I returned to the trail head in the morning, the weather its normal gassy self with the hills set in a fine atomized spray of low lying cloud and heat; the scene was all very achromatic. 

I had estimated about 20kmsof ridge walking for this day. The weather had given me no confidence to allow camping in the forest, one good down pour this time of the year was not uncommon and held good potential to ruin all the gear I was carrying. It just made more sense to load up the pack with food and water and try and get to the next road pass, where the prospect of finding shelter in a village or derelict hut was better. The trail so far had been fairly hard and unscenic due to the heavy vegetation and wet atmosphere. However this was what Jeong-maek walking was often about, a determined effort to walk the energy line and see what happens. In a sense they give roamers like me a straight line to walk, a start point and an end point. This form of pilgrimage can be done for various reasons, they get you in condition, it’s good to feel your body literally do this day after day. They make you alone, alive, suffer, and give you question to hate, to love…to feel the full spectrum of emotion. Everything passes through your mind in the quiet forest as you let your body become your carrier, it couriers your mind, allowing it to work, transporting it through one realm to the next, giving it new sights, sounds and smells everyday. You tell yourself to see the beauty in front of you, not to spoil yourself for more, not to expect more, there’s no more there, that’s why no one is here…in a sense there is a great beauty in just that. 

The forest was grand. Inside stood tall stands of deciduous forest that en-captivated me, making me look small and insignificant, lost. Half way through the long day I stopped to eat, then spread out my rain jacket and slept on that, listening to the song of bird and the natter of insect. The tall trees just stood above me like quiet Gods. By the end of the day I dropped out of that green planet and onto an road that was blazoned in bright sunlight, the heat piercing. At the pass was an old Hugae-so (rest-stop) with not much happening. A group of three men were sitting outside under the shade of some umbrellas, I went and sat at the table next to them, removing my boots and manky shirt, twigs, insects, and other debris falling from my sweating torso as I did so. The men got up and moved inside, I laughed to myself, knowing these guys had never had the pleasure before of knowing what I felt like, not sarcasm, more pity for them. I pitched there that night. 

01/08 

Korea-Town

 After taking a day of rest I began walking again. On what looked like   another long leg, I laden my pack with two days supply of food and enough water for the day, hoping to obtain more at some stage elsewhere. It was now the weekend, and as the trail became more scenic I began to tumble onto other small groups of weekend hikers. I arrived at a trail junction and continued onwards in what I believed to be the right direction. The trail remained attractive and lush, the path undulating gently in an almost botanic way.  Some time later I came out onto the peak of a mountain which contained numerous other hikers. There were also mountain vendors out there selling ice-creams and makoli (rice wine), which they transport up the mountain themselves. I looked at my map, hoping that this mountain was on my route, I discovered it wasn’t, in fact I had walked about 6kms off-route. I sat down in the hot sun and had a quiet laugh to myself, resigning myself to the fact that I had made another navigational error, only due to mental laziness. It was about then that a tall local walked over wearing a straw hat. He asked me what I was doing, and I told him I had taken a wrong turn in life.  With that we both laughed and he took me over to his vending stand under the shade of some trees and gave me a bowl of Makoli. I sat there and drank it slowly, relaxing, and enjoying the company of other people for a change. He offered me another, and after that I got up and with a warm buzz walked off his mountain to the bottom, to try and get back to my Jeong-maek some 10kms south of me. I walked into a store and bought a coke. A man seeing me studying my map, came up and asked what I was doing. I told him I had gotten lost and now wanted to head back to a mountain temple called Manho-sa about 200mtrs under the Jeong-maek. On the map it was located at the end of a series of old country roads. With that, he said he would take me there. It just so happened he was a local, the local gas bottle supplier actually. We got into his truck and drove off into the countryside, passing by fields of bright green rice, the Korean countryside was once again picturesque and mesmerising. 

We drove deep into the hills, until he came to a stop at a junction, where he let me out and said that he couldn’t drive any further, but that the temple was now known as Sangwon-sa, and it was that way. I got out thanked him, and started walking, the sun still hot even in the late afternoon. About a kilometre later I came upon a large building with the words Jesus Village written on the side, what a shame I thought to myself. I walked past it hoping not to get abducted, and carried on. The road become rougher and steeper, and an SUV approached me coming down the road. It stopped and a friendly woman that may have been a Buddhist nun, had it not been for her white cotton top smiled at me, and I said I was walking to Sangwon-sa. She said to carry on, and get water once I was there. An hour later I arrived at the top of the mountain road where it ended under the Jeong-maek ridge. The small cosy temple was there, along with three builders whom were doing some additions to the place. The monk wasn’t there, but they told me he would be back later. I helped myself to a shower in the make-shift rustic bathroom that was present, and then cooked myself some noodles and tuna. Tired I felt like lying down, but this is a rather rude thing to do in the open grounds of a temple. Way up above the temple was the sanshin-gak (mountain spirit shrine), so I snuck up there and power napped in there for an hour before the workmen packed up and left. Now I had a whole temple to myself. Just on darkness, an SUV arrived and as I stood in its headlights making myself known, the monk got out, and it was the same female I had seen earlier. Despite the sight of a foreigner way up here in the middle of nowhere, the female monk invited me to stay and gave me permission to pitch my tent in the small courtyard. This I did. 

At 4am I got up and we both sat in the small Beop-dang (prayer hall) way up in the mountains, 200mtrs below the jeong-maek and I watched her summon the souls of the universe. She did the whole Morning Prayer ritual by herself, starting with the moktak (wooden percussion instrument) that is used to wake people, then the Brass bell which she rings very skillfully to awaken the universe (this cosmic noise is like an eternal metallic drone that fills the small prayer hall with vivid energy, quite amazing), and then the low guttural chant of the monks that she did by herself to talk to the universe. It really is always an incredible and touching incident to be involved in early morning prayer in Korean Buddhist temples, especially, small mountain temples with only me and a female monk. The sense of reincarnation and deja-vu, is always strong, it’s very much part of wandering in Korea, the Buddhist part of it is strong and very much the main dogma of Korean Mountain Culture. When the monks recognize you for what you are doing, you just simply become a part of their brother and sometimes sisterhood. 

I understandably awoke early in the market place of the village, but normally in the manner one would experience. At about 5.30am an old lady tapped me on my shoulder and presented me a paper cup of coffee with a big beaming toothless smile. I gratefully accepted the first thing I ever crave for in my life first thing in the morning and smiled aback supping on the instant coffee. These acts for me in Korea never feel like acts of pity towards me, the guy sleeping in their market place, but are more like token gestures of acceptance into their community. I am a man with a life and an impressive background in any realm of the workforce. I simply just sometimes need to wander in an existence where I am attached to nothing except whatever the trail gives me. I sometimes wish I had a zillion dollars so that I could roam this world and live this experience forever, settling one day in my mountain cabin when I am too old to walk. I spent a short while in the small market area saying good morning to the passer-by’s before packing up and leaving. As I hit the road to get back to the trail a light patter of rain filled the bulking grey sky and the Korean countryside took on a showery wet look, as the greens turned vivid. Getting a lift back to the saddle I realised after I had got out of my ride that I had forgotten to bring water for this leg. I decided to search on the sides of the saddle and wandered down one side for about 500mtrs before finding a small dirty run off of water as it wiggled its way out of the messy green overgrowth. Filling my 3 litre bladder and bottle, I examined the colour of the water and decided it was just a little muddy and earthy in taste, a little bit of grit never hurt anyone. Despite the fact that this was monsoon season, the temperatures ensured that water consumption was important. Finding water on a ridge was always unlikely, and whatever fell out of the sky was quickly consumed by the thirst quenching forest.

The push up the first mountain was long and hard, seeming to take forever. The forest was a lonely wet emerald, thick and knotted with angry overgrowth. The conditions became harder in the downpour and moments like these in the rather unimpressive parts of the walk make you question the purpose of it all. The simple equation was just to constantly remind myself that this was a pilgrimage above a hike, and to keep going. The temple was only some 360kms away, one day soon I’ll get to it, and I’ll cast my memory back on all of this. On the whole day’s walk, I never met another person in the woods, and some time later came out of the bush at an old grubby gas station, located on the top of the saddle. As the rain ceased later on, the heat rose, and I dried my kit out before deciding to sleep it out at the lonely pass on a old derelict bench located alongside the gas station.

29/07

I started the next day and wondered about the snake shaped course that lay ahead of me on the map. I rejoined the trail trudging through more unimpressive overgrowth on the barely used trail that was the Geumbuk-jeongmaek. Following the ridge as it circled the small village of Cheongsu-ri, I eventually came out behind some small factories near a two-laned road and found a quaint and small fishing tackle shop that had been cultured into a small convenience store. It was run by a small old lady who insisted that I stay and rest here a while. With that she ran off and brought me out some ice-cold water to drink. Nearby a small man with boyish looks but aged in probably his 40′s was sitting in an old chair under the only tree there providing shade. I smiled and said hello, and he only frowned back at me with a face that looked like it had been frowning for many years. I took my wet boots and socks off, and started brewing some lunch of noodles and canned tuna. After that I stretched out on the elevated rectangular bench and tried to sleep. An hour later I got up and was craving a cigarette, so on catching a young fella leaving the store, I bummed one off him. He got into his truck and took off, I decided to smoke the free cig now, and was scratching around in my cooking gear for a lighter when the frowning old man with boyish looks got out of his chair and reached into his pocket for his lighter. He did it all in a rather rushed dutiful manner, and pulled out an orange lighter cupping it in his fist, and began to strike the flint protecting the spark from any wind with his other hand. I stuck my cigarette in the small portal he had made and waited for it to ignite. It was then that I noticed his mangled deformed fingers on his raspy looking hands. It took the frowning old man about 30 attempts to get the lighter going, no doubt due to his handicapped condition, but when it did go, he let out a huge smile, removing the permanent frown from his face for a moment before retiring back to his chair. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up for a job well done, and enjoyed my cigarette in the hot heat of the mid day sun in the middle of somewhere in Korea. After that I went into the store and spent some money there, restocking my pack with noodles and tuna. Before I left, the old lady gave me a bottle of frozen water, I took it knowing that this would taste great later on once it had thawed, probably within 20 minutes. Feeling energized I re-entered the empty forest and walked up and down hills in the mountains of Korea.

