Today I was on a mission.

The mission was to secure this…

This is perhaps one of the most coveted things in the Korean hiking community, the elusive National Parks Hiking Passport. The National Park Service only release a certain number of these each year and getting hold of one, especially in the Seoul area where Bukhansan National Park is pretty much your only option, can be as difficult as spotting a flying pig.

Thanks to a rumour I heard on the Hiking in Korea Facebook page, I was poised and ready to be at Bukhansan for 10am on 1^st October when the alleged release of another 1,500 of these was expected. I had been warned not to be complacent, these passports disappear within a day, and that warning was true. As soon as I had mine safely in hand (it felt kind of like winning the lottery – the £1000 kind, not the jackpot – perspective is important people), I posted it up on FB and two days later people were saying they were out already.

Sorry, just to clarify, in case you hadn’t already guessed it, these passports, it’s all about stamps!

As I will be traversing the country shortly, including a stint on Jeju Island (and with a reservation to hike Hallasan – highest mountain in Korea), I am toying with the idea of making a touring route that just happens to take in all 22 National Parks, because, well, I could do that if I wanted.

I have to say, it is one of the lessons I am learning here on my trip, that I am free and able to do exactly as I please with regards to where I go and what I see. I don’t have to take anyone else into account. This trip is purely my own. Sure, I can listen to ideas and recommendations from other people (of which I have, and in some cases followed and was glad I did), but I don’t have to feel guilty about not meeting someone else’s expectations, or feel I am wasting time doing things that don’t really interest me. And I suppose when people look at me incredulously when I say I am a solo traveller and they gasp and say ‘why?’ (you would be surprised how many people are surprised, aghast, or worried about me travelling alone), this would be the reason. As much as there as times it would be nice to have someone to experience certain things with and talk to, in equal measure I am really grateful I don’t have to worry about anyone else on my trip. As a result, I have to admit I am learning to be a lot more laid back, less stressed out, and more flexible about my plans. So, there you have it.

Anyway, tangent aside, I’ve got my passport and have decided I am going to climb Baegundae Peak, one of the three major peaks here in Bukhansan National Park to feel I have firmly earned my first stamp.

Travelling to the park is incredibly easy thanks to the subway system (the two subway stations I used today were Gupabal, when I arrived, and Bukhansan Ui, when I left). From the subway stations there are relatively short bus rides (hold on tight!) or walks to get to the park. And as previously advised, following all the other hikers is perfectly valid direction advice…

The hike I plan to take is pretty straight-forward, plenty of people hike it (including small children I’ve learned), and in fact during my hike I am joined by about 500 other people who seem to have the same idea (it is the weekend after all). As I’ve said before, the company is appreciated due to this being my first National Park hike and I am not sure what to expect in terms of terrain and effort. It seems that Korea likes to label its hikes from easy to hard, but this really doesn’t tell you much as everyone’s expectations and abilities are different, and so you just have to try it yourself to work out how the scale relates to you.

Today’s hike I both enjoyed and hated in equal measure. I have explained this concept to you before. The scenery was well worth the effort and the path challenged me by changing from pavement, to dirt and roots, to stairs, to climbing a full blown rock face. But there was also sweat, pain, and lots of people.

The path I planned to take, well, it didn’t quite happen because once again having a basic colour-coded map and poor directional signs in the woods led to me adding a couple unexpected kilometres to my hike. I am glad I can at least read Korean though, because some of the signs and map names you can only figure out and match up if you can read Korean out loud, hear the sound of the word, and therefore work out the English equivalent that may be showing on the map or sign and vice versa (if that makes sense?).

I had only just collected my passport, gripped tightly after a hard won Korean/English contest with the park official trying to get me to fill out the appropriate information before he’d hand it over, and immediately stumbled across my first question of the day…

What is a ‘barrier free trail’? Well, I have no clue (and still don’t), but it didn’t sound like the ‘easy’ option I was going for today. I also couldn’t find it indicated on the map. So I did what I feel any sensible person would do…

I followed the nicely graded paved path instead.

And to be honest, for a while there, I did think this would be the whole hike. Maybe the Koreans really did make an easy, stair free, paved trail all the way to the summit? I laugh at my naivety now.

I can’t quite remember where the yellow brick road ended, but when it did, it turned into this…

But that was pretty fun actually. A bit of diversity. Hiking over dirt, rocks and roots is nothing new for me. To be honest, when I tell people about hiking in general, on the AT, or even showing them photos of some of the peaks I’ve been to and they do that gasping “Wow, I don’t know how you do that!” thing, I tell them exactly this, “I do it very slowly, one step at a time, and watch where I put my feet.”

And it’s true. I mean, look at me. I’m not the world’s best hiker. I am extremely average in every respect. And yet, I can sure as hell climb a mountain. And I really believe anyone sitting out there can do the same thing, just by doing it slowly, carefully, and one step at a time. So, maybe you should consider if climbing a mountain is on your bucket list too?

