Jeju

This past weekend was a three-day long weekend. Early last week it dawned on me that this would likely be my last chance of making it out to Jeju Island, so on Tuesday I bought a ticket on a whim. My flight would leave from Gimpo Airport in Seoul at 7:30 pm and arrive an hour later, while my return flight would leave for Seoul at 6:55 am. Basically, I'd have all of Saturday to see as much of Jeju as I could.

Thankfully, there was only one thing I needed to see: Hallasan (Halla Mountain). I think the reason I wanted to climb Halla so badly was because of the fact that it's on a mountain. The last time I hiked on an island was Maderas Volcano on Ometepe Island in Nicaragua, and it was one of the most rewarding, beautiful sights and experiences of my life. I dunno, maybe the fact that it's on an island makes it feel a bit more otherworldly. One thing was for sure, though: If all I got to do on Jeju was see its peak--the highest peak in all of Korea, mind you, standing at 1, 900 metres--then I'd be happy.

I arrived at B & B Pan Guesthouse at around quarter past 9. It was a quaint little place; I was really happy with my choice--particularly because Martin, the owner, played nothing but delicious jazz in the main room. That was the only reason I booked the place.

Martin showed me to my room, where I met Seng. He was on vacation from Singapore; although he didn't look like he was having much of a vacation; he looked exhausted. It turns out he had hiked Hallasan that day and it completely wiped him out.

I unloaded my stuff and went out in search of a beer or two to tide me over after five hour bus ride to Seoul, 40 minute subway ride to Gimpo Airport, and an hour-long flight to Jeju. Not quite plane, train, and automobile, but pretty damn close. The beers hit the spot, and I headed off to bed, ready to tackle Hallasan in the morning.

Breakfast was eggs and toast. I asked Martin afterwards for directions to Gwanseoram, the most challenging trail up the mountain, but he insisted I take Seongpanak. It's the one easier trail that goes to the top. He said it's a gradual ascent, and the entire hike typically takes 8 hours--four hours up, four hours down.

I asked him what he suggested I do or see after my hike and he scoffed at my question. He scoffed! The guy sitting across from me said he hiked the mountain two days earlier, and he passed out at 7:30. So maybe Hallasan would suffice, then...

After a surprisingly long bus ride, I arrived at the entrance to the trail at exactly 9:00. I was informed at the front desk that I had to be at the checkpoint, which was about two thirds up the mountain, by 1:00 if I wanted to climb all the way to the top. They also made people start making their way down from the peak at 2:30. Suddenly I was on a schedule. Fortunately, I didn't see it taking me five and a half hours to get to the top.

I stocked up with three water bottles and a couple water bottles and started on my way.

The entrance was heavily forested, and I immediately felt the humidity. Martin was definitely right about the  incline, though; it was practically non-existent. Martin was right; the incline was practically non-existent. 

Now before the day even started, I had made up my mind that I would make My Head is an Animal by Of Monsters and Men the official soundtrack to my hike. I could not have made a better choice. The entire day, I kept feeding off of the energy of the music. I felt it right off the bat. I found myself blazing past people, skipping and dancing along the rocks to the heavy beating of the drums and the loud chants of "Hey Hey!" on "From Finner." You know how how it's easier to go running with other people, or while listening to music? It was kind of like that; I wanted to keep pace with the song.

Then I came to this beautiful wide part of the trail. It was tranquil, complete with a wood planked path. This was the perfect time for "Yellow Light," with its light lullaby marching beat sound, like you're walking off into the light, towards your sweetest of sweet dreams. I couldn't help but press my hand against every tree that I passed, as if in a warm greeting.

I soon found that I had a new companion, though I didn't know his name. The kid was probably 7 or 8, and no matter how quick I moved, or how many people I passed, he'd eventually run to get ahead of me until I caught up with him yet again. Part of me hoped that he'd keep this up the whole way, but part of me also wondered where the hell his parents were. To his credit, though, he kept up with me for a while--that is, until he had a bit of a fall. He stopped after that. I was kinda bummed, but oh well.