Some time later the trail became a mountain road and I followed it, transfixed on an impressive looking structure in the distance that looked like it was located at the end of this high road. Missing the trail where it left the road I was walking on, I decided to stay on the road because it seemed to be going to the same mountain I needed to go to anyway. I wondered what this structure at the end of the road was doing there. It looked like a temple, but kind of didn’t either. As the road ended and arrived at the building I saw a three storied main building with Buddhist insignia painted on its eaves. All the windows were closed and sealed off by blinds inside. The whole place had a dead feel about it. There was also no way to get to the main building, as it was surrounded by a fence with the entrance padlocked off. On the opposite side was what looked like the main monks’ living quarters which were also cordoned off by a high wooden fence which was also fenced over again by expanded mesh, almost sealing it in a quarantine style manner. I had the feeling I shouldn’t be here. There was a vehicle in the yard which looked like it had been there for at least a week with grass growing steadily around its wheels. I looked back at the three-storied building and imagined every room containing one monk deep in a meditative prose, his mind shut off, and his body slowly emaciating away, gleefully. I walked quietly out of the temple, finding an old trail behind its location and wound my way up the thick side of the mountain known as Munbak-san.

I began my descent down the wet mountain and some hours later came to the end of my day reaching a small rural road with a small restaurant on it. It was a convenient moment. I removed my wet boots and socks and went and sat down inside the empty restaurant. Inside were two old ladies preparing food for what might have been a busy evening ahead of them. I ordered a Sam Gae Tang, a delicious broth of chicken and rice. One of the old ladies brought me a cold flannel to wash my face with. Seeing that this wasn’t enough for this jungle infested traveller, she returned with a small tray of about 6 more ice cold flannels. Putting the tray down on the table, before I could take one she started yanking my shirt off my back ripping it from my torso. Then she proceeded to wash me down with the ice cold flannels, prodding the small tattoo on my back wondering if it was real. It was a great moment, and I sat there on the floor of the restaurant and enjoyed the human comfort of being touched by a human and not the serrated bush. I put my shirt back on and next came a wonderful meal that completely filled me. I thanked the ladies and left the establishment, asking them if there was anywhere to camp. They said no, and upon investigation they were right.

I instead, walked down the road for about a kilometer before seeing a Hae-gwan (farmers administration building) located in the middle of paddocks of rice fields at the end of a thin cement road. Outside the Hae-gwan was a great looking wooden Jeong-ja (wooden pavilion). Opposite the Hae-gwan on the road I was walking was a muddy coloured building that looked like a restaurant, at least a rough one looking one. I parked off outside the front of the restaurant and an old lady came out and asked me what I wanted. I asked her if I could camp here, and confused she went inside the restaurant and out came a man. Happy to see me, he invited me inside the establishment and took me into a private eating quarter to join his group. I decided to stick out with these guys because they looked like the type that could give me permission to sleep anywhere around here. One of the group served me one small fatty looking portion of meat with skin still on it. I asked what it was and she loudly and proudly said it’s “dog-soup”. I chewed on the cud, not so much disliking the taste but more so the texture, eyeing the better leaner strands in the main bowl in front of me, wishing it was one of those pieces. I tried not to think about all the dogs I had passed on my walks in Korea, penned in their cages for selling, and ate my bit. I didn’t eat anymore after that, and they didn’t seem to mind that, drinking soju with them instead. It was actually a good night, and the rough red-neck farmers with their super-brown skin from working the fields and their labourers hands seemed to fit the part well in this back block muddy coloured restaurant in the middle of nowhere that the trail had taken me too. Later they let me set up camp in the Jeong-ja in the middle of the rice fields and as I walked down that thin cement road towards the Hae-gwan in the pitch black of the night, I reflected on my day and laughed in a slightly drunkard stupor. The Bull-frogs croaked and laughed away with me under the full light of the moon. It dawned on me under the its waxy gleam, that it wasn’t so much the trail that was providing me highlights, indeed it hadn’t for a while, it was what it brought me at the end of each day, a new place, new people, and new experiences. This was sauntering.

I left my camp and began my walk back to the trail where I had left it. Passing through villages that stood over layers of terraced rice fields, the scene was very rural and sweet. The villages contained a mixture of modern brick homes and rustic old timber and mud packed huts that this generations grandmothers and grandfathers had lived in since rebuilding them after the Korean war. As I was trying to rejoin the trail from a spot maybe 1km ahead of where I had left it, I suddenly came to a dead-end on the villageroad. I had not seen anyway of getting back to the ridge so far, so instead decided to slip in behind someones country home and mangle my way through the thick overgrown vegetation that had swallowed the fringe of the forest like a natural barricade. It always takes longer to attempt to re find a barely used trail like a Jeong-maek, this way anyway, but it was always my hope that things would work out and my techniques would be a shortcut. Often this was not the case, and not even good maps can determine the lie of the land that correctly, however this part of the journey often results in a a ramble through Korea, sometimes literally. It took me a long time to get through all the vines and mess, and the lower interior beneath the tree top was also latticed in vine nailed with thorn. The muggy heat didn’t help much either, but I was at least fortunate it wasn’t raining. Eventually I fell out of the Korean jungle onto the top of the ridge and met what I thought was the trail. I dropped my pack and walked one way until I confirmed it was this. Having done this I continued on my pilgrimage to Sanghwan-am some 320kms away. The next obstacle was trying to re find the trail again after it had become consumed by a concrete crossroad of flyovers and buildings. These were always time consuming matters and once again I had to resort to trying to find tomb trails behind small residential areas to lead me back to what I thought was the ridge. The problem this time of the year in Korea was that any chunk of soil was now covered in 1.5mtrs of green shrub if it wasn’t farmed already. So once again it was a mystery tour back to another low-lying sleepy ridge. Walking on a bearing in the straightest direction possible was normally the best technique, but geography can be daunting and hard to depict at ground level.

Finding the trail again I ended up walking though the back of another small village and started to appreciate the charm of Chungcheongnam-do with its many old styled farm houses. Ending up at a new but unused railway station I decided to stop here cook a brew of rameon and tuna. Some Korea rail guys turned up to do some work inside the station focusing on the massive data network that I guess controlled safe movement of train signals on its network. One of the guys, a rather rough but honest looking man in a blokey way came out to see me. It’s always a strange scene for both parties in rural Korea when these moments occur. Curious to know what I am about, the Korean’s don’t necessarily threat your vagabond presence with surprise, but more so with genuine interest. There in the baking sunlight we spoke about our origins and he was impressed to find out that I was from New Zealand and remarked how great it was that I could be so free. He made me feel wanted and accepted. Then with a gesture, by reaching into his back-pocket, he emphasised how Korea was all about money, the boss and the wife. I liked this rough looking guy, who recognised how impotent life can be, and that men need to be free, not tied to a massive machine that seems to roll and churn like a giant meat shredder, one piece going in after each other, feeding the consumers. After talking to him I walked over to a pastel coloured house and into their courtyard. I yelled out asking if anyone was home, no reply came. I walked into their botanical looking courtyard here in the middle of nowhere opposite the unused rail-station  and helped myself to water from their spring, knowing that it didn’t matter here, if someone found me. I have on many other occasions done this in country homes, only to awaken a sleeping grandmother who would upon seeing me, close the ranch slider door, and return moments later with fresh burnt orange slices of fresh tomatoes, smiling in welcoming burden. No one in this country was going to remove the wandering traveler that I was. I returned back to what might have been the trail and instead took an old country road that contoured the low ridge that escorted me along my way. The sun was intense and rigid,  weeping me of my strength and will but I pursued onwards, knowing that I could grab water from any one’s home at anytime I wanted, no gates here locking out passer-byers.  It was many hours later before I decided to call it another day, reaching a road going somewhere. There was no shady spot to stand and hitch, so instead I decided to take a nap in the grassy shade of a set of tombs, just me and the flies that took to my exposed feet, as I rested my boots and socks. An hour later, restless and determined, I decided to redress and hit the road again and stand their in the mercury light, thumb out. I was fortunate and a woman stopped and picked me up. It was time for a room, a wash, and some washing, and we drove for a short distance to a small town and checked in.

27/07

Above the town I stayed in that night stands a prominent mountain called Oseo-san. At about 780mtrs in height it is not the biggest, but it’s solitude made it look rather ominous, the hot early morning gave it more authority. Carrying your life on your back, 20kgs is still a good haul even up these peaks. Korean Mountains are not so tremendously high in their stature, but the menace about them is that their are so many, and your journey on any pilgrimage is always an up and down affair of such continuity…very reaching.  I grabbed a local bus and headed towards the bottom of this peak. Catching buses in rural Korea is always a great experience. The old folk that ride them are as tough and as soft as the leather their skin and minds are made of. Disembarking into the bright light I began my ascent up to Oseo-san to rejoining the ridge that would take me back to Sanghwan-am. The heat was intense, and because I had chosen once again not to breakfast and instead just coffee, I began to pay the price. However, I knew a temple was on this mountains ledges, and as I entered the small temple grounds I timed it nicely for a feed. A rather fit and strong looking monk invited me into his kitchen and there we sat and ate, a glorious non-stop amount of vegetable, fruit, and rice, swallowed done by cold tea, drank like water. I told him of my travels, and in the normal non-chalant manner of the monks, he thought it quite normal that I would want to walk 360 odd kilometers across a ridge that shadowed his temple, and wished me well on my journey. Before I left I knew that his kitchen hand, a kind old lady, would bound me with more food for my journey. In the end it turned out ot another extra 5kgs of fruit, cake, and biscuits. I couldn’t refuse and instead took it. As I left the temple grounds I ran after a group of visitors and passed them over 4.5kgs of the food that had been given me. This is the Buddhist way. If someone wants to bestow you in gifts, try to take them. What you do with them is up to you and Buddha, you can rid them if you want, but if you can rather give them to someone else then do so. If you in turn need every inch of gratitude that can be given to you in order to fulfill your good deed on this planet, then take it as well, and use it well. Otherwise just take simply what you need, in my case I only need what I can carry, which is normally only enough for one or two days. The monk knew that, but it was his deed to give me more than I need, in the event that one day he may need more help than he thinks…a simple philosophy really. Replenished and full, I continued on my ascent up the mountain, reaching an abandoned Jeong-ja (wooden pavilion) with no one else in sight. I sat in the structure and let the mountain wind caress my over-heating skin, it was great. The views were immense and vast with mountains stretching everywhere. I couldn’t quite make out where I was on a map, and quite frankly couldn’t give a damn. I had already done so much walking over this countries mountains, it was almost irrelevant to me where I was anymore. All I knew was that I was walking to a small old Sundo Taoist hermitage sitting on a sunny rocky ledge in the faraway mountains of Songnisan, this was my direction. The idea of being not quite lost in the hills of Korea was refreshing enough. I found the spur that would take me off the peak and rejoin the Geumbuk-jeongmaek. As I descended I passed an old shaman’s temple and sat in the empty courtyard taking water from its spring. At the bottom of the spur I came out onto an old country and saw no one in sight. This was often a stark contrast in Korea for me walking these old energy lines called Jeong-maeks…ending up in places with small country homes and spartan fields of vegetables, but no one in sight…where was everyone, was I even alive, could no one see me, or could I not see anyone? I walked over the quiet road an re-entered the green glistening forest up towards the low ridge again. I passed another shamans temple, and noticed that  no one seemed to be here either, once again I questioned if I was here as well? Sitting in their shrine area, I looked at the beautiful silk sashes of white, red, blue, and yellow that identify the colours of the shamans. I observed the bronze gong that they like to beat in harmony with their inner selves as they chant into the deep ether’s of the universe in search of the unknown, and then I also noticed the little Buddha statues that adorn their small pinnacles of rock that they worship. Meanwhile the forest gleamed in the mid summer heat and the sound of cicada brazened the air like hails of soft bullet. Despite my tiredness, I felt good here.

