as I’ve found it. Korea is such a rule-based society, so conformist, that I don’t think it would ever occur to the Rangers to look out for campers if it’s forbidden. I identified a couple of spots, not too far off the beaten track for later.
Last activity of the day was to take the cable car up to the top of Gwongeumseong. This vantage point and the cable car are ideal for capturing the stunning local scenery, without exerting too much effort. I still wasn’t entirely ready to get stuck into any serious hiking with my pack - and hoped to catch the sun setting over the mountains as an incentive to my coming exertions.
It was insanely windy on top and, while the views back over Sokcho and into the mountains were incredible, none of my photos quite did them justice. In the growing dusk, the jagged peaks and darkening valleys took on a surreal, enchanted aspect. Strings of lights identified the pockets of civilisation hunkering down for an evening round the television or karaoke box…from this I felt very remote, immersed in the mountains and their magical atmosphere.
October 16, 2004
I wondered into town in search of supplies (fuel, noodles, chocolate, energy drinks etc.) and found that, despite scratching beneath the surface, Sokcho was still a pit. Got the necessary, packed up and moved out shortly before twelve. My notorious appetite insisted that I bolster myself for later exertions before catching the bus, so I stopped in at, literally, the first restaurant next to the hotel. It turned out to be a milestone in my Korean adventures. Whilst many helpful people had ensured I caught the correct bus and directed me to various sights, I had yet to have a conversation with a Korean. I think it must be incredibly difficult for Koreans to speak English – for a start some phoneme differentiations in our language, don’t even exist in theirs (‘f’ and ‘p’ for starters…my Korean name being Pin ;-) hmmm…). Then of course there’s the matter of an entirely different alphabet. This notwithstanding, many Koreans are more than competent speakers – and keen to practise their skills given the slightest opportunity. I put my lack of chat thus far down to the usual Big City syndrome in Seoul and my own reticence. Anyway, I digress…
I sat down opposite an elderly gentleman, who observed me offloading the 20kg pack and immediately piped up with, ‘Are you true Alpinist?’ I was so chuffed that he had obviously recognised me for what I am (er, no laughing at the back) that I responded ‘Yes!’ and immediately launched into my plans for hiking around Seoraksan Park. He was genuinely interested in my thoughts on Korea and how it compared to ‘Scoterland’ and ‘Engerland’. Between recommending what to eat (he wouldn’t let me have what he was eating, as he thought it would be too fiery for my delicate European palate…I never learn, eh?) and haranguing the proprietress to hurry up on my behalf, we talked about his children (both studying in the States) and his love for the local countryside. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say and really made me feel at home for the first time in Korea. Thus far, I had quite happily taken in all the new experiences and kind of adapted to the ‘outsider’ experience. Those who know me well, will agree that above most things, I love to talk. Having spent most of the preceding five days saying very little, this moment was eagerly accepted – and I was truly sorry to see him leave. I now felt that I had begun my transition from tourist to traveller…
I sat down opposite an elderly gentleman, who observed me offloading the 20kg pack and immediately piped up with, ‘Are you true Alpinist?’ I was so chuffed that he had obviously recognised me for what I am (er, no laughing at the back) that I responded ‘Yes!’ and immediately launched into my plans for hiking around Seoraksan Park. He was genuinely interested in my thoughts on Korea and how it compared to ‘Scoterland’ and ‘Engerland’. Between recommending what to eat (he wouldn’t let me have what he was eating, as he thought it would be too fiery for my delicate European palate…I never learn, eh?) and haranguing the proprietress to hurry up on my behalf, we talked about his children (both studying in the States) and his love for the local countryside. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say and really made me feel at home for the first time in Korea. Thus far, I had quite happily taken in all the new experiences and kind of adapted to the ‘outsider’ experience. Those who know me well, will agree that above most things, I love to talk. Having spent most of the preceding five days saying very little, this moment was eagerly accepted – and I was truly sorry to see him leave. I now felt that I had begun my transition from tourist to traveller…
For all intents and purposes, Sokcho was nothing more than a staging post for my foray into the mountains of Soraksan. I stayed in some sort of honeymoon hotel (red lighting in the boudoir, castle accoutrements adorning the building’s exterior etc.) and enjoyed a relaxing evening watching Tarantino’s Four Rooms and White Men Can’t Jump on videos supplied free by the hotel. As you can see from the photos, getting up at 6.15 was well and truly worth it! The sky was utterly devoid of cloud and there was not a breath of wind as the sun exploded onto the horizon. I love my colours - particularly those derived from clouds – but there was something compelling about this pure, unadulterated sunbirth that took my breath away. Along the beach, locals and Korean tourists paid their respects to the lifegiving sun. Some knelt silently, head bowed to the sand; others shouted greetings and waved…all very pagan, but in a society that is still mainly agricultural or weather-dependent (for fishing etc.), not altogether surprising. Whatever the backdrop, I felt I had witnessed something truly special and felt energised for the day ahead.
Sokcho - The Perfect Dawn
Arriving in Sokcho, you could be forgiven for assuming that nuclear apocalypse was no longer a future threat from nearby North Korea, but had in fact just happened. However, as we all know, you should never judge a book by its cover. In the harsh light of day, there is no denying that this sprawling fishing port is anything other than a total dump. Even by night, it leaves a lot to be desired…however, weather allowing and (obviously!) looking in the right direction (i.e. away from the city), dawn here is as beautiful and breath-taking sight as I’ve ever seen it.
October 15, 2004
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)