Seoraksan in summer
I should have known, when the heavens opened up on that first morning of my vacation, that it was going to be a very wet three weeks. But, not to be deterred, I ran through the shower to the touristy Hanok café and had an overpriced latte and cake (in my defense, if I need such a thing, it was the only coffee shop open near the shop where I wanted to buy a small backpack).
Bag purchased, caffeinated and sneakers soaked through, I got on the bus headed to Sokcho. I was going to spend three days there and had high hopes to see Ulsanbawi, regardless of the weather predictions from my coteachers. Once in Sokcho, I got on the connecting local bus in the sweltering afternoon humidity and headed to my hotel near the entrance to Seoraksan. Fortunately, I could check in and have a shower (and dispose of my disintegrated sneakers). I headed out when it seemed a bit cooler, in search of dinner, but most of the restaurants were either still “on break” (a la “siesta time” in Europe) or had a few local men who all stared at me as I walked past. I decided on cup ramyeon, an energy bar for the next day and the comfort of my hotel room after a long day’s travel. Besides, my starting time the next morning would be before even the rooster could crow.
I slept surprisingly well for my first night (it usually takes me a few days to acclimate to a new travel schedule) and got up refreshed and excited for the hike ahead. If you know anything about me, it’s that I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud to anyone. In elementary school I even received a - somewhat sarcastic? – certificate for a “gutsy solo descent” because I refused to carry on walking up the mountain with the rest of my outdoor club…So, surprising even me, I headed out in good spirits, intent on seeing the sun rise over the valley from the top of the mountain. But Mother Nature had other things in mind. The route I really wanted to walk was closed because of mudslides. Plan B – the next best (read: closest) trail, Biseundae.
For someone who never exercised regularly and thought “how bad can it be?” before attempting this hike, it wasn’t too bad! It was only at the end, when I tried to climb to the peak, at a horrendous incline, in crazy morning humidity, with tiny attack bugs and a mask, that I gave up and decided to head back to the safety of the flat trail - before I fell down the side of the mountain whilst trying to see through my fogged up glasses and energetically swatting at the bugs (this was after I did fall square on my back, whilst trying to protect my Pentax and not caring about my tailbone…). A few minutes prior to the fall, a friendly monk had sped past me with encouraging words but had also warned me to be careful. Wonder if he looked back and smirked when the clearly-unprepared-unfit-foreign-tourist ended up flat in the mud? Probably not.
Once back in semi civilization, I found that more and more people were heading up the trail and I was very happy with my decision to do the hike under the cover of the semi dark, foggy trees. The Hanok café at the foot of the mountain had just opened up so I sat and enjoyed an iced Americano and some wasabi pretzels as “service” (free). Sitting next to the river I could finally see the sunrise. I felt a bit sad about not making it to the very top but, all things considered, it was a successful trip. And I needed to get back to the hotel to check out. I was spending the day in Sokcho and had a bed booked in a hostel with three strangers – joy. Getting back to the hotel, I showered, got all my things together and headed out. The owners of the hotel were so lovely – I would definitely stay both nights next time. In Sokcho, the beach was heavily controlled (that full pandemic experience) so I couldn’t walk next to the ocean. For lack of anything better to do, I walked the length of the long, main road which reminded me of the town I grew up in. As the afternoon crept on, the skies got dark again. And, as I was reading my book on a lone pagoda next to the ocean, the wind picked up and I realized I should head back to the hostel or risk getting drenched again. Not going to lie, Seoraksan is definitely the redeeming factor of Sokcho. Never having been one for small fishing villages - probably because I grew up in one - I was getting restless and couldn’t wait to get back to the hustle and bustle of Seoul.
The next morning, eager for a full day free in Seoul, I headed to the bus station as early as I could muster. With a short detour past the beach. Because it was so early, the barricades hadn’t been set up yet and I could finally see the picturesque sunrise I’d been hoping for, for three days. As I sat on the sand, I said thanks for all that I’d already experienced and a short prayer for all the days that lay ahead. And boy, oh boy, were there adventures ahead!