I continued walking over the ridge that took me through the back-blocks of old Korea, not caring where I was, just knowing that the trail was taking me where I wanted to go. Near the end of another long day, I reached a small country road with nothing on it. I stood their in the late light, thumb out, and watched cars intermittently drive past me. The bus shelter behind me looked good enough to sleep in. I watched a younger woman and her stooped over grandmother go about their garden, trimming flowers and enjoying the simplicity of country life, their old wooden and mud assembled house standing their glamorously amongst the green rich energy of the countryside. Later a car stopped and a young man with fishing rods in the back took me down to the nearest village, where I got out and sought a restaurant. I ate well rejuvenating my strength, and a big thunderstorm visited the village casting everyone indoors to huddle, talk and banter together. After the storm stopped I went outside and looked for somewhere to sleep. The small village was a little desperate for me to sleep in, and on dark I moved into the small hub of the village that hid their market place area for vendors. I set up my small camp on one of those elevated rectangular benches covered in vinyl that everyone likes to sit on during the day. The market place was sealed above with a plastic roof, so in the event of rain, I would still be perfect. As I sat their in the tallow light that swathed out from the nearby back doors of the small restaurants, I listened to the sound of rural Korea laugh and sing in the night from within their friendly abodes. I felt privileged to be here once again.

Fellow Geumbuk-jeongmaek(ers), a rare breed, sent to me from them on day 1.

24/07

Sitting in my mountain cabin having an argument with my notebook that decides it no longer wants to work, resulting in it getting flung into the adjacent wall where we both come off second best, is a moment when one says ‘what next’? I had come here to this isolated spot to work on my other website to promote my business idea. It was also the type of place that mountain bums like me like to hang out and live for free. Now without my notebook, I was even more freer. My other website was then put in the hands of a professional website designer and suddenly I was left with not much to do in a way of work, except count raindrops in the mountains. The question of ‘what next’ was answered soon by a need for me to return to the mountains on a walk. It was to be mobile again and reconnect with the very culture that stole my life from me. The fortunate thing was that it didn’t take me to long to figure out where to go for this walk. Above my cabin stood a 400km ridge that riddled its way from the west coast of Korea into the hinterland of the Baekdu-daegan at Songnisan Mountains. Even greater was the idea that at the end of such a distance stood a little mountain hermitage known as sanghwan-am, where I had spent over the years at least 5 months living in, it was my mountain hermitage and I was to pilgrim from my mountain cabin to there. I packed my pack, preparing it in particular for the rainy season. As I did this I prepared my mind for the 30 day estimation it was going to take me to do this. 30 days of wet hardship and the strange pleasure that sensation brings to pilgrims. That night as I slept on the floor of my humble abode, the biggest meanest loudest thunder and lightening storm I have ever heard in Korea, crashed its way above my roof. It went on all night, its therocity keeping me awake. It was the ridges way of telling me that this might be a challenge this time of the year, she was trying to pysche me out.

The next morning I awoke and the Storm had ceased. The sky was puffy and overcast and the mountains looked green and wet like ocean jade. It took me two hours to climb the spur up to the ridge known as the Geumbuk-jeongmaek. At the trail head I found a walking stick whittled from the limb of a small tree. I took it knowing that this would be my companion, my leverage for this 30 day walk. I made my way to the first summit through the soggy conditions and misty clouds, my body soaked already by the humidity. I stood on the mountain top and let the slippery clouds wallow through me. A lone woman came to the top, attractive and well-shaped. She sat on the summit meditatively taking in large breaths of mountain air. Some short while later she got up to leave and as she walked past me she looked like she had been weeping. The mountains are like that for their loners.

I grabbed my sodden pack and began my pilgrimage, scaling the clustering white boulders of Deok-san as the watery grey monsoon clouds swirled in and out of the mountains crusty ridge. Some time later I disturbed two hikers sleeping in a jeong-ja (wooden pavilion) located in a deep saddle. I was out of water and asked them if they knew which side of the saddle might host a water source nearby. They looked at me confused, and with that I grabbed my bladder and bottle and searched down the west side locating water soon afterwards. Returning to the saddle the two men were impressed by the efforts of this foreigner to find water – not such a hard effort this time of the year, and normally only done when you need it, clearly they didn’t need to. The saddle was a strange scene, a green grassy field with a large wooden crucifix and altar table at one end, and a couple of round shaped granite tablets depicting the persecution of Christians during the late Joseon period of the 19th century. The area obviously once held some historical significance and could have possibly been a rally point for religious revolutionists during that point back in time? I cooked up a brew of rameon (noodles) and tuna and then continued walking. As I descended the wet spur I passed through a beautiful field of purple violets and then entered a typical rural Korean village dotted with old country homes. I met a couple of old ladies outside the front of their house and asked them if I could have water. They took me over to their spring and as I washed my face in a bowl, one of the old ladies stood above me and let water from a hose run over the back of my head and neck. Grateful and replenished I left, crossing the road and into the green wet wonder at the next trail head.

It was around 5pm and a cool wind made conditions better against the descending sun. I was now climbing my way to the top of a mountain known as Sudeok-san. I got to the top of the beautiful summit and found myself to be the only one there. Portions of it seemed to be wired off, perhaps in an attempt by the monks at the lower Sudeok-sa temple to keep visitors off its sacred heights. Sudeok-sa is one of the major Zen temples in Korea. From the summit I eyed the distance below me to the temples and decided to head down their to look for somewhere to sleep. I passed though some stunning Buddhist architecture before arriving at Sudeok-sa’s grounds. I tried to remember the name of the monk whom I had meet here previously, in the event that I might see him, but couldn’t remember. I sat and listened to the monks summon the ailing spirits of the cosmic universe, while an old lady came up and sat alongside me. She looked at me in that rather reincarnated manner and hummed soft Korean folk songs to me as the monks sang sutra from inside the prayer hall. It was great to be back in the naturally hospitable environ of Korean Mountain Culture. I left the temple grounds and went further down to the entrance area that serves the temple. Finding an isolated Jeong-ja I set up camp, hand-washing myself in a nearby toilet facility. I chose the handicapped cubicle as it had a hand basin in it to do so, and laughed at the idea of a man in a wheelchair opening the door to find a naked white man in there bathing himself with handfuls of water. I set back to my jeong-ja and settled in for the night rolling out my thermal mat and dozing off in my clothes in the warm night air. The mossies hounded me through the night, and I hoped fatigue would take over to rid me of their nuisance and put me to sleep. At around 3am the distant tap tap of a moktak (wooden percussion instrument) drew me out of my sleepless slumber. The monks were awakening for morning prayer. I instead got up and put my one-man tent up, and then myself in it, to save me from the mosquitoes. As I lay there comfortably, I reminded myself of how silly I am of losing 6 hours sleep. I slept well after that.

25/07

It was raining again by the time I woke. I sat it out in my Jeong-ja packing up getting ready to move. I filled my time writing, and chatting with interested temple visitors as they came by. The Koreans find my life ascetic and peculiar, but admire me for it. It was one of the reasons I did this I suppose? Later the rain waned and I head back to the ridge stopping at a Hugae-so (restaurant service area) to take on more water. The folk at the pass there took an interest in me, and I suddenly clicked that I was back in Mountain Culture. The people here make their living out of those that want to go to the mountains, they live here, and to meet someone like myself who is immersing himself in it, gave them a sense of purpose as well. We all felt connected with this. I began my climb up the steep ridge in the saturated forest with the baker’s oven heat, reaching the top I continued along a rolling ridgeline enshrouded in forest. Soon I came out of the forest onto a great small stand of white rock. The heavens were open and patches of candy blue sky pierced the cumulus horizon. The air was as clear as the universe and I looked back towards where I had come and could see the peak of Gaji-bong from yesterday. Mountains rolled in all directions and I felt like I was standing on the top of a small world. I left the peak and descended down through what became a vague overgrown trail, eventually losing it and coming out alongside some small dams where fisherman were enjoying their solitude away from their wives. I walked along an old road enjoying the loneliness of it all. I met the main road, a small two-laned affair, and wondered where the heck I was. I put down my pack and removed my wet boots and socks, leaving them in the sun to dry out. I walked down to a distant service station in my crocs and met the manager. Confirming with him the names of the nearby mountain tops, I got my bearings. The service station was what I like to call a Tarantino oasis. It looked more like a girls hair salon with walls painted in hues of pink and lime green. The rest areas had stands of pineapple coloured umbrellas and sky-blue chairs, it was great. I drank iced coffee, and the manager refused to take my money. I thanked him and moved back to my pack, knowing that in Korea it was safe anywhere. My whole life possessions are in that old bag. The heat by now was intense and I eventually found my way to what I thought might be a way back to the trail, walking past maddened dogs on rusty chains, I wondered how me and my stick would act if one or all of them broke loose.

