A Nice Night for a Hike

For the first time since 1991 Hangeul Day was recognized as an official public holiday in South Korea. "What's the deal with Hangeul?" you ask, using your best (probably terrible) Jerry Seinfeld impersonation? Well, Hangeul is just a fancy word (actual Korean word) for the Korean alphabet which was so graciously invented by King Sejong the Great of Choseon and officially indoctrinated some 567 years ago. On October 9th, (January 15th if you live in North Korea in which case you aren't reading this blog anyway), schools, offices, (some) businesses, and (no) hospitals were closed for the day so that the people could celebrate all 40 characters properly. In spite of only being barely literate with the Korean language, we (more on that later) decided to spend our entire day off in the comfort of our beds, sleeping until the early evening. Why? Because in the wee hours of the morning we were in Busan, racing to the top of Jangsan, a mountain that faces to the east...and the sea that occupies that area...east...of Korea...

Who and/or what were we racing against and why was this particular race being held under the guise of darkness? The simple answer is: we were racing against the sun. Jangsan is famous for affording beautiful views of the sunrise as it breaches the horizon east of the sea...the sea that lies east...of Korea...

This was never intended to be a race though. Especially not against an adversary as formidable and consistent (thankfully) as that giant blinding light in the sky. The question then is this: where did we go wrong? And how many times did we go there? The answers lie in the text that follows, which I've titled:

The Search for Hangeul: A Hangeul Day Celebration

Part One: I Would Celebrate Hangeul Day by Reading the Trail Markers if There Were Only Some Trail Markers Marking this Trail That I'm On OR: (How We Added 400 Meters in 40 Minutes)

Like all memorable quests, ours (myself, Caroline and our pals Jeff and Alyssa who devoted followers of this blog might remember from such posts as this one) began in a train station at around 10:30 in the evening. Having boarded the final train for Busan Station, spirits were high as we anticipated an easy 2 hour hike to the top of Jangsan. Jeff and I had filled our packs with tools and provisions: a portable, gas powered grill, one small pot for boiling water, one french press, one small plastic bag of coffee. The girls were carrying oatmeal and fruit. Each of use had our own 2 liter bottle of water and someone was carrying an extra bottle for boiling with. I, of course, had forgotten my flashlight.

Research was done. The train would arrive in Busan about 90 minutes after departing Daegu. We'd have about an hour to kill near the station and we decided that it would best be spent fueling ourselves with coffee. The plan was to find a 24 hour coffee shop, (which is sometimes easier than finding a coffee shop that opens before 10 AM if you can make sense of that), where we would waste about an hour getting good and caffeinated before cabbing it to the park. Ideally, we'd begin the hike around 2:30 AM. The sun was due to rise around 5:30 so we'd be able to have breakfast at the top while we waited. 

The train arrives in Busan as scheduled but it's here that our seemingly flawless plan begins to go awry. All of the cafes, even the one with a big "24 hrs" window display, are closed. We settle for four cups of coffee-flavored-water at the local Lotteria, a fast food chain likened to McDonalds but more accurately comparable to some fast food knock off you're likely to find in an Indiana rest stop along Interstate 80. After "finishing" our "coffee" we head for the cab stand in front of the train station.

The streets are empty so the cab ride is quick and simple, and we're dropped off about ten minutes away from the park's entrance. Having wasted no time up to this point, the four of us make our way to the large circular area (full of exercise equipment and old men and women exercising on said equipment...after midnight...on a Wednesday...) where the main trailheads are located. It's here that our night takes a turn in the wrong direction...literally...

At the center of this outdoor fitness center, there is a large map. According to the map, the right most path leads to the peak, which is labeled "Peak" and estimated to be about 2200 meters away. We head to the right and begin slowly ascending towards the top...or so we think. Twenty minutes later we come across the first trail marker since the giant map. It reads "PEAK 2600 meters". Somehow, the same place that was 2200 meters away from the start of the trail, was now 400 meters further. Confused, thoroughly, we continued on...

