A Hike in Korea – Bukansan National Park, Korea

A Hike in Korea
Ilsan & Bukansan National Park, Korea

It had been more than a month since I first landed at Incheon International Airport in Korea and moved to my new home in the city of Ilsan. Suffering from a mild case of culture shock I made a concerted effort to cope with the ever-present air pollution and attempt to make myself feel somewhat at home.

After a month in Korea, I still hadn’t formed a routine or groove. I was living in new country and submerged in a new culture. There were so many things that I wanted to do. I wanted to try new foods, learn some of the language, and educate myself more on the history of the region. Although it had nothing to do with learning about Korean culture, a “must do” for me was to start getting in better shape. What better way to do this than start hiking? It was something I always loved to do in Canada.

Now to begin with, as a newby to this country, where could I go to hike? Coming from a small town in Canada I was used to nature surrounding me. The guesswork was taken out of hiking, but here I was clueless. Everywhere I looked, all I saw were apartment buildings. I had no idea how to get out of the city and get back to nature so to speak. I turned to one of my new coworkers for a little help. Plans were made for the following Saturday. I’d soon be off to discover the rocky wilds of Korea – or so I thought!

I can’t be sure about the time now, but I know it was early in the morning when Bernard began pounding on my door. His Saturday morning enthusiasm level was much higher than mine. In my semi-conscious state, I quickly sorted out my gear and threw a lunch into my daypack. This would only be a short hike so there wasn’t need to bring much (I’m afflicted with the curse of over-packing). Then we were out the door and off to the subway station, a fifteen-minute walk away.

It was about 9:00am when we reached Cheongbalsan Station and made our way to the platform. Bernard grinned as he watched me and told me that I’d get a kick out of the number of Koreans heading to our destination. It was obvious that many of the people on the subway platform were planning on hiking, but there were a few things that immediately struck me as odd.

The number of would-be hikers gathered on the platform was frightening. There were literally dozens of people milling about, adjusting their backpacks and tying their boots tighter. If the sheer number of hikers didn’t frighten me, the way they were dressed certainly did. Everyone seemed to be covered from top to bottom in what appeared to be a, “hiking uniform.” Most people had very clean and new looking backpacks, overstuffed with what looked like at least two weeks worth of rations and clothing. These packs were adorned with carabineers, rope, crampons, bear-bells and little tin cups, all in preparation for their mid-April day hike. Most people wore vests covered in what seemed like dozens of pockets and all with aluminium hiking poles in hand. The women wore layers of makeup as if they were heading out for a night on the town. Everyone seemed to be wearing knee-high, multi-coloured socks pulled over their pants. It seemed more like an outfitters catalogue run amuck than a subway station.

We hopped on the train and about 30 minutes later reached Gupabal Station and it was time to get off. Bernard told me that we would have to take a bus from the station to Bukansan National Park, where we would spend the morning hiking. Apparently there was no possible way we could miss the bus stop.

We climbed a flight of stairs that led us from the subway station and back into sunlight, where I was immediately struck with disbelief. There were scores of would-be hikers lining up to catch buses to the park. The line-ups were anywhere from 50 to a hundred people-long. Everyone bearing oversized packs, walking sticks and their trusty knee socks. The sidewalk was lined with vendors catering to the throngs of Saturday adventurers. Some sold hiking equipment that was completely unnecessary for a three-hour trot through the woods, while others sold fresh bananas, oranges and other snack foods. Some just sold beer and a type of firewater, called soju, cherished by all Koreans. Everyone pushed and shoved for a chance to cram themselves on an over-packed bus and leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind.

We soon arrived at the park and walked the short distance to the entrance. It was a beautiful April morning and the sun was shining brilliantly. The brown and white granite cliffs of Bukansan rose above us in a majestic fashion. Earlier I had thought that all signs were pointing to a pleasant day in the great outdoors, but as I walked past the expansive parking lots filled with cars, scores of elderly hikers pushed and shoved past us. I knew this would turn out to be a truly bizarre day.

We paid admission and made our way up the first leg of the mountain. There was a paved stretch of road leading from the entrance of the park to the area where we could find the trailheads. It took us about 20 minutes to walk this rather steep paved strip of road, and as we made our ascent we noticed that many of the Korean hikers choose not to hike, but to take taxis and vans from the entrance to the main “staging” area.