I began my ascent through orchards and re-met the trail. The climb was steep and arduous and I stopped many times in the shade to re-energize. Later I broke out onto the summit of Baekwol-san and was surprised by the feature that lived there. A large mound of rock that looked like a frozen gargoyle protruded from a flat grassy area. The place seemed to have strong spiritual and shamanic significance. As I explored the summit area in the bright light I came across a sanshin gak (mountain spirit shrine) with a well dressed mudang (shaman) sitting outside. She wore all the features of a shaman with telling eyes that looked deep into your soul. This was the largest sanshin-gak I had seen on a mountain in Korea, and inside it were some effigies of Dangun, Korea’s spiritual founder from 2400BC period. Later as I was about to move off the peak, a rather large chubby boy come running up behind me with a huge pack on his back. He was smiling like he had just lost his virginity. I wondered why someone would be smiling whilst running with a large pack on their back up a mountain? He asked me in soft English, “excuse me please”, and I let him by. As he past me I saw the logo GIN on the bag and realised he was a para-glider, hence the excitement, he was here to catch the zephyrs and fly away. I sat and watched him rig up and fly away. Here was a mountain of great spiritual significance being shared by people who understood the powers of mountains – no science – just fortunate raw power and nature. As I descended I passed over numerous smaller hills on my pilgrimage before calling it quits at a roadside with a hugae-so. I asked the owners if I could pitch my tent in their yard and they naturally obliged. I spent the rest of the night sitting in the outside area of their restaurant chatting with various locals as they came by, one of them an old lady with a cute face who spoke good English. Some other men turned up and as we all exchanged our occupations, the old lady rather proudly said she was a farm-girl…I liked that. I showered once again in a manky mossie ridden toilet block but this time with a hose, and then retired to my small tent in the back of the truck yard, hoping that no drunkard truck driver rolled in too late and run me over. It was a rough life this, but the rasp of it all made me feel real.

gold glittered forests of early winter in korea

I dug deep and walked another 125km plus kilometres on another of Korea’s long distant ridges called the Geumnam-jeongmaek (Gold South Ridge). It controls the southern direction of one of Korea’s major rivers called the geumgang. It starts at the node of two other jeongmaeks, the Geumnamhonam and the Honam, near the smallish but characteristic town of Jinan in Jeollabuk-do. From that region it weaves its way north west towards the small town of Buyeo on the banks of the Geumgang river. Overall it was a great 10 day walk that took me through a mixture of reasonably high ridges and some low lying hills. The weather was a mixture of snow, showers, lots of mist and fog and some a couple of days of blue sky. It’s a good short long distance hike! Here are some pics from along the way…

Me with KNTO President

tucker time in jinan-chi

gold dappled floors of koreas winter

on day 1 near bawidu-san

an ancient 5m fire tower

On day 3, the trail produced an ancient 5mtr high fire tower. These structures were used during the 15th century as beacons to warn others in nearby regions of imminent danger, particularly during the Japanese invasions of that period. Once lit, a series of other fire towers would be lit creating a network of alarm systems around the Korean peninsula. Not many exist anymore, this is by far the largest and least significantly placed I have found on my walks.

misty mountains on day 3

war memorial of baekryeong-gogae on the PR635 near geumsan chungcheongnam-do

This place hid the foundations of an old fortress that was used by the Baekje Kingdom against the Silla Kingdom during the battles of the Three Kingdom periods of the 9th century. The same location was used as a bastion to rally members of the local communities during the Japanese invasions of the peninsula in the late 16th century. If that wasn’t enough, this very same place was the battleground for fighting between the North Koreans and local soldiers, police, and farmers of the Nami-myeon region during the Korean War. Backed by the United Nation Forces, the North Koreans suffered huge losses whilst trying to garner this location. The memorial has the names of all the South Korean men that sacrificed themselves during that campaign of the Korean War.

day 4 daedunsan...awesome!!

day 5, on the ridge after daedun-san

day 6, walking to the small town of gyerongchi

Day 6 saw me walking through some rainy conditions on a comfortable ridge that took me behind and then to the small town of Gyerong-chi which supports one of Korea’s most famous National Park regions, Gyerongsan (Rooster-Dragon Mountain). This park is steeped in Shamanistic traditions, and indeed as I passed through its outer perimeters on a full moon, my walking was entertained by the sound of cymbal and drum as local farmers celebrated the 15th day of the 29 day 10th full moon of the Chinese Calender.

the jeongja on gold-south ridge above gyerongchi

and then on day 7 a mean climb from the south up to gyerongsan, marked at its summit by a communications facility (closed area)

the gold south ridge passed through some interesting caverns along the hard cold ridge of gyerongsan

you find some odd things in korea's mountains

odd...

hire a pink bike at 8358989

The trail then delightfully took me through the town of Buyeo before winding me up its last small hill to the Buso Mountain Fortress built in 538AD to house the last Baekje capital of Sabi…very cool way to end a great 125km walk.

the town of buyeo from the ridge with the geumgang river in background

samchungsa shrine built to commemorate the death of 5000 baekje soldiers whom tried to defend this fort against a 50,000 strong silla force

the trail meanders through busu mountain fortress...rather gloriously!!

these guys put the O in buyeo

And then at the end once I reached the river, there was nothing but a big O…

the king of buyeo

And then as I walked through the town of Buyeo, I met the dude in charge!!

Okay folks, that’s it for eight months of hiking in Korea’s mountains. Korea is latticed with trails of all sorts of descriptions. The real beauty of Korea and its trails is that its all public land and none of it is fenced off (apart from closed sections within national parks for conservation), meaning that with good maps, hiking ribbons left behind by Korean Hikers, and an adventurous heart, there is nowhere in this country you can’t walk continuously. It has a topography unique to no other country, and despite its modernity, it continued to produce on countless occasions moments of tranquil rural and social bliss, and let’s not forget it mountainous religious culture of Buddhism, and Shamanism. Korea is untapped and waiting to be walked…to be continued!

shamans dance the full moon away

dancers of beomeosa

anywhere we want too...

(bodhisattva) standing buddha of gwaneumbosal - samneung valley

the matreya buddha above chilbul-am in namsan

main buddha of chilbul-am

namsan is an open air museum

me wandering around namsan

the 7m seated sakyamuni buddha of seokgayeorae

standing buddha of baegundae

namsan pagoda

goheon-san with gaji-san in background

gaji-san, a great mountain

lots of tagging in namsan...

nrth from gaji-san

youngnam alps

after shinbulsan in youngnam alps

team gaji

pencil thin rock star

 another jeong-maek to explore and then a bag to moor…for now!

Sasong-am, Jirisan.

September 30 – KNTO Exhibition

It was great to see all of my Korean friends at the photo exhibition, they have been with me a long time and I thank them kindly for taking the time out of their busy Chusok schedule to see me, a special thank you must also go to the publication team of KNTO for putting on a professional show. However, a day after the opening, I fled the large entrapments of Seoul desperate for the mountains of this pristine early autumn weather.

one of the photo stands

my temple buddies from sanghwan-am

October 01 – Back on the Trail

It was October 1st, so I took the midnight bus to Taebaek City. Once there I slept at the terminal and early the next morning I went about getting myself some wares for the hills. I was here for the annual Dangun-je, a festival held in commemoration of the mythological founder of Korea, Dangun d. 2333BC. The colorful event is held at the summit of Taebaek. On its flat bald peak is an ancient altar called Cheonje-dan, meaning ‘heaven worship platform’. Historians claim it was built during the Shilla period (4BC-9AD), but its location as a place of mountain worship means it could be aged as timeless – a pagan remnant - as is the case with prehistoric places of worship. I had been to Cheonje-dan once before whilst walking the Baekdu-daegan in 2007. On that occasion it had appeared in the distance as a black block of rock perched on the distant horizon. Walking to it, passing the lower altar of Han-dan, and the numerous twisted Jumok-Namu’s (Yew Trees), had been quite a weird moment at the 600km stage of the walk. To return to this place on such a special day was just as great. I walked the short 4km trail to the summit from Dangol-valley, passing the shrine to Dangun, the founder of Korea. The beautiful trail was kaleidoscopic in faded greens, new gold’s, and burnt ochre’s. The mountain stream sparkled its way down the valley, quenching one’s thirst just with its presence. It was late afternoon by the time I got to the summit. The weather was blustery and Siberian. The winds were now starting to creep in from the north, off the Asian continent from Siberia. However, this set what was a typical scene for this great altar, a barren place, exposed to the elements of the East Sea at 1550m absl on a wind-swept peninsula of the world. The large formation of the oiled rocks that make the open-aired circumference of Cheonje-dan, brooded there on the mountain top like a sleeping bear. Cheonje-dan had been roped off with hemp as a sign that no-one should enter its confines before tomorrows events, this included the shamans that frequent this mountain top every night of the year. I pitched my small tent on the summit, just me, the shamans, the harrowing Siberian wind, and the 8th full moon as it danced with the racing clouds……what a night!

determination on taebaek

Sometimes I would go for a walk up to the upper altar of Janggun-bong, where shamans go to practise in silence……an eerie unbelievably ancient inky black silence. Facing north, the visitors to Janggun-altar stand or sit there like stone statues for hours. I would then walk back to Cheonje-dan and stop to sit with the mountain shamans there. Hidden in small groves of trees, they would sit there facing north, patting their cymbals or gongs with melodic grace, the cosmic drone reverberating through the ghoulishly windy shimmering night. In tune to the metallic clashing of the gongs, they would sing or chant their hymns, not a haunting noise, more a ghostly lullaby……stunning! This is how I slept that night in my tent……to Siberian wind, quaking moon-rays, and roaming shamans……the energy there.

October 03 – Cheonje-dan the 4334th birthday of Korea, as we know it?

Global Pilgrim Martin Gray on Taebaek-san

The next morning I awoke to an eastern horizon that looked like the orange layer inside a glass of tequila sunrise. The clouds that hung low where the East sea would normally join the horizon looked like orange blood swimming through water……puffy turmoil’s. Once the sun had risen higher in the eastern sky (about 9am) only then did it start to warm up. Persons began arriving at the summit, organizers, participants, dignitaries, etc. National Geographic Photographer Martin Gray from http://www.sacredsites.com/arrived having walked over from Manus-bong. Professor David Mason from http://www.san-shin.org/had brought Martin to the site as part of his tour though the Korean peninsula for additions to his very popular website. We met one of the dignitaries for the event whom gave us free reign over the site for photography purposes, but before that, we were bullied by a bunch of old ladies to dress up as traditional officiates. Being man-handled and ordered to strip by a bunch of old ladies on this windy ancient sacred summit was a classic moment to another great day in Korea.

these young fellas just wanted my pic with them

sleeping at sacred summits

cheonje-dan, heaven worship ceremony at taebaek-san

After the event it was a walk back down the mountain where we met David Mason, who then took us on an afternoon jaunt through the Taebaek back country visiting small temples and shamanic sights. We had a few drinks later on in the evening, where once everyone had gone to bed, I snuck off and slept in a bus shelter, equipped with TV, coffee machine, and warmth. 