According to Martin, it should've taken me two hours to get halfway up the mountain, so I was a half hour ahead of schedule. I figured I could afford to take the detour to the observatory. Unfortunately, the detour led up a long, long, loooooong flight of stairs...and I hate stairs. I climbed up those steps foolishly fast, and it was here that I finally started to feel some pain in my legs. I had to stop halfway up to catch my breath. I was bent over the railing, breathing heavily, and my calves were burning. A guy coming down even asked if I was okay.

I pushed through the pain when I saw the top of the stairs, and man, was it worth it. The song title says it all: "Love, Love, Love." I thought to myself, "Yes, this is where love comes from." It was palpable.

I couldn't take my eyes off the water; it was so damn still. It was like the whole scene was frozen in time, in that moment you always wish you could go back to, just before everything fell apart.

I continued on along the bridge to the beat of "Dirty Paws," and the lake put me in such a good mood that I found myself clapping along to the beat. I even high fived a woman walking in the opposite direction. She didn't know what hit her.

Even the stairs that met me at the end of the bridge couldn't dampen my spirits, because I knew what was waiting at the top of those stairs: a gorgeous panoramic view. Now although the view was obstructed my clouds, it was actually pretty cool to be standing in the clouds.

After enjoying the moment, I headed back to the main trail and continued on my way up the mountain.

It was around this time that I first realized the signs that marked your progress along the trail also indicated when the trail started to reach the "medium" difficulty, which was about halfway, and then "hard" difficulty, which was about the third or quarter of the way up. Martin wasn't kidding when he said the climb was gradual. I decided to take a break at a resting stop halfway up a seriously steep set of stone steps. I might need my energy later on.

The difficulty certainly did pick up from there. It also got harder to pass people. By then, I had mastered the art of passing. My strategy was a combination of the stealthy ninja with a bit of the quick thinking of racing thrown in; I had to pick just the right time to make my move.

The difficulty of the trail didn't stop this daddy from making the hike, though!

Then around the 1, 600-1, 700 metre mark, a mist came in out of nowhere! It was as if I had suddenly poked my head right into a cloud. The thick haze came so quick that it caught me off guard; I didn't think how this could affect my hike later. At the time, I just thought it was neat.

Now just before the 1, 800 mark, it started getting really cool, and a light misty rain started coming down. I could handle the chill and the rain, though; it was the stairs that killed me. So many stairs! My calves were screaming, begging me to stop!

I took a break at a resting area and pulled out and opened my last bottle of water. I also ate the two chocolate bars I'd bought, which I had been saving for the top. I donned my hoodie, relaxed for a good five minutes, and continued on.

In the last 100 metres, I stopped five times, not including quick stop and go's. My calves didn't just ache anymore; I was certain I tweaked something in my left leg. Every step sent a bit of a shock up my leg.

During one of my stops, I drank the last of my water. Well, sort of...I didn't realize when I'd bought it that this particular bottle was half ice. I had drank all of the water, but there was still a huge chunk of ice. I smashed the bottle against a rock in hopes of crushing it into little pieces, but just then, a Korean fellow pulled out his water bottle and poured almost all of the last of his water into my bottle. Love them Koreans.

Three hours after staring out (excluding the half hour to and from the observatory), I found myself at the mountain's peak, and it was a full blown party! It honestly looked like people mingling at a social soiree...at the top of a mountain. Only problem was you couldn't see shit! Ad the mist had gotten bad enough that I felt like I was at Niagara Falls.

A rare selfie atop Hallasan. "What a beautiful view!...maybe..."

Unwilling to let the weather detract from my moment, I found a flat spot to lay down, covered my face with my hands, and floated away into the clouds on the sounds of "Yellow Light."

As soon as the song ended, though, I realized just how much my back was aching. That, combined with my rubber legs, surely meant a long and difficult climb down the mountain. I walked down the first flight of stairs, and dread seized me, as I realized I was 3 to 4 hours from flat surface. Throw in the mist, slippery and wet jagged rocks, and mud to muck up any remaining grip on my shoes, and nothing good could possible come of this.