Once the paved portion of the road ended, the trailheads began. This area was bustling with activity. There were gift shops galore and plenty of make shift restaurants. All of the out-door seating was already filling up with hikers eating lunch and swilling large bottles of beer (it was only 10:30am). I felt confused as I attempted to absorb what was happening around me. I was suffering from some sort of sensory overload. Bernard simply laughed. He had been here several times and understood what I was going through.

We made our way to one of the main trails. It began just past a small Buddhist temple. The smell of the prayer incense hung sweetly in the crisp morning air as we began our ascent. In the beginning our pace was brisk as we tried to make good time, but Bernard seemed to pull further away and had to slow down so I could catch up. After a quick rest, we were off and as usual, constantly having to make room for those passing us as they descended from the summit. Hikers were everywhere. There were young couples, seniors, small children and everyone was pushing and shoving in an attempt to get to the top. Well-dressed women were talking on cell phones; people were perched on rocks tapping away at laptops and small children staring blankly at Gameboys as they lurched up the hill. I even saw a man scrambling up the trail wearing a business suit. Was this how Koreans got “back to nature?”

We continued trudging up the hill. It was a beautiful spring day and the trees were all beginning to form buds. The air was indeed clean and fresh compared to that of Seoul. I suppose this was part of the reason why everyone left the city for places like this on the weekends. Indeed, it seemed as if the entire population of Seoul had fled and were now pushing and shoving each other as they made their way to the top of Bukansan.

Most of my hiking experience comes from slogging it through trails in Eastern Canada. Pristine trails where one can at times hike for days without ever encountering another human being. Hiking for me has always been a way to reach some sense of harmony with the outdoors and experience the wildlife and beauty nature has to offer. I was used to wide-open expanses, but had been shell-shocked during my first experience hiking on the other side of the world. I’d seen the sheer numbers of hikers, the cell phones, the laptops, the knee socks, the overkill packs and the early-morning drinking. I had been stared at by what seemed like every passing hiker. I was often leered at as if to say, “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t possibly hike wearing such casual attire!”

As we approached the remnants of an ancient fortification perched on a bluff, it was clear that we were close to the top. There would only be a short distance to climb before reaching the summit. The view from this vantage point was already starting to shape up quite nicely, and I could already look down upon the hazy metropolis of Seoul. Even if this was a short climb to the top, there were far to many people for my taste.

As we took a left turn at the fortifications and began to climb the final 200 meters, we were abruptly forced to stop. The pause was necessary because there was a long and winding queue of hikers snaking its way up the remaining portion to the summit. There were literally several hundred hikers, calmly standing in single file, waiting for their turn to shuffle slowly to the top. Shaking my head in bewilderment, I joined the queue and stood there dumbfounded. Bernard looked at me and laughed some more as he said, “Welcome to Korea, Kevin.”

We would soon make it to the summit and spend few minutes enjoying the hazy view around us. As I looked down I could see Seoul on one side of the range and several small cities on the other side. The air quality was quite poor and the visibility wasn’t great, but it was still enjoyable. It certainly wasn’t Kilimanjaro or Denali, but I was on top of a mountain in a new country. That on its own was at least a cool thing.

After a brief lunch, more elderly Koreans shoved us as we made our way back down the trail. Our descent was quite speedy, but Bernard, for my sake, had to slow down on several occasions. Once at the bottom, I bought a small box of incense from a monk at the temple and we made our way back to the bus stop. It was early afternoon as we passed through the main restraunt area. The smell of Korean pancakes and noodles was in the air and tables filled with Korean hikers slammed back beer and soju. I wonder how many of these people actually hike and how many just show up to drink outside?

On the way home Bernard and I laughed about some of the ridiculous sights and experiences we had that day. Bernard, a Kiwi and myself, a Canadian, were used to a very different kind of hiking. Hiking with few people and an abundance of wildlife. Just you and the trail I suppose.

Hiking in Korea is a different beast altogether. Hoards of people flee the city every weekend to hit the trails. It seems that it is as much about exercise as it is about “being seen.” So much time and consideration is obviously put into fashionable hiking attire and makeup. People hire drivers to take them to the halfway point of a mountain while some just get drunk and forget about hiking altogether. My first hike in Korea was definitely one I’ll always remember. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with the way people hike there, it’s just different! Although it was a very strange experience, I’ll always smile and shake my head fondly when I think about it.