David Mason and Martin Gray admiring a sanshin (mountain spirit) painting

October 4 – Buseok-sa

The next morning we all met up again and jumped into David’s car and rove through the back-blocks of Korea, stopping by and visiting temples. Near the end of the day we ended up at the famous temple of Buseok-sa, a place that I had stopped over on my 2007 Baekdu-daegan walk. As it was a beautiful sunny Sunday, the place was quite busy with sightseers and families. This was where I was to leave Martin and David, as they were heading back to Seoul the next morning, a place I had no need nor desire to go too. We ate dinner, and said our farewells in the now empty dark car park. As they drove off, I turned to wonder where I was going to sleep. I had decided to stay in this area and walk from Buseok-sa, north up a spur, back onto the Baekdu-daegan, and then turn west for 20kms before turning north and descending down onto the other side of Sobaeksan, the name of the mountain system on this part of the Baekdu-daegan ridge. One of the small supa’s was still open, so I walked in, bought enough food for three days, and a bottle of soju for tonight, and then walked across the car park towards Buseok-sa. I wandered slowly up the back road to the temple under the glistening full moon, my pack full, bar water. Very near one of the side entrances to the darkened temple, I found a grassy tomb located on the back side, of the lip, of a small knoll. Here out of the obtrusiveness of early morning locals I set up my bivvy for the night. The flattest piece of grass to sleep on was along the top of the actual tomb. So after I had eaten, and sipped my small bottle of rice vodka, I inflated my thermal mat and stretched out along the deceased. There under the thundering full moon, I didn’t feel scared. There under the glaring full moon as it radiated on my face, I didn’t feel intimidated. There on top of the unknown deceased, I didn’t feel invasive……no, here I felt alive, welcome, and peaceful. As the full moon arced over the night sky from east to west glowing across my sleeping face as it did so, I slept happily and safely……energized.

 October 5 – Buseok-sa and Sobaek Mountain System

main prayer hall of buseok-sa temple

The next morning I awoke and found that my thermal mat had punctured and deflated, perhaps a crude and omenish reminder that I should be a bit more respectful of where I sleep. I ignored the signal, packed up and moved on. Entering the quiet still realms of the temple of Buseok-sa, there was barely a soul around. A monk passed by and I stopped to tell him what I was doing……that I was going to walk up the spur behind their temple onto the Baekdu-daegan. He looked at me, a little astounded, and put my outrageous remark together with my large pack and cocky demeanor, and with is hands gestured that I had better get going then.

sobaeksan mountain buddha

With that, I bombed up on water from the spring and lugged me and my pack up to the back of the temple towards Bonghwang-san 819m. On my way through the temple I met an old guy sweeping the grounds. He was standing on the path in front of me, he asked me where I was going. I told him I was going to Bonghwang-san, and then onto the Baekdu-daegan. He told me I couldn’t use that route, I told him to go suck and egg, walked past him, taking a wide berth beyond the reach of his broom and continued up the hill. I wondered if this was another omen from having slept on a grassy tomb under the 8th full moon of the year. Just before I was about to walk out of sight of the old man, I turned to see what he was doing. I saw him with his cell phone, calling someone I guess. No one was going to bother to follow me up here this early in the morning and tell me to turn back, what right did anyone have anyway, this was a temple, it was built on land given to the temple users by the local people some 1500 years ago……no one owned it, not even National Parks whom managed the area……suck eggs! The challenge had ruined my mood, but in a sense it sent me up the steep spur with haste. About 20mins later, I stopped on a small ledge and turned to look back and listen to the early morning calm. I saw the beauty that it should be, shards of dorsal like peaks and ridges that shimmer across the horizon like a vast continent. I heard no one following me, no one calling out to me to stop, so in the cool air of the quiet dawn I let out a bellowing bark that could only be recognized in Africa…the Chacma Baboon. I hoped that the silly ignorant old man with the straw broom down at the temple heard it, and I hoped that he wondered if I had been a ghost passing through the temple  on his way to nirvana, but because of his interjection the ghost was now an angered demon, not an angel. Would the old man die tortured if he knew that? Focused, released, I turned back towards the forest and walked up the energetic ridge……it was brilliant. About an hour and a half later I got to the node of the Baekdu-daegan, I stopped and put my pack down. It was cold in the windy shade, mild in the sunny wind, the sky was clear and blue, the sharp wind invisible. I had been here before, two years ago, perhaps very close to the same day, perhaps a thousand years ago? I turned west and walked along the mother of Korea, through the mottled forest. I took in its interior and saw how majestic it still stood. The floor of the forest was like a well used tide pole. The bottom now a copper brown, the next two to three feet yellow like the batter on a piece of fried fish, the upper forest still green like starlit emerald. I walked and walked and walked, until it got near dark, where I ended up at a sanshin-gak (mountain spirit shrine) located at a pass called Gochi-ryeong. There I set up camp on an old concrete heli-pad, lit a fire, patched my punctured thermal mat, ate some food, drank some coffee, watched the fire some more, counted some stars, listened to the night, and went to sleep.

October 6 – Sobaeksan Sanmaek – Mountain System

 It was at this time of the year at the top of a ridge in the beginning of the winter months in Korea, that a tent is useful. I awoke and everything outside the tent was hanging in damp cold moisture. I waited until the sun broke onto my camp before I packed and left, washing at a nearby spring in the meantime. I walked again, back up the ridge that is the Baekdu-daegan, higher and higher, the wrong way. Halfway through the day I got to the track junction that I needed to turn north onto to leave the ridge to get to the otherside of Sobaek. I was leaving the province of Gyeongsangbuk-do and entering the other province of Chungcheongbuk-do, just like peddlers, travelers, monks, soldiers, and cavemen did before cars, tunnels, and roads. I walked on the spur towards the mountain of Sinseon-bong 1389m, the vegetation here noticeably different in colour to the south side of the ridge. Here there was less green and more red, although only minimal at this stage in time. I stopped to climb the rocky crop of Sinseon-bong and take some photos. From there I continued north descending towards the temple of Guin-sa arriving in that area some many hours later in the dark. I ate and slept there.

October 7 – Guin-sa

The next morning I arose and felt the grey pang of the north, bleak but strangely beautiful. This was the third stage of the four seasons that I have so far walked through. Having begun this walk in very very early spring, I had walked from tinkered brown, to virgin green, to wet jungle green, to dying green, and now to a mustard yellow, that was going to rapidly turn into other forms of red, orange, brown, and then die. I packed and walked into the gates of the temple of Guin-sa.

guin-sa

The place was located up a steep valley, a new temple in that it was only 40 years old. A break away cult of Korea’s Jogye order whom have been practicing Mahayana Buddhism, the latter form of the original Theravada form of Buddhism since the 9th century. Guin-sa was some sort of fusi-formed version of Theravada, Mahayana, and Daoism. I wondered if the people in here were sane? Guin-sa has the capacity to accommodate 10,000 persons, it was like a miniature city, it even had a Post Office. The people here were friendly though, the atmosphere was good. I went to the temples kitchen where I was feed, and given extra compliments. In appreciation I went to the prayer hall and did ‘Jeol’, 108 bows. I liked Guin-sa, it seemed to work, the energy was good. After Guin-sa I bussed it to the magic small city of Danyang, and for a change slept in a Jimjuel-bang (sauna house) for a couple of bucks.

October 8 – Yamabushi Enlightenment – Tojo Dogs

Now I was to change my schedule a bit and meet photographer Martin Gray on a train heading south towards the National Park area of Jirisan in southern South Korea.  I jumped the train, and we cruised through the great countryside that is the shigol until we got to Gurye. From there we transported ourselves up to the strong temple of Hwaeom-sa. We slept there for four nights. During that period I had to go to another great temple in Korea called Beomeo-sa located near the 400km Nakdong-ridge in Busan.  I stayed the night at Beomeo-sa, as I had to write an article about that place. It was celebrating its 1331st birthday, and the place was alive. Initially I had felt somewhat put off by the large numbers of persons there, but as I wandered around the temple grounds I saw that  everyone was praying and singing sutras, perhaps a thousand people at once, not a shrine or hall empty…there was truly a lot of energy here…a place of worship, a sacred site. The following are some pictures of those days, before returning back to Haweom-sa, a temple with outstanding Geomancy, the best I’ve seen and felt yet……well that is apart from my secret hermitage that I’m going back too next year. Fly high Apsara.

courtyard of hwaeom-sa

vixens flaunt the gaurdian gate of beomeo-sa

taeung-jon (main prayer hall) of beomeo-sa

prayer service at beomeo-sa

mass service at beomeo-sa in busan

more sutra from beomeo-sa

mass jeol at beomeo-sa

woman in traditional dress for the 1331st birthday of Beomeo-sa temple

tea time

more from the remarkable service at beomeo-sa on its 1331st birthday

More on Beomeo-sa on the next post…

The warrior monks of Daeheung-sa during the 1592 Imjin (Japanese) invasions

Status Update

It’s been a while I know, but here is a brief update of the last month. I left the high happy grounds of Sanghwan-am Temple in Songnisan with some good news that I had been appointed as an Honorary Ambassador of Tourism to South Korea by the Korea National Tourism Organization. Adding to that was that they wanted to exhibit 50 of my photographs alongside the finalists of their 2009 tourism photo contestants…check out the quirky media release. So I whisked myself off to Seoul to meet the staff of the publication team at KNTO and edit a selection of 50 plus photos for them to frame. The exhibition will be held at the lobby and gallery area of their building near Jonggak subway stop on Line 1, in Central Seoul on Wednesday the 30th of September. The ceremony for the finalists starts at 3.00pm. The photos will consist of a collection of works from the 2007 Baekdu-daegan Expedition and this year’s Jeong-maek Expedition. I’ll be there on the 30th.

cruising the great shigol - 2007

New Hiking Strategy

As a result of the above incidents, I have now stopped walking the Jeong-maek’s, and am now searching for long-distant hiking routes within Korea. I wish to promote to the outside world the incredible network of topography in this peninsula and the unbounded freedom it possesses for those that like the idea of roaming it freely and safely, which is exactly what you can do in this intriguing and sometimes frustrating part of North East Asia. This idea for a change of strategy is just one of those revelations that derive inside the head of a man after he has already walked 1200kms of mountain ridge in one season. Someone recently described it to me as intensive meditation…indeed, long distance hiking is definitely a lonely search for spirit, idea, and inspiration – the panoramas, and great social interactions are just some of the highlights that keep you motivated as you trudge along. There is also another deep meaningful side to long distance travel that could perhaps only be best explained later on in a travel story…it entails the pleasures of roaming homelessly across a foreign land…and of all things being greatly appreciated for it by the locals you meet…hardly a reaction that you would now receive in the disdainful, modern capitalistic lifestyles of the supposed better off world of the West…where people lock themselves behind walls in their homes, and fence their land to keep people out.

