Another benign week has begun and I'm trying my best to ride out the butt end of another brief few days of jubilant escapism. ...that week began two Mondays ago, and I'm still struggling to catch up with myself. 'Real life' moves along, while 'real good life' is all too infrequent. It seems easiest to think of how little time we are able to spend on the things that mean the most to us, when we are forcibly caught up in the moments we'd rather part with, or avoid entirely. I digress; back to the weekend, of two weekends past.
This 'weekend' took me to the rugged peaks of Mount Seorak (Seoraksan), nearby to the northeastern coastal city of Sokcho. Formerly part of North Korea, up until the end of the Korean War, Sokcho is famous for the majestic mountains of Seorak National Park, stuffed squid, and some wicked good fried chicken. If there's more to the story of Sokcho, these are the more important matters, in my book anyway.
Of course, like every good tale, we begin with an ominous weather report; Saturday calls for 9mm of heavy rain, with a gracious bottom coat of 3-5mm of precipitation beginning Friday night, followed by a 2mm shellacking continuing into Sunday morning, just to seal the deal. Did I mention this was a hiking trip? With soggy expectations we set out to the Seoraksan Tourist Hotel for a restful Friday evening (i.e. only a 6-pack of Cass and a 2:30am E.T.B.). It was the general consensus that we should do our best to ascend as early as possible in hopes of avoiding the most torrential parts of the day (expected to begin in the mid afternoon).
7:00am and we were ordering our $12 bacon and eggs breakfast at a large, unoccupied restaurant at the base of the mountain. I was in a surly mood because after a 4 hour nap, the advertised menu options on my breakfast special were entirely unavailable. In fact, I was shut down more times than the fat, crater-faced, smelly, drunk, moron with a mullet at the senior prom. "No tomato juice." snarks our amiable Korean hostess. I request the apple. Still no go. Orange it is. "Meat?", she inquires. "Sausage, please.". "No. Bacon". "Alright then ma'am, what else shall I be having for my breakfast?" I don't think I said that last part out loud...not that she would have understood me anyways. My over easy eggs came sunny side up, my hashbrowns consisted of three solum tater tots sprinkled on the plate, I received coffee instead of tea, and it was only the last two items that separated my breakfast special from the $7 bacon and eggs option. Oh, and of course the fact that I had a choice of meat...right...
7:30am The rain had evaded us, at least for the time being. It knew it's presence was not welcome in our company. As I stepped outside into to the fresh dew of the morning and glared up at the jagged brown peaks that towered over us in every direction, my mediocre meal was all but forgotten. To retreat from the concrete swamp that is Seoul and to find yourself in such a place as this, was polarity at its pinnacle. The air tasted sublime and didn't seem to be killing me with every inhale. Wildlife was melodically performing their morning routines. And as we set off on our trail it became apparent that we were to be trekking along a crystal clear, boulder laden river for the duration of our first leg. Too bad the food is shit, or I might never leave this place.
13 kilometers and roughly 4.5 hours into the hike and we've crossed bridges, clambered up steep rock sections and stopped to take far too many pictures. It's hard to resist a photo-op when you're awestruck at the invasive beauty of your surroundings at every eyeshot. We now find ourselves but a few klicks from our original point of departure and the impending precipitation is doing little to discourage the crew from pursuing one more 4-km jaunt up an unimaginably steep forest trail so we may reach a cave with some sort of indentation where spring water flows that's supposed to add a year to your life with every sip. Life tends to follow a pattern whereby enjoyable exploits significantly decrease your life expectancy, so this seemed like a pretty novel idea. This small cave, only about 10 meters deep, also contained a modest Buddhist shrine and a monk on site who I'm pretty sure lived up there, at least for the time being, probably protecting the shrine and waking up to the most unbelievable sights each day from his 1,500m perch. Even when the rain started to pour down and eventually soaked us to the bone, this was well worth the walk. A little cloud cover was hardly enough to damage the staggering views from the peak. After putting in the work, we were without a doubt reaping the rewards, as we were able to to eye-fuck every peak, valley, crack and crossroad in sight. Thanks, also, to a generous gift from a fellow hiker, who stopped us specifically to give us this liquid offering, we made a ceremonial toast to the mountain maidens from a can of fine
makgeolli (Korean rice alcohol), likely reversing all positive effects from the spring of life and restoring our livers to their normal laborious life.
As we made our way back to the base we were now sopping, shivering, yet seriously high spirited. A quick stop for a much improved meal of Pa-Jeon (fried Korean pancake with a flour and egg batter, with squid, green onion, peppers and cabbage) and a few soups and it was hard to do much but sit back and sigh.
Safely situated under a tent, filling our empty bellies with warm comforting food, as the weather turned torrential. We'd overcome the elements and emaciated any ill expectations. I suppose it's only when one is apathetic to the option of anything going wrong, that the eventual outcome always sides in ones favour.