The higher I climbed, the more scenic the views become. When you stop and start to really examine the view, you notice all the little things, such as the tiny people on the top of the ridgeline, people who are rock climbing or abseiling on the rock face, even the massive Buddha statue that is buried in the trees on the mountain side.

I have to say though, the majority of people here don’t stop to look. If they stop, it’s for the bathroom, for food, or for the 587^th selfie of the day (I’m not joking here).

I take regular breaks as I go (mostly to catch my breath as I climb stairs) and even stop to sit on a rock, watch a flowing stream, and munch on my convenience store pre-packaged waffles. Yup, still haven’t got the lunch thing down yet.

It’s when I reach a moderately high point in the hike that the stairs appear in earnest. OK, well, I expected this by now. Head down, one foot, then the other. Keep going until I can’t breathe or my legs start to ache. Stop. Rest. Swig some water. And repeat.

It’s during one of these stair marathons that I hear the chap in front of me audibly gasp and stop, forcing me to do the same. I look up and…

Wait a sec. I see a flag flying from the top of a granite mountain. Hang on. How did I somehow fail to realise or research the fact that this mountain actually ends with a rock face climb with basically no footholds and a steel rope to hoist yourself the last 45 minutes of the climb? No one I spoke to when I mentioned this hike said anything about it.

Huh. Right then.

What I learned about hiking in Korea from today’s hike?

Shock and awe. That’s all I can describe it as.

I am rather shocked that a hike which up until this point had been rather standard fare and relatively accessible, though requiring a decent amount of stamina, would suddenly throw all safety caution to the wind and simply turn into a row of steel posts linked by thick strands of steel wire up a cliff face to reach a summit. Even more shocking is the clear ignorance along the route of the need for space of human traffic moving in both directions. The result, a total crushing sea of people attempting to slide or push past others on the side of a pretty sheer mountain.

I am in awe of the fact the Korean people totally take this in their stride. Like, yup, this is fair game and a totally OK outdoor pursuit. I saw people in normal trainers slip sliding their way both up and down the rock. I saw little kids being pushed or dragged up the cliff by parents. I saw people who didn’t want to wait in the queues barge past other people to get through, including individuals who then just started free climbing the rock face. How do these people not die?!

Looking back at this, it really was quite a horrible experience. Like all of the others there, I had expended a rather large effort to get to the peak, and so in order to actually ‘summit’ and take a picture I had to wait for an hour, balancing on the rock, gripping the wire rail, and questioning repeatedly why the hell I was doing this.

But you know the thing that really threw me? (Warning: major tangent coming)

Nobody was talking to each other.

I mean, if they were there with someone (which let’s face facts, this is Korea, people are never alone here) they would talk to their partner, but not to anyone else.

And I find that odd. Very odd.

And in fact, it is something that has been playing on my mind and bothering me a bit since I got here, but it was only on this hike that I really put my finger on it. My personal observation of the Korean people is this – they don’t talk to or interact with strangers. And I don’t just mean me, as a foreigner. I mean they don’t even talk to other Koreans they don’t know.

Now, depending on where you’re from, you will probably either be scratching your head and thinking ‘what’s wrong with that?’ or you will be like me and thinking ‘yeah, that is a bit off actually’.

And in order to really explain what I mean, I’m going to steal someone else’s words to do it (but credit them obviously). And the reason I am, is because the day after this hike, I opened up the Korean Times and read an article about this exact same point…

“The differences between Korea and England are both too vast to mention and shrinking in number as globalization and cosmopolitanism take hold. Korean weddings have pseudo-chapels, white dresses, and all the trappings of a British event squashed into a 30-minute ceremony. England has young kids gawking at Korean street food on Samsung smartphones listening to Aespa. Similarities abound. But for the past week, one difference has continued to dumbfound me.

In England, people still say hello on the street. They talk to you while waiting in queues. They quip about their husband’s cough. They tell you your old paper twenty pounds are no longer legal tender. Others chime in that the bank will accept them. They apologize when you bump into them. The level on person-to-person interaction among strangers is far greater than what one experiences in Korea. For someone who has spent a great deal of time in Seoul, the noise is almost deafening. While elderly people in Seoul might remark on the cuteness of children, you will not often see two adults who do not know each other exchanging pleasantries as they wait for a subway or an overpriced coffee. What sociologists would call the low context individualistic culture sees people talking to each other more while the high context collectivist cultures are more silent. It’s something more than just Confucian demands on language honorifics determined by age that creates this. This is not to say they Korean or British way is better or worse ― they are just different.”

By David Tizzard

And when I read this, I knew exactly what this chap was talking about.