Camping out in Gyerong-san

Saunterers were once a revered race of people in Europe, now the idea of living hard and being semi-detached from society is seen as a wretched, unworthy, or just a plain criminal act by the trapped souls of modern suburbia. The graciousness of that now drug-fuelled or zealot driven paranoid society now, only exists in a secular fashion, or when it comes to boasting charity events…and before anyone back in the West objects, let me just say that this opinion is an overall generalization based on governmental policies, consumerism, and propaganda…it is not a reflection of the good folk that still see people above materialism. Free Independent Travel in a Western Society is now mainly a glossy brochure-ed muck of rampant glee and crass commercialism, there’s nothing soul-searching in it at all, and it’s just another way to waste money.

Shrine area of Seondo-am in Gyerong-san

Gyerong-san

Crook as a Dog, I decided to explore Gyerong-san, but due to the illness I picked up in Seoul I was only good for one days hiking, and had to spend the next two days sitting it out in my tent at the Gyerong-san campsite. With the goodwill and care of the camp manager Mr. Lee, I had a good relaxing time and after a trip to the doctor for some antibiotics, I managed to recover somewhat…God, medicine is so cheap here, I didn’t even have any medical insurance, but still got looked after well. In the time that I did manage to explore a bit of Gyerong-san, I managed to attend some interesting events in this heavily shamanic region of Korea. I will return to Gyerong-san again, and do it properly.

Sanshin-je at Mungolcheonji-am in Gyerong-san

Sudeok-sa

I had been asked by Korea Times to go to Sudeok-sa and visit their temple stay program there. Before that I managed to do a couple of days hiking in the Deokseon Provincial Park of that area near Seosan, Chungcheongnam-do. I had the pleasure of meeting the very jovial and friendly monk, Ven. Jung-hyun.

Taeun-jon at Sudeok-sa

Sudeok-sa

Calling the Decadent to come forth at Sudeok-sa

It was a great temple stay and the powerful capital of Seon (Zen) Buddhism put on a good show with the early morning and late evening prayer sessions in their inspiring Taeun-jon (Prayer Hall). There is a great story about the founding of Sudeok-sa Temple. About 1400 years ago there was a beautiful woman called Sudeok. She would come to a location at the current temple site and pray on a rock there for a temple to be built. A handsome young man called Deokseon whom lived nearby, hounded her for her hand in marriage. Sudeok finally relented on the grounds that he builds her a temple. The first construction of the temple was cindered in flames as it was believed that the man’s intention to build the temple was only for her hand in marriage. He rebuilt it again, only for it to burn down agin, mysteriously. On his third attempt he prayed every day for its safe completion and the temple was subsequently built. He asked for her hand in marriage and she accepted. They spent their first night of marriage at the new temple, and when he tried to court her, she refused him. He became angry and she fled his demands, running into the rock that she used to pray on, disappearing into its grain. One of her shoes remained behind, and an impression of a flower can now be seen on the very rock that sits behind the temple today.

Sudeok-sa

Sudeok's Rock from which she vanquished into...

Daeheung-sa

After leaving the temple grounds of Sudeok-sa, I transported myself all the way down to the southwestern corner of Korea in Haenam-gun. I slept the night out in a Jeong-ja, and then walked early the next morning up the impressive road – landscaped with semi-tropical forest – towards the temple of Daeheung-sa.

Taeun-jon of Daeheung-sa

Sunim Moo-in calling all to awake...

Early Morning Prayer at Daeheung-sa

I was to stay the night here as well, covering a story and temple stay program there. The next day I went for walk into the mountains that surround this enigmatic place. The area surrounding Daeheung-sa has some great walking and hermitages to visit. The next day I had planned to visit Mihwang-sa, further south from here, but got invited to stay another night at the Seon (Zen) temple, and as it was raining, I though why not. It is from the hermitage of Ilji-am, high above the main temple of Daeheung-sa that I write this post.

Hikers on Nusong-bong 688m in Duryun-san Provincial Park

Lunching out on Garyeon-bong 703m in Duryun-san Park

The awesome 9th C.AD Maitreya Buddha of Bukmireuk-am in Duryun-san Park

Perhaps tomorrow will see me do some more hiking. On the 29th I return to Seoul for the exhibition on the 30th. After that it might be Taebak-san for the annual Sanshin-je at Cheonje-dan, or Sudeok-sa for their Chusok celebrations, or I may roam the valleys of Worak-san for a week….hmmmm, the life of a homeless bum ain’t so bad.

The Cloud Bridge of Duryun-san Provincial Park

The sleeping Buddha of Daeheung-sa - Head on far right, hands on belly centre middle, and feet on far left.

Ben Olthafer, Stephen Lynn, Travis Lynn at Sanghwan-am

In 2006, it was one lone New Zealander. In 2007 it was two intrepid New Zealanders. In 2008 it was an American couple, and now in 2009 it is two American Brothers that walk the Baekdu-daegan.

WHAT IS THE BAEKDU-DAEGAN?

the route in korea

For those whom probably don’t know, the Baekdu-daegan (White Head-Great Ridge) is the mountainous backbone of the Korean Peninsula. It stretches from its highest peak, Baekdu-san 2770m on the border with China in North Korea, for about 1600kms south to South Korea’s highest mainland feature, Cheongwang-bong 1915m in the central southern region of Jirisan National Park. In its purest essence it is the watershed of Korea, a continuos ridge that is never broken by river or stream. It is the ecosystem of this lavishly fertile and rich smallish peninsula from which 75% of its landscape is mountainous. Equally important are the Baekdu-daegan’s spiritual and quasi-animistic religious virtues, as an iconic representative of the spirit of the Korean people. As a catcher of water, so to with it, comes life, and with life comes human vitalism and energy. The Baekdu-daegan as an example of a micro ecosystem on this planet does exactly that for the Korean Peninsula; it provides life and energy for all living and forming living entities. It is the spiritual energy line of Korea and to walk it poses the hiker with the chance of being spellbound by its holistic energies. To be on the Baekdu-daegan and witness this enigmatic ecosystem of beauty, life, and freedom first-hand is as good as standing in Heaven. Here on the Baekdu-daegan we are not cast in the shadow of mountain, we stand on the roof of all creation for this peninsula.The virtually unknown Baekdu-daegan is probably the best way for an experienced hiker to visit and explore Korea, with or without language skills. The hidden bizarre mountain sub-culture of Korea is probably one that will be discovered slowly but surely – by those that search only for sub-cultures – new sub-cultures that exist right under the very noses of society. 

2006

While the Dharma Bums and the Zen Freaks of the 50’s and 60’s were making their ways to Tibet, Nepal, China, and Japan, the land bridge between these great civilisations, little old war wrecked Korea, was fortuitously overlooked. But its mountain sub-culture has slowly re-emerged from its caves, villages, and valleys, since the aftermath of Japanese subjugation and Civil War, and has now begun to rekindle its lost mountain identity and culture amidst the new-wave of Westernisation and Christianity that took over Korean society as a result of (and understandably so) economic aid and recovery by the west. In its green bladed hills, there is still a plethora of hidden Monk trails, soldier trails, partisan trails, foraging trails, and just plain old trails in Korea waiting to be rediscovered and hiked. All those trails knit onto the 14 jeongmaeks that exist in both North and South Korea that then connect to the Baekdu-daegan and stem north to the mythological birthplace of Hanban-do (Korea) at Baekdu-san…the only lump of land (and inaccessible) that connects the Hermit Kingdom of Korea to the rest of Asia, Europe, and Africa.

Chris Meder 2008 (photo Lizz Riggs)

During the final stretches of my stay here at the pristine environ of Sanghwan-am Temple, the Lynn Brothers, Travis and Stephen arrived in Songnisan, where I rendezvoused with them at the highest summit in this spectacular National Park, Cheonwang-bong 1058m. After making a hard ascent to get to the crest of the Songnisan ridge, they then made the hard descent to the temple located about 800m absl. Overtaken by its peaceful charm, they stayed for three nights, quelling in its geomantic energy. Buddhism and Shamanism is as much a part of the Baekdu-daegan as hiking ribbons and rameon (noodles) are. The two brothers were privileged to experience a piece of Buddhist culture by staying at Sanghwan-am, and the opportunity gave them the chance to sample a bit of Buddhist art, procedure, and background to the make-up of temples in Korea – including the attached shamanistic deities. On their last night here, they were joined by a fellow American Ben Olthafer, and the brace became a trio.

birobong in songnisan

hiking songnisan

 

 During their stay high in the mountains, over dinners and mountain views, much was discussed about Long Distance Hiking and the virtues that this possibly last act of freedom holds for mankind – especially in what is now an ever increasing restrictive and over-informative world. Was it possible (as in my last post) to walk and survive forever, did that feeling of walking forever make you a better wiser person etc. Following in the spirit of the great Pioneers, Poets, Writers, and Explorers of the frontier age, was it possible for that past spirit of adventure to survive (or be sought) in what is now a glossy well catered for Anglicized world of brochures and guide books for mummy boy, and girl travellers…were there still guys out there doing it, travelling free, recklessly, and into the unknown, getting drunk with the locals, getting lost with the locals, getting confused with the locals, getting pissed off with the locals, falling in love with the locals, getting into the groove of the locals and their landscape?