After about forty minutes, all trail markers have disappeared...or at least all of the trail markers that read "PEAK xxxx m". Eventually we come to a fork with the sign pointing right telling us that it leads to a village...which is appearing on a sign for the first time...and a trail leading left which again leads to a place that was previously unlisted. At this exact moment, a pack of young Koreans on ATVs come charging up the trail behind us. Perfect! we think. We know enough Korean to ask them directions to the top of the mountain. Unfortunately, these young guys are so dumbfounded that the four of us are hiking to the top of a mountain at this hour, that they spend quite some time laughing at us and asking us why we're doing what we're doing. Finally, one of them jogs a few feet up the leftward trail and tells us that we're almost at the top.  The top, he says, is at the end of the trail going left.

We thank them and they leave but something seems strange. At the beginning of the trail, the peak was 2200 meters away. The trail heading left marks the final destination in that direction as being 500 meters away. There is no way we'd hiked 1700 meters in an hour, especially since we were climbing so gradually that we could still see some the other peaks above us. A decision needed to be made.

Here's what we knew:

The hike, according to multiple resources, should take 2 hours at the most.

The trail should have been heavily signed.

The trail wasn't supposed to be especially steep, but it should begin to climb almost immediately.

There were multiple peaks to hike to, some being deeper in the mountain.

There was a military base somewhere on the mountain.

There were areas sectioned off because of landmines.

After a quick deliberation, we decided it best to hustle back to the area with the large map...or...if you're scoring at home...the bottom of the mountain.

Part Two: In Honor of Hangeul Day I am Now Reading Dozens of Trail Markers that All Seemingly Lead to Nowhere But In the Same Direction OR: (How Many Trails Can Go Left and Still Terminate in 500 Meters?)

Back at the beginning, we searched the map for a trail leading left that might give us a decent view to the east of the mountain. We settled for Anbu, which was (supposedly) only 1900 meters away and was marked as a peak. It also appeared to be on the eastern face of the mountain. Could this have been the destination that we were looking for to begin with? It only took about 30 minutes to get back to the bottom, so we still had roughly 2 hours before the sun was due to rise. With a bit of luck, we would be able to make it to Anbu with enough time to spare for coffee and oatmeal.

Unlike our first attempt, this trail was rapidly climbing and was heavily marked with signage. The only problem being, signs literally pointed in every direction imaginable and at every junction, destinations had either disappeared completely or were being called by different names. Of course, Anbu was one such destination. Frustrated, we continued on, choosing our course based on which "trail" appeared to be changing elevation the quickest.

Having powered through for more than an hour, we reached another clearing full of signs for trails, (and also more exercise equipment), one of which indicated that Anbu was 300 meters away. A short time later, we had reached Anbu...a small clearing among some tall pine trees...with trail markers...about six of them...one of which read "PEAK 900m". It was the first sign to indicate the mountain's peak since we'd embarked on our second attempt. 

We emerged from the trees following a trail that lead through a clearing and up towards a radio tower. We reached the peak with an hour to spare and the only remaining challenge being the wind, which blew in strong from over the ocean and made lighting the gas stove extremely difficult (and probably dangerous). Luckily, we were able to keep the flame burning long enough to boil water for coffee.

And there it is--an extremely mediocre sunrise thanks in large part to the clouds that moved in right before dawn. I think there's an old cliche about the journey being the best part of blah blah blah, and that certainly holds true in this case. There's nothing quite like getting lost in the woods at three in the morning in a foreign country only to finally find your way just in time to brave the elements with aluminum foil blankets...on top of a mountain...

Whatever. Happy Hangeul Day.

Gatbawi

Once a single granite stone, this carving dates all the way back to the 9th century.  During the 7th year of Queen Seondeok of the Silla Kingdom's rule, a young man by the name of Uihyeon ascended 2,790 feet to the top a round hill and carved the statue in order to appease his ailing mother's soul.  Legend persists that the statue will answer only the prayers of those who pray with their entire heart.  Every fall, thousands of Koreans from all over the country make the trek in order to pray for their children's success on the college entry exams.  

