Cities don’t come much bigger than Seoul. And when you live in such a big city, you tend to get a little bit blinkered. After all, what could possibly be happening in another part of Korea that I couldn’t get in Seoul. But at heart, I’m not a city slicker, I’m a small town boy and part of my soul cries out for solitude that can be gained by reconnecting with nature.Fortunately and somewhat surprisingly given how populated Korea is, there are many opportunities to get out and about. Unfortunately, at times it seems that half of Korea shared the same idea. Walking tracks are not the place of quiet they are in New Zealand. Here, people swarm, people talk on cell phones, people sing, people listen to music on radios. After a few solo hikes, I planned a big trip with a few friends to Seoraksan National Park, one of the country’s premier parks and home to the third highest peak in South Korea. With three million visitors a year, it’s not exactly a retreat but the views were said to be breathtaking, particular as we were going in autumn when the leaves were changing colour.
Koreans tend to take hiking very seriously. A typical Korean hiker would be wearing Gore Tex boots, polyprop long sleeved shirt and undergarments. They would have a cap and a hat and two types of gloves. They would have on dri fit clothes, one if not two retractable walking sticks (this always gave me stick envy), a back pack replete with bear bells full of supplies for any conceivable event bar a nuclear strike; nutrition bars, candy, kimchi, soup, meat, ramen, a torch, a head lamp, a gas stove with spare gas cylinders, spare pairs of everything, sun glasses, four litres of water, ion replacement tablets, medicine and bandages for any ailment and probably a bottle of soju, Korea’s famous liquor, to celebrate reaching the summit. It’s fair to say that in comparison to Korean hikers, I was under prepared. I wore jeans (with shorts underneath in case I got too hot) and a pair of very worn gym shoes. My only concession to proper hiking gear was a long sleeved striped polyprop shirt. I, in comparison to the Koreans, didn’t prepare for any likelihood of failure. After all, it was only a9 hour walk. I’ve done 5 day hikes in New Zealand with less equipment than these people carried for a day hike. It is quite possible in hindsight that I underestimated the mountain. One should never underestimate a mountain.
As well as the leaves changing, so was the temperature. Rapidly going downhill. Realization two was that one should never underestimate how cold things can get on a mountain. It was still double figures in Seoul most days so we didn’t think too much of it. We were going to climb to the top, camp out, drink some whiskey and then climb back down the next day. Thankfully, when we arrived at Seoraksan, we altered our plans as we determined we could do the walk in a day if we got up early enough. And who really wants to camp out when you can go out for beers afterwards?
Above:Seoraksan, one of Korea’s most beloved parks.
We started off in the early morning, all of us in high spirits, several of us just in jeans. Of course, I had forgot to pack a hat or a pair of gloves. The first kilometre or so was a nice, easy walk through pristine forest, past babbling brooks and small waterfalls. Chipmunks played in among the roots. Bear warning signs were posted (a few bears still live in the area but are shy and rarely seen). Restaurants were sprinkled throughout this section, to reward those who made the effort to get out and about something nice to eat whilst taking in the environs. The craggy peaks the park are known for could be glimpsed at times, through the trees and when the clouds shifted. We came to a small lookout with a restaurant that sold the last beer before the walk to the summit began in earnest. Good to know, we thought, we will be back later. Somehow, this is when things started to turn to custard. At a fork in the road, three of us stopped, talked about and made a group decision about which way to go. Turns out we choose the wrong way. The others continued on their river path, following it for another 2 kilometres or so before starting their uphill climb. They waited for us but when we didn’t catch up, they continued without us. We had now split into two groups, heading in completely opposite ways. Cell phone coverage was patchy at best. The way we went called for a strenuous hike up steep flights of irregularly spaced stairs. We kept up a mean pace for a start, trying in vain to catch the others. Soon, sweat was pouring off me. The temperature was falling, just as fast as my heart rate was rising. We soon realized that we were on our own as our questions to the Korean hikers if they had seen any other foreigners on the trail were all answered negatively. We made the decision to continue up our trail, albeit at a slower pace. Every step uphill became a battle, a battle against the mountain, the climate and myself. The other two managed a little better than me and every time I caught up with them when they were having a break, it was time for them to go, go before the cold made them stiffen up. My muscles began to cry out for oxygen, to cramp up on every step. Anguish in my thighs, in my calves. I have never been so miserable in my life. Each step up the mountain was agony but somehow one step followed the other. I was determined that I would win out over the mountain and my body.
Later on in our journey, we were joined by an elderly Korean man, well versed in hiking and dressed like most Korean hikers who looked as if they were planning to circumnavigate the Antarctic. How I wished I looked like that. Here, I was, bare headed, gloveless, dressed in jeans and covered in sweat that clung, frozen to my body. I was suffering badly from cramps, he looked like he was out on a Sunday stroll. His thermometer read -10 degrees Celcius; when we started out, it had been 11 degrees Celcius. Add in the wind chill factor and I could see I was in trouble. I hoped I wasn’t going to have to be rescued because of my stupidity, my under preparedness. By now we had been walking for about five hours and we were approaching the summit. My leg cramps had eased a little and now I was concerned about one of my friends who seemed to be having massive cramping issues of his own. The old man we were with also turned out to be a proficient masseuse, and gently massaged my friend’s legs, his upper and inner thighs. After not getting the right result, he quickly slide my friend’s pants down to his ankles and started spraying on an aerosol, while simultaneously massaging his bare legs. If I wasn’t in such a poor shape myself, I would have found this hysterical. A combination of massage and spray seemed to do the trick.
Above: Warming up at the top. Chris looks concerned.
With my friend’s legs better and our spirits uplifted from the unsightly spectacle, we powered our way to the top. Then, it was my turn to be pitied. Two Korean men must have noticed my shivering and blueness in my face. I must have looked like death for them to get the confidence to approach me. They pulled me over to warm my hands by their little portable gas cooker, boiled me up some ramen in a packet which they made me put down my jacket in an effort to warm me up. They gave me a cup of tea. It worked; the heat from my chest ramen and tea drove my core temperature up enough to stave off the hypothermia which I must have been close to getting. I fumbled with my heart felt thanks, too cold to talk. I found a pair of socks that I put onto my hands that acted assubstitute gloves. I felt like a billion dollars. It’s amazing what reaching the summit does to your psyche, what getting your hands warmed around a small gas cooker and a packet of ramen shoved by your chest can do. Energized, we paused for photos before the ice cool wind on the summit gave us a reason to make a hasty exit off the mountain. Maybe, I owed my life to a humble packet of noodles. I will never look at them in the same way again. Four hours later and the descent achieved, that first beer that I purchased from the shop down at the river, just after the missed turnoff, was the best tasting beer I have had in my life. For a minute, it seemed to ease away all my aches and pains, at least until I stood up again. I learnt several lessons that day, most importantly, to paraphrase George W, never misunderestimate a mountain.
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