Seoraksan National Park is touted as the most beautiful in Korea and Monika and I took the summer break as an opportunity to explore it along with millions of other Koreans.
Most Koreans have their summer holidays in the same week, which is usually the hottest and most humid in the midst of a sticky monsoon season. In a country of 50 million people many leave the cities en masses tangling the roads even further and taking their noise and congestion out to the mountains and the coast.
We also headed up to the north east of the country where the land is protected from the sea by razor wire fences and young boys bearing scary looking pieces of firepower. At this time of the year portions of the fences are unlocked and Korean tourists and corporate advertisers flock to the edge of the country hiding from the sun under umbrellas and protected from the ocean by inflatable yellow tubes.
It's a strange thing not to be allowed to swim out more than 20 metres or so, swimming itself an oddity and my bodysurfing attempts greeted with reprimanding puzzlement. I wonder if the rope keeps me from the dangers of the sea or the North Koreans and again how much of this is propaganda and how much real threat. At night the pier is barriered off, those attempting to cross are followed by a blinding spotlight which continually sweeps the sea and the waters edge.
Heading out to the national park Monika and I plan a three day hike across which entails going over the peak. Friends have said that an hour or two past the main touristy bit the park will be deserted, but this is the peak of high season and we find ourselves part of a noisy pilgrimage.
The first day is beautiful. Stunning. Adjectives fail me and how amazing this piece of country is. We follow the river in, climbing slowly, oohs and ahs following thick upon each other as each turn becomes more scenic. Huge granite boulders line the river, water clearer than I have ever seen, the visibility unseemingly affected by depth. The river is a series of icy pools, tinged green in places by the natural colouring of the rock and refreshingly cool and yummy to drink. The forest climbs up steeply on either side but following the river our path is gradual, the rocky crags a long way off staring imposingly down at us like something out of Tolkien.
We spend the night at a shelter, 6 women crammed into a tiny room, feast on ramien, the korean version of instant noodles, and sleep little. Day two is straight up. The walk is divided in two by a shelter. We start off climbing steeply up an orange metal staircase of which there are many in the park, instantly taking us 100metres or so higher. The vegatation changes as the
topography gets steeper, chasing long waterfalls andmoving under the shade of the forest. The people population seems to have become more dense as has the number of tame chipmunks looking for an easy feed. After a two hour challenging hike we stop at a shelter for lunch and to soak weary feet in the river.
It is only supposed to be another two hours to the summit but it looks an awfully long way up as we take off again up another orange staircase. The angle of incline averages between 50 and 70 degrees, more often than not closer to the latter. Our morale drops as the brutal climb takes us higher and higher, displaying ever more spectacular views yet we seem further
removed from the peak. Trying to distract ourselves from one step in front of the other we play games with songs but get little further than "The only way is up". We play tag teams with other hikers as my joking premonitions of walking 10 minutes, resting 10 minutes turn into 5 minute intervals and we slip stream against each other like long distance cyclists.
Eventually we wobble up to little peak, the first of three peaks along a ridge. The view is amazing and I feel disconnected to be at the top finally, too exhausted to appreciate it, only wanting rest. Crossing the ridge to middle peak we find the shelter we hoped to stay at booked out and have to climb down the other side somewhat knowing we will have to retrace our steps the next day. Hundreds are crammed into the shelter, each given about a foots width to
sleep in as we are packed in wishing for the spacious luxury of being sardines. Less sleep is had.
The next morning is cloudy and we relish an easy day strolling back down. As we begin to ascend the final peak, a reputed ten minute stroll before heading down, slight spitting from above turns harder, as we reach the summit, comes in stinging blasts from the side
threatening to hurl us from the top of the mountain. We have been walking less than half an hour and are cold and drenched, not pausing at the top for fear of survival, thinking only of getting out of the fury.
Why do people go hiking in monsoon season?
Its bloody silly if you ask me!
The previous two days have taken their toll and my wobbly legs and exhausted body complain at the severity of the drop barely having the strength to hold my weight. Each time i take a step down I feel like my legs are about to crumple completely under me and we proceed slowly, dreaming of the hot springs at the bottom.
But we did it! We climbed the third highest mountain in Korea and saw some fantastically scenic sights. My back is much stronger, my fitness level higher and after three days I am beginning to walk normally again, losing the pigeon toed stagger of an old lady!
Monika is back at work and I am waiting for a package to arrive before departing these shores. The past couple of months has been really stressful. The universe has stepped in and exited me from my job and subsequently the country when I was too stubborn to do so myself. I'm currently shuffling options, looking forward to repairing my mental health on a beach for a while before considering what next to employ my time and energy usefully doing.
All suggestions gratefully received!
I hope you are all well and look forward to reconnecting with people as personally as email will allow when my head is removed from the pollution of mass consumerism.