Had I been hiking in the UK and had this same situation occurred (which, just to clarify, it wouldn’t), people would be chattering all around you. There’d be the general overall collective commiseration at the situation of having to wait, the passive aggressive group tutting of anyone trying to cut in, 15 inevitable rounds about the weather, exchanges about what you’d brought for lunch or what you’d seen along the way, and probably even a chat about what you’re up to after the hike “See you down the pub for a pint after then, yeah?”

Of course, I’ve noticed this everywhere in Seoul. And as a Brit who likes to converse in small talk with strangers, one of the hardest things I think I have dealt with here in Korea is this lack of social interaction. I’ve never really thought about it before at home, but now I am away and not having these everyday little conversations or exchanges (even if it’s an awkward glance, smile, or giggle at a collective situation), I am realising how important they are to me and how isolated I feel not having them.

And as I said, it’s not that the Korean people around me are doing these things and I am just not part of it because of some language or social barrier, it’s just that this experience is lacking totally from the culture here.

Wow. That was quite a large tangent. Sorry. Hope you stuck with me there.

Anyway, back to the summit, because by the time you’ve just read all that, I’ve shuffled a few more paces closer to the top.

It’s about this time I start noticing smaller things around me. There’s a dog, for a start. Not someone’s dog, just a dog. A stray. Up here on the mountain top. There’s also a cat too. The dog I feel very sorry for, because it clearly has an injured back leg and is therefore only walking on three. And if you are wondering why it’s here, well, there’s a population of stray dogs and cats in the city. Actually, while I’ve been walking and hiking around the city, I have seen feeding and watering stations for the cats, and cage traps set to catch the dogs. There are signs with both explaining they operate a ‘spay and release’ program for the cats and try to rehome the dogs.

I also see that some climbers have appeared with their harness and ropes, and if I look out into the distance, I can see some others still rappelling one of the other cliff faces.

I notice that the most obnoxious people up here are speaking English. I have no idea where they are from but they are incredibly loud and seemingly ignorant of everyone else around them who might be trying to enjoy a little bit of peace (including one who is playing music from his phone at a very loud volume and eating a hamburger while doing so).

I also notice that today is one of the first days since I have arrived that you can really notice the issue of fine dust that is such a problem for the city of Seoul.

It’s almost time for me to hit the summit, so I take a deep breath, and turn around to the two young girls behind me who look a little startled when I say excuse me in Korean. I then try to explain (in Korean) that I am alone and gesturing with my phone to ask if they would take a picture for me at the top. They are very kind and agree to do so…

Well, that 1 minute at the top was well worth the hour long wait *rolls eyes*

As I begin the rather dodgy descent with my life flashing before my eyes at a couple of points (note for future hikers here, slide down on your butt, much easier that way if you have short legs like me), I realise that while some part of me had a bit of fun today and now have yet another unusual experience to recant, I think I am a little bit over my peak bagging desires. At least here in Korea, if this is what future experiences are going to be like, I’d rather settle for a less travelled trail that has other aspects to offer than simply height. I’m OK if I don’t reach the highest summits in the National Parks, just as long as I come away feeling I gained something from the walk, even if it’s just seeing a new tree species I don’t know, or sunlight glittering on a stream in a pretty way, or a half hour break that lets me just really breathe; then I think I will be happy with that.    

I obviously made it to the mountain base without any incidents. I opted for a different route than my ascent, and so exited the park on the opposite side. A short 40 minute walk to the nearest station and home for a shower and to rest.  

I had planned a couple of other things to do on my last days here in Seoul, but my plans got somewhat scuppered.

I woke up the following day with severe pains in both my legs and across my chest. Sitting down and standing up hurt. That’s what I get for climbing a rock face. The hike has dang near killed me.

I wasn’t going to let it beat me. I went to the library for comfort (and discovered the nice upstairs level this time). More excitingly though, I had made plans for the evening. It just so happens that the very nice lady who has been my Korean tutor for almost the past year in England is here visiting Korea and in Seoul at the same time as me, and so we decided to meet up in person to say hello.

She kindly took me to Myeongdong Kyoja restaurant where we had this…

That’s mandu (dumplings) and kalguksu (handmade noodles with broth, beef, and other things). Yes, obviously both were delicious. And we followed up with some tea in a nearby café. It really was such a pleasant and unexpected experience for us to meet in Korea, and one I am grateful for.  

My joy in general was short lived as the following morning I woke up feeling even more like death (seriously, what did hiking this mountain do to me?!). Great, the end of my trip in Seoul didn’t end with a bang, just with snot and sniffles. Yup, I’ve managed to wear myself out enough that I’ve caught a cold. And just when I’m getting ready to go to Jeju too.

Well, what was I saying earlier about being flexible? I choose to sacrifice my last two city days to stay in bed with the hopes that I’m feeling better to travel. Everyone keep your fingers crossed and hope the next time you here from me it will be from the sunny climes of Jeju Island!