munjangdae

 Now, I’m not suggesting that South Korea as a destination is on par with say what Mexico, Tibet, Nepal, Mozambique, Bali, Siam, Burma, Afghanistan, and other great mysteriously named places like that once were, and some may debate, still are new frontiers worth exploring. Certainly, those places when first travelled by westerners were great corridors of smoky freedom, sensationalism, and new ways, from whence arts, philosophies, and religions were returned to the west via the post-war travellers of the aeronautic transportation era of the 50’s and 60’s. Was it then possible…that in an ever increasing unsafe world, that the safety of a ridge called the Baekdu-daegan might become a new small frontier of freedom and travel? Many foreigners in Korea may even dispute that Korea’s mountains are not on par with the Himalaya, Rockies, and Andes of this world, and indeed you don’t have to be an ice-cream vendor to know that? In fact people that normally make those types of comments, often have no experience in the outdoors anyway. For if they did, then they would at least listen, and then they would discover that in Korea, far away from the beaten routes lies thousands of kilometres of trail that dapple the mountainous landscape of the peninsula. And in fact, if they studied it harder, then they’d realise that all those trails, including the ones that start at the back of their congested apartment blocks, all eventually end up on the Baekdu-daegan, where the three Americans currently are. It actually is possible, in this country to roam it safely from ridge to ridge, from temple to temple, from small village to small village, from stream to stream, from peak to peak, in a completely confused state! Despite the modernisms of Korea, it actually is possible to wander away from the 25% of the landscape that makes up its cities, and then fall into a world where little or no English is spoken, and local religious, folk, and shamanistic customs remain as a hidden, almost xenophobic mystery. With a smiley face and an unflappable attitude one can discover just about anything.

housewives practising shamaism on the baekdu-daegan

cheonje-dan baekdu-daegan

maeyo-ri boy-racers - baekdudaegan

The mountains of Korea might not be as high as those of the great continents of this world, but they are high on life, as all life starts on the Baekdu-daegan. They are rich in beauty and outstanding panorama, because when you walk the mountains of Korea, you indeed walk on the roof of all cultural, spiritual, and geographical evolution for this peninsula that stretches back millennia. The only shadows you walk under are those of the clouds, stars, sun, and moon. On the ridges of Korea, your eye can orbit the horizon endlessly – and then suddenly after months of walking you can see, way over there, on the distant blue horizon, behind those twisted gnarly dragon spines that are the hardy tough mountains of Korea, your ‘start point’.

the baekdu-daegan

nav-stop

And when on the Baekdu-daegan, as you stand there and gape at the dorsal blue shards of mountainous Korea that surf across the landscape, you feel in the whispering cool zephyr that willows up from the valley, the original ancient energy of its landscape, peoples, religions, customs, and ways that once, and still do exist here. This force emanates from its mountain temples, mountain villages, stony summits, boulders, pinnacles, cairns, steles, altars, shrines, monuments, stories, tombs, shinsan-daes, warbles of elf-like native pines, sunsets, sunrises, moons, clouds, stars, fortresses, fortress walls, buzzing cicadas, streams and rivers, natural colours, hiking ribbons, Monks, Daoists, Confucius’s, poets, artists, soldiers, farmers, foragers, hikers, ghosts, and all the folk, that prosper from the Baekdu-daegan Mountain System.

hiking ribbons on the baekdu-daegan 2007

scaling the baekdu-daegan

 

  It’s all there, it’s not an easy sell, and it’s not an easy walk. There are no brochures or books (about to change) to tell you how to do this. This isn’t a well trodden route, and you follow your own compass…in the end making for yourself your own mind maps, your own collection of images, and your own free way.

When you get to the top of a mountain, keep climbing.

tension and humour on the baekdu-daegan

 

 

 

 

 

the baekdu-daegan

jammed on the baekdu-daegan

teamwork on the baekdu-daegan

travis lynn doesn't like ropes

sunsets on the baekdu-daegan

the hanbando peninsula

My walks have started similarly, with long grandeur pilgrimages that banally trudge through rooms of mountain enchantment. Through this trait one learns about the stickability of long distance hiking, experiencing its elements of determination and uselessness. With this, the art of long distance hiking isn’t about being on a long-motion roller coaster ride of romanticism and wonderland, it’s more so about wandering with determination into the uselessness of the unknown, and maybe there lies your true wonder! The up-side to the search process is that the walk itself represents one of the purest forms of freedom a man can experience that is augmented with outstanding vistas and memorable social encounters. If one ever finds the end to his long distance walk, and at that end, the feeling is in an uncomplicated and unexplainable good feeling, then the journey may be considered a success, or worthy.Three expeditions, 2000kms later, and it took only six days of hiking in Songnisan to feet like this…was it the end, hell no, this was just the beginning!

this way i think?

The title of long distance hiking for the purist is just the safe recreational replacemnet word for the real art of ‘sauntering’ or the ‘plight’ of pilgrimage. How far could one modern man in a modern world walk before being labelled a saunterer or a man with no land?

Day 1 – Sanghwan-am to Gyeonhwon-seong (fortress)

I packed my pack and literally walked out my bedroom door, informing the temple-cook that I wouldn’t be back for at least five days and not to worry. She worriedly added another 5kgs of food to my load before allowing me to disembark – or was I embarking? The conditions were bleakish and damp. I ascended up to the Baekdu-daegan ridge and turned north toward Munjang-dae some 4kms away, it was a Monday, and a good part of the week to start a 5 day through-hike. I arrived at Munjang-dae, and took no interest in climbing to the top of the round boulder that marks its summit, and instead quietly slipped into the bush to begin a hairy descent on a closed trail down towards the ancient fortress that I wished to sleep in. The last time I was on this route I had ascended it. The, course then had been very tricky with lots of old fixed ropes and steep drop offs to handle. I figured that going down would be harder than going up, and wondered if much had changed? The 3km of trail took me about 2 hours to complete, the course sometimes forcing me to tie my pack onto the end of the rope that I was to lower myself down onto. Unfortunately visibility was poor so the numerous great vistas I would have normally have had on this leg vanished into the thick mountain cloud. I got to the track-junction which exposed an old eastern trail to an inaccessible ancient fort called Gyeonhwon-seong. I arrived at the fort and inspected its perimeter. It was a classically large fortress with a 650 metre circumference built during the Shilla period between the 10th and 13th century. One side of it was slowly under reconstruction, the remainder swallowed by the forest. I had the luxury of erecting my fly-camp on its south-western turret. Despite the shrouded ridge of Songnisan, I still fortuned great views down the valleys towards the temple of Seongbul-sa. I felt high and mighty in this ancient palace and slept accordingly as the inky night fell on my fly camp 800m absl. I kept watch on the turret.

Day 2 – Gyeonhwon-seong to Suan-jae

Weather conditions had picked up and the day started off beaming hot. I walked back off the fortress onto the trail, collecting water at the road pass 5kms later. A disused rangers hut was unmanned, so I slipped back into the closed section and began my ascent to my next high feature. At the next feature, I was standing on the Baekdu-daegan again, but instead of following its course northeast, I was now going to turn northwest and walk along a ridge to a peak called Baekun-san at 856m.

It was exciting to be walking off the beaten track, the unknowingness of my progress keeping me going. The terrain became tough and rocky. Large fixtures of white granite boulders blocked the way, and the trail would either descend around them, or traverse directly over them…the latter being the preferred route of the Koreans. This method of course provides many great natural viewing platforms from which one can stop and enjoy the views. Once at Baekun-san, I stopped to observe the thin vertex of ridge before me. Low on water I figured I wouldn’t be able to sleep out on a mountain peak tonight, unless I could find a source near the ridge, the thin crusty ridge ahead of me weakened that prospect. I dropped north off Baekun-san onto the chalky ridge. Its stunning rocky features provided a maze of twisted trail that clung to the sides of white boulders on a foot of sand or an inch of white rope. I began wondering about why it had taken me so long to find such fabulous hiking routes? As evening arrived I finished the rocky ridge and began descending into a saddle called Suan-jae. At the saddle I had the choice of either going east, north, or west. The directions east or west were my only two options for water. I took the western route down to a mountain shelter where I was permitted to camp on their premises. The good folk of the shelter fed me watermelon on my arrival and kindly invited me for dinner later on. I slept a fitful night under the grove of a forest next to a stream, the darkened interior creating a playground for mosquitos. Despite the good hospitality of my hosts, I yearned to be back on a mountain top in its cool air, away from flies and mosquitos, out of this darkened woodland, and out of earshot of the anxious dogs of Korea. It felt stupid to be so close to humanity again, lured by its fickle desires.

Day 3 Suan-jae to Gukja-san 836m

I awoke at the early hour of 0530 to the sound of the pathetic little lap dog tied up outside the shelter. I decided to pack up there and then and take coffee and breakfast up on the ridge somewhere. On the way out I passed the yapping mutt and skilfully cast a small rock into its right eye, it let out a horror yelp, before breaking back into its chorus of yap. I looked over my shoulder wondering if the kind owners of this overgrown rat might have woken to see who the culprit was that harmed it. I walked out of the shelters grounds to the ray of early morning sun and the song of bird…gleaming to get back to the ridge, I remarked how proud I was to still have a good arm. I stopped at the fork in the stream, refuelled on water, bombing my belly bloated on this precious commodity. At the fork I took a track that would take me back to the ridge about 500mtrs ahead of where I had left it. Under the neutral light of the early morning, the old trail soon disappeared into the interior of the forest. On a bearing, I crashed my way north straight up a thick spur, arriving at the ridge an hour later, it was still early. As the heat increased the condensed interior of what was now a tall stand of green forest came alive with the gnawing interference of bush gnats. These pesky creatures buzz around your ears non-stop. They feast on your perspiration as it is fresh and sweet. The art is to ignore them and deafen yourself in their drone. When one gets to a break in the forest and finds an opportunity to stand on an open rock in a sparkling icy zephyr then the gnats disperse back into the dark warm shade. This is just one of those banes of mid summer hiking.

rest stop

I arrived at my next trail junction located on a wooded peak and quickly ate the three peaches the kind owners of the now one-eyed lap dog, had given me the night before. I turned northeast and began another breathtaking walk along the back of another boulder ridge speckled with native pine. In the blazing hot sun, the white gritty pathways were sprinkled with tiny atoms of granite rock that glared up at my sweating face. The pack on my back pulling at my burnt shoulders, my tongue fizzing for moisture, I felt alive, like I was wandering a lost planet looking for civilisation, it was an amazing sensation all heightened by the landscape.