The name "Gatbawi" comes from the flat rock situated on the top of the statue's head.  The rock resembles a traditional Korean hat, or a "Gat", and the word "bawi" means rock or stone in Korean.  The hike only took about an hour and half and it wasn't too strenuous as the rocky terrain provided a bit of a staircase that wound up through the pine.

A temple usually signals the beginning of a hiking trail and this one began at Gwanam Temple.  The temple complex was of average size and positioned so that benevolent mountain spirits could flow southward down the mountain to greet mankind.   

Although foot traffic on the way up was pretty light, the mountain top was teeming with people wishing good fortune upon the statue. 

And finally, Old Stone Hat himself.

Wild Korea

I think I've said this before, but wildlife in Korea is pretty scarce.  Aside from a few Wild Josh sightings, I haven't really come across anything else worth noting.

Until now:

The Wild Korean Rock Tailed Mountain Cat Lion

The extremely rare Mountain Pigeon

This sign translates to read "Beware of the storks overhead, as they will drop unclaimed children on you."

...no it doesn't.

Happy Birthday Buddha

I'm not sure anyone is aware of it, but Buddha turned 2576 years old this year.  Or I guess he would have turned 2576 years old had he not left this physical world almost 2500 years ago.  But his death was not in vain.  Not only do we have the ability to make jokes about people with large stomachs, we here in Korea are also awarded a 3 day holiday weekend.   So how did we celebrate over 2500 years of Buddha?  We took a 4 hour, (more like 9 with holiday traffic), bus ride to the small sea side village of Sokcho.  Why?  Because we felt like it.  (And also, there's a beautiful National Park near Sokcho called Seoraksan and this was the actual reason for enduring such a long and terrible bus journey).  

I said terrible but I'm just exaggerating as the bus was actually pretty comfortable and we were traveling with friends so there was never a shortage of good conversation:

Luckily, I remembered to pack my Josh, so I wasn't bored on the ride up.

Okay, enough with the Josh and on to the real reason I'm even writing this: Seoraksan National Park.  Although I was only there for a day and only able to complete one hike, Seoraksan has sky rocketed to the top of my favorite-places-in-Korea List.  In fact, I didn't even have a list prior to this trip, I had to create one because this place deserves to be on the top of something.

Here's a quick rundown of the park presented in list form (complete with bullet points):

-- Seoraksan was the first National Park in Korea being designated as such in 1970

-- The highest peak is Daechongbong at 1708 meters (5604 ft)

-- The rock is granite and gneiss

-- More than 1,000 different plant species have been classified

-- More than 1,500 different animal species have been classified

The Hike:  We decided to hike Ulsanbawi, which means wobbly rock.  The wobbly rock wasn't at the top of the trail, it was towards the middle.  There was a really long line to get to the rock and once there, you could push it and make it wobble a little bit.  Then you got to have your picture taken so that you could prove that you were there.  We elected to skip the line and continue on to the top of the mountain.

I'm going to apologize in advance for what's about to come.  I'm not really sure what else I can write so I'm about to flood your digital space with photos.  I'm not much of a photographer and I attribute that to either a) I'm not much of a photographer, b) my camera reacts weird to natural light, c) my eyes aren't that good and I can't tell when things are in focus, or d) a combination of some or all of the above. 

The Quest

The different shades of green were so vibrant that even someone as remarkably colorblind as I am could appreciate it.  I especially liked how some of the taller pines created dark green ribbons that cut through the rest of the forest.

The final kilometer of the hike was mostly just a long, winding staircase.  I suppose stairs are a better option than say, scaling the side of the rock face.

Here's a view of Ulsanbawi taken from the balcony of our hotel room.  This photo does very little to capture its majesty but let me point out that I spotted our hotel from the top and I've seen bigger (and better looking) lego structures.