Sure enough, 40 minutes into my descent, my right foot slipped on a rock, propelling me forward. Everything moved in slow motion, which gave me enough time to think fast about where to plant my feet on the next set of rocks below me. My eyes found a flat surface, but my momentum and that son of a bitch gravity kept me from stopping, and so down I went again. This time, though, I couldn't find a flat surface to plant my feet, and I found myself saying, "Allons-y!"

My feet landed on uneven rocks and I couldn't maintain my balance; my right leg crumpled, and I fell on my right side. Oddly enough, upon making impact with the ground, I let out a laugh. I didn't know what else to do. I figured it could've been a million times worse; I could've been impaled by a much sharper rock, or cracked my head like a walnut. I've realized over time that I am very lucky in my unlucky ways. It's kinda like my crappy super power.

I got up, inspected the damage (tiny scrapes on my right hand and minor bleeding on my right knee) and I continued on my way. Now both legs were aching, though, and there was a slight twinge with every step. Fantastic.

I had a couple of close calls after that, but no more falls. I couldn't tell what I dreaded more--the pain from climbing down a never-ending number of stairs, or the fear of the craggly rocks just waiting to knock me out. I think it was the damn rocks, though; they were like crocodiles at the bottom of a pit in an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.

I will say, though, there is one thing I hated more than going down stairs: going up them.

Nifty bridge

Thankfully, once I got to the bottom third of the mountain, things got significantly easier again, and I even got the skip back in my step.

Pretty view of rocks I didn't have to traverse.

Crossing a dry river bed

In no time, I was at the exit, where I spotted a 7-11 and rewarded myself with water, Snickers, and beef jerky. I hailed a cab to the bus terminal and proceeded to pass out.

Kilometres hiked: 18.3

Elevation reached: 1, 900 m

Elapsed time: 6 hours

Shoes destroyed: 2 (I knew Hallasan would be their swan song. They served me well.)

Moountains conquered: 1

Once back in the neighbourhood of my hostel, I rewarded myself yet again; this time, with pizza.

After a much-needed shower, I asked Martin where he could recommend I spend my only Saturday night on Jeju. I was putting a bandaid on my knee as we spoke, and as I went to apply the first one, Martin's four-month old Tabby cat jumped on my lap. With my Band-aid stuck to one of my fingers, I had no choice but to pet Peng with my other hand. After a solid eight minutes of quality petting action, I gently put Peng down. The little guy gave me just enough time to apply the first Band-aid before pouncing back on me. I was in love.

Eventually, I put the little guy down and insisted he stay down. Once I was free of Peng, Martin directed me to a bar called Space Marley. I took a half hour power nap and made my way there. The place was as amazing as the name is stupid: very.

1: They had Moosehead.

2: This is what the inside looked like.

3: The owner has a collection of over 3, 000 vinyl records and who knows who many CD's lined up along the wall behind the bar, and customers are able to request any song or artist of their choosing. If there was a place like this in Toronto, I would be there every week.

The sounds of Buena Vista Social Club welcomed me as I climbed the stairs to the place. I loved it already. There were only 3 customers and one server in the entire place, and I didn't have the energy to be social; I just wanted to drink in peace and listen to some good tunes. Unfortunately for me, Choo wasn't having any of that.

I sat down at a booth, ordered a Moosehead, and requested some Bob Dylan. I was in heaven. After "Mr. Tambourine Man," some 80's pop song came on, and this huge guy at the bar was singing along rather comically. I exchanged glances with the bartender and we both laughed. The guy saw me and apologized for his singing, but I couldn't help but laugh and tell him that he sang like an angel. And with that, my new friend from Busan invited me over to the bar. I couldn't say no.

For the next couple of hours, after Choo's wife and her friend went home early, he and I were a party of two. He even had me dancing to Jamiroquai (anybody remember Jamiroquai?) and Earth, Wind, and Fire. Agne, the sweet bartender from Lithuania humoured us the whole night.

Despite Choo's insistence and the offer of yet another beer, I eventually had to call it a night when 11:00 hit; I had to be at the airport at 6:00, and I didn't want to sleep through my alarm. I went back to the hostel and slept like a baby.