ridge walking

An hour later I descended off the spur onto the stony banks of a mountain stream. On the other side I saw some families making use of the facilities available to them for picnicking. It was a quaint scene, until I saw the filthy act of litter before me. On my side of this fresh – doing its best to sustain human life – mountain stream, were disgusting vile piles of garbage. This scene is unfortunately not uncommon in Korea, although it’d be fair to say that for the amount of persons that use recreational facilities in Korea, the percentage of litter one encounters is probably quite minimal on that ratio. However, allow me to say that no amount of litter is acceptable, and when I see such acts in this country I quickly generalize that Koreans are lazy arrogant primitive imbeciles. Although, I know this not to be the case, what would a group of visiting foreign hikers think in the short conclusion of time they have to make a generalisation of a country and its people? As I crossed the stream, I hung my head low in shame and didn’t sop to speak to these middle class consumerist morons that raped the river. Manic on enjoyment, they seemed foolish and ignorant in their uneducated non- appreciation for the subtle beauty of nature…this place might as well have been an amusement park! On reaching the road I stopped at a store and purchased a cold coke, it tasted good. I sat and studied the litter on the side of the road, I wondered who (apart from those that put it there), were responsible for cleaning it up? This was still National Park land, where were those poofters that work in it? I never saw them ranging the ranges as a ranger should, and now I never even saw them enforcing infringements…what type of person were they I wondered? They gladly closed trails but never manned them or seemed to physically protect anything inside their national parks, a far cry from my efforts as a ranger in Africa, where I risked life for nothing.

seonyu-dong

I walked away from this horrible contrast, marching 3 kms on the road until I reached a spot along the river called Seonyu-dong. In the space of 3kms I had walked out of a pristine forest, onto a polluted mountain stream, and back into a piece of Korean charm. Seonyu-dong was strangely unpopular? Here there was barley anyone, but here there was a beautiful little store and restaurant, alongside a fresh clean mountain stream that had a weir in it creating a swimming hole. Above the swimming hole was an ancient Chinese scribe. Here Pungsu-jiri was strong, the energy of the place committing. A small population of locals and young people shared the area.. I would never have found it if I hadn’t been walking. I stopped ordered lunch off the delightful old couple that ran the joint. I then walked the short distance up to the swimming hole, tore my filthy clothes from my earthen exterior and under the urge of the young teenagers, dived into the cool cider like water. My body chiselled through the most precious commodity this planet has. Summer hiking in Korea, has its rewards!

summer time swimming in songnisan

the rock above the swimming hole at seonyudong

mermaid...

seonyudong

After swimming, I dressed and returned to the mountains. Breaking from a used trail, I bashed through another unused spur and reached the brim of the ridge about 1km west of the Gukja-san. I instantly began looking for a camping spot. Soon I was fortunate enough to find a rocky mound that jutted out over the ridge providing me with monstrous views of the summit of Daeya-san located about 7kms southeast of me on the Baekdu-daegan. I brewed a dinner and coffee and with the mountain apsara’s I slept under my bivouac in the quiet peaceful surroundings of the dark mountain air, here was my home!

campsite 3

Day 4 Gukja-san to Soguemgang

I awoke and drank more coffee, staring aimlessly at the large panorama before me. I once again began to marvel at the remarkable landscape of Korea, noting how large it looked, but knowing how small it was…amazing! I packed and left, heading northeast along this ridge towards Gukja-san.

morning coffee from camp 3

 I arrived at its marked peak and then turned north towards my next feature of Gunja-san some 6kms away. The thick cloud cover that had set in over night and had now increased into a blanket of mountain fog that began to swim through the forest. The wind changed to the west indicating to me that rain or a storm was approaching. I threw on some wet weather over-trousers to protect the only pair of trousers I had. It was a long walk to Gunja-san, the ascent to its peak taking an hour and a half. At the top I heard the voices of other hikers. I walked out of the wet bush onto the small summit area, the friendly crew instantly inviting me to drink soju with them. As I was wet, this was a good idea and I toasted the summit to them. I then walked the 2.5kms down to the road pass at Sogeumgang.

sogeumgang camp 4

It was a very steep and arduous descent in wet slippery conditions, and it hadn’t even rained yet, this was just mountain monsoon condensing on the slopes of the mountains. I admired the tenacity and will of the previous middle-aged hikers I had met at the summit, whom had made the mid week effort to climb this tough peak. As I reached the bottom of my descent, the heavens opened and the rain fell from the sky like a shattering pane of glass. I hurried to a nearby by Hyugaeso-so (store) and sheltered under the leaking awning there. It was already 4pm, so under the invitation of the two friendly ladies that ran the place; I camped on a piece of land next to the river, from whence I bathed in.

Day 5 Sogeumgang to Samhyungjae-bawi

The Korean summer rose from in the early morning dawn to a cool clear crisp day. Today was going to be a corker; you need not be a genius to figure this. The late afternoon downfall from yesterday had acted like an overnight fridge. The atmosphere was now clean and blue; Korea was going to put on its finest display for me. I drank coffee and water, packed my pack and walked back into the mountains. I was excited to be here, this marvellous through-hike had given me an outstanding understanding of this remarkable National park.

trail wonder

The route I had hand-chosen from a good map had kept me off the more popular routes giving me a sense of abandonment at the same time, the views had been outlandish each day. I walked to the trail-head marked by a new Hyugaeso. I wanted to eat a hot breakfast and walk on the remains of that for the rest of the day, allowing me to carry less food. I also knew that I had to guzzle down as much water as I possibly could so as not to encroach on my 3 litre reserve that I carried in my pack. The owner of the Hyugaeso came out and I asked him if the kitchen was open, he said, no, but invited me to eat with his family. After that moment of Korean generosity I walked up a river pathway towards the summit track to Chilbo-san. The river that flowed alongside me was remnant of the fine volcanic rivers of the central plateau of New Zealand, it was another wonderland, and I was the only one on it. Before my trail broke from the crystal waters of the mountain stream, I sat on a rock in the middle of its wake and drank copiously from its swell.

the river from chilbo-san

I threw my pack on and began the trudge up to Chilbo-san 778m. The forest was cool and spacious. The bush gnats had disappeared, the forest was too cool for their liking. The air in the forest interior glistened and radiated green in the suns ray; it was like being inside a green bottle. I arrived at a saddle on the ridge, the eastern route signposted as closed. I ignored this, and walked east towards Akhui-bong some 5kms away. The climb to my first feature of Siru-bong was long and tough; the high ascending trail remained lush in emerald montane forest. After reaching the summit the lonely trail turned southeast and entered a new lost world. Here the trail suddenly broke from the forest and began a fascinating course over moon-scaped orbs of white rock. The views were incredible, I could see the Baekdu-daegan where it joined the trail I was on, and broke east towards Worak-san National Park, and south back towards Cheonwang-bong, near Sanghwan-am.

the farthest ridge features cheongwangbong on the left and munjangdae on the centre right

 Stopping frequently to take photos, the trail was harnessed with fixed ropes to aid the walker up and down the steep faces of the mountain moonscape. At Akhui-bong I rested and took water. I looked back towards the distant peak of Cheonwang-bong, located above my temple of Sanghwan-am. It looked a long way away. I hadn’t been paying attention to any distance I had covered, focusing more so on water preservation, and sleeping where the trail took me. I had rather discreetly covered some mean distance in the large circular route I was attempting.

the way to akhuibong

At Akhui-bong I was now about to turn south and start walking along the Baekdu-daegan, back towards my start point, some distance away? I was amazed, this landscape that was in, had so many hidden treasures…fortresses, fortress walls, abandoned mountain shrines, temples, lunar landscapes, plateaus of white rock that I slept on, breathtaking sunrises and sunsets, fingers of mountain mist, and an active and very much alive micro eco-system that one could quite literally watch unfold before them, how could I leave it? I entered the green fold of the Baekdu-daegan. I had been on this trail twice before, both times going the opposite direction. It hadn’t changed, it was still intact, it didn’t seem overused, it still held its magic, it always had, for thousands of years it had done this…the Baekdu-daegan, the forgiving mother and eternal lifeline of Korea. I was no stranger here on this closed and abandoned section of trail, the Baekdu-daegan and I reconnected as I listened to the soft rustle of her flora and smelt the soothing complexity of her aura…I was in her tunnel of love on a long corridor of nature. Some hours later and with the day nearing an end, I left the clutch of the Baekdu-daegan and broke west from her about a kilometre short of Jangseong-bong 916m.

from akhuibong

 I had seen from the ridge, some spectacular rock formations on a spur that ran west from the Baekdu-daegan, I wanted to sleep there. The trail dropped abruptly into a steep saddle and then ascended straight up a rocky trail fenced with fixed ropes. Not wanting to drink much water, the heat of the day was starting to get to me, but I continued on, determined to get to the rocky plateau. I go to the top of the first feature named Makjang-bong; I noticed it stood at 868m high. I dropped back down another steep drop-off and pulled my way back up the next feature. Soon I was on the lunar like landscape I had noticed from afar. It was well worth the effort, it was brilliant. I tried to set up a bivouac before darkness, but kept getting pulled away by the views. I gave up, insisting that it wouldn’t rain tonight, and instead brewed a coffee and started a dinner. I couldn’t quite take in what I was seeing. I laughed to myself, noting how lucky I was to be here, wanting to share it with others. It was silent, the world was silent, and the air was still, the rocks frozen on the mountainous horizon of Korea. The sun began to set, I stopped to praise it, and it filtered away like a blob of molten lava, vanishing into a pot of gold. God, what an ending!

campsite 5

orb

coffee time

Day 6 Sanghwan-am

I rose in the morning from my mountain fortress. The cold air of the night had sucked in some mist, spoiling the sunrise for this morning. I hung around on my empire. At about the 0900hrs the sun broke through the morning calm and streaked the mountains with golden beams of energy. Suddenly the whole mountainside awoke. The cicadas broke into chirp and the song of bird sprang through the woods. With the flick of a switch the eco-system of Korea, here close to the Baekdu-daegan, had recharged the sleeping environment into action. I walked off the spur and onto PR517.

morning from camp 5

my home

I walked about 3kms to an intersection and spent the rest of the day hitching back to Sanghwan-am. Taking my time I would stop at small towns and drink beer with the locals, casting my name across the countryside of Hanban-do, before finally walking the last 5kms from Songni-maeul up the mountain to where I had started at Sanghwan-am. I got there about 2230hrs, showered for the first time with soap in 6 days and barley slept. My body tuned into the night, I lay next to my mountain stream at Sanghwan-am altitude 850m, the circle complete.

korean skies