Breakfast was delicious. 대용 had everything ready by the time I came down (I had told him to text me so I could help, but he hadn't). He had different kinds of his mom's 반찬, and he had made soup and fried our fish. The soup was salty and he kept apologizing, but the flavour was good. He had given me a full bowl of rice, which I never finish at restaurants, but I felt obligated to eat it all. It wasn't too much of a chore, though; the delicious 반찬 was a wonderful accompaniment. Keeping in mind my travel issues, I made sure to eat a lot of the greens.
After breakfast we had some coffee and agreed to hit up Sokcho for dinner. He told me to text him when I'm on the bus home.
I got to Seoraksan around 10. I headed over to Sinheungsa (신흥사), the temple complex near the park pavilion. After snapping some pix, I headed back to the road which would lead me to Diamond Cave. Diamond Cave is a small, shallow cave which had been used by the monk Wonhyo as a meditation spot. I can see now how it could be very conducive to meditation; I can't imagine anybody in his right mind climbing the whole way there just to interrupt somebody's prayer time.
The first 25 minutes were easy: a slight incline running alongside a rocky creed. Around Biseondae (비선대) the trail began to get steeper. The last 30 minutes or so were fairly arduous, and just beneath Diamond Cave the stone steps ended and were replaced with metal stairs, complete with handrails.
When I reached it there was nothing to do except snap some pictures, drink some water, consult Moon for my next stop, and head back down. I had wanted to follow the 마등령 Pass, but I believe it was closed. Moon was a bit vague on this, I thought. I was looking for the trail near Diamond Cave as indicated in the book, but the actual sign was near the base of the mountain, and it was closed. Unless there's a hidden trail from the Cave, it was closed.
I backtracked to Sinheungsa, stopping by the creek to sit on a small boulder and have some 떡 and water, catching some sun and dipping my feet in the cold water.
The road north of Sinheungsa leads to Ulsanbawi (울산바위). Like the trail to Diamond Cave, the beginning was a wide path packed with people and teeming with small children, including those who like to jump in front of you and stop. Of course, adults do that too, but with adults, a 'why are you this stupid?' bump can make a point without serious injury, whereas with children I actually have to stop to avoid stepping on them. If I ever have kids and decide to go hiking for the Children's Day weekend, I think I'll leave them at home for some bonding time with Dad or Grandma or some other responsible adult.
About 1/2way to Heundeulbawi (흔들바위), or the Rocking Boulder, the trail began to get steeper. I was decently tired by the time I reached Heundeulbawi. A person, with a single, forceful shove, can make the boulder rock. A group of 20 people, with a single, forceful shove, can make the boulder rock. But no group can actually push hard enough to make the bouldter move permanently.
A quick water break gave me some energy and I continued. The beginning of the trail from Heundeulbawi to Ulsanbawi was beastly, and it only got worse. The last part was torturous. We'd climb a huge column of metal steps and turn a corner to find...more steps. Scramble up boulders to find...more steps! Moon cites over 800 steps in the last part alone, and I totally believe it.
At one point as I was walking up I looked up to see two white women coming down. One had a dog in her shoulder bag. Its ears were dyed blue. French people, I swear. I don't know if they made it up to the top, but it doesn't matter. At that point, still so far from the summit, if it had been me I would have been tempted to throw it off the mountain to rid myself of unnecessary weight. I jest...mostly. I just had a vision of Jack Black kicking Baxter off the bridge. Hahahaha
A nice trick is to go hand-over-hand on the rail, using your arm strength to save your legs a little work. I employed this frequently because I'm lazy, practical, and at the time I was dead-tired. For a while I was right behind a woman about the same size as I, and it was kind of funny; we actually worked in sync in stepping on the stones and moving our arms up the rail. No, it wasn't that funny. It was just interesting. No, it's wasn't even that interesting. It was just something that stuck out in my mind.
I'm not sure what was worse -- the steps (I probably stopped three times on one particularly brutal staircase) or the rocks. The path on the rocks was so narrow we frequently stopped because it could only fit one person and we had to wait for a column of people descending the mountain before we could continue. If walking on smooth, slanted rocks isn't hard enough, the person in front of you would suddenly stop while you're mid-step and you have to find new footing to avoid falling on him or her.
As we climbed, though, we developed a sort of camaraderie unusual in don't-talk-to-strangers Korea. We were all in it together, and nobody would turn back --in fact, in some spots, nobody could turn back if they wanted to because the path was too narrow.
The summit was amazing. I say this for most summits, but this one was more amazing than all the rest. It wasn't just the view, which was spectacular; it was the knowledge that you just took on a particularly difficult task and successfully completed it.
A Red Cross worker, young but weathered by the sun and wind, was kind enough to photograph people at the top. He must do it often, because he even positioned people to make for the best picture. He called it his 아라바잇, or part-time job, though he didn't charge. He must be bored, and I hope he's often bored, as it means that nobody met a catastrophe en route.
The way down was typical of mountain trails: much less taxing, but much more dangerous. Falling up can bark your shins, but falling down can break your neck, and maybe the necks of the people in front of you. So I employed the hand-over-hand method again.
I bought a bottle of water at Heundeulbawi and sat a minute to recoup. My legs were shaking. They were shaking on the way down from Diamond Cave, but I could make them stop within seconds. This time it took awhile, and they were prone to start up again immediately.
When I reached the creek approaching Sinheungsa, I stopped on a rock for some much-needed protein. I LOVE Korean snickers!
I had thought of heading to Allak-am (알락암), a small hermitage, and Gwon'geum-seong (권금성), a fortress, but it was nearing 5 and I didn't think I could take anymore climbing. It was time to go home.
When I reached the bus stop there was a long line. I wasn't too psyched about standing around, but I also didn't want to walk back to the entrance to hail a cab (at this point, yes, walking back to Seorak-dong was completely out of the question). Luckily, they're smart. Two bus numbers service Seoraksan, and instead of going the whole route, they designate each bus a stop on the route and pack it with people going there; then the bus returns for more people.
I texted 대용 to tell him I was getting on the bus, then grabbed the bus for Seorak-dong C, but apparently I had the wrong one. It stopped about a km past my 역원, so I had to backtrack a bit.
I grabbed my key at the front desk and hit my room for a desperately-needed shower. I was getting ready when I received a text from 대용: "Where are you?" I told him I was in my room and I was almost ready.
When I went down he greeted me with a can of Pocari Sweat; he had been waiting for me at the bus stop to give it to me. I felt slightly guilty. We headed up to the roof to hang out and he started telling me the meaning of Ulsanbawi. When the Geumgang Mountains were being created, Ulsanbawi wanted to be one of the required 12,000 peaks, so it traveled north from the southern city of Ulsan. It found that the requisite number of peaks had been met, so it ended its journey. Its sorrow, as well as the crying sound one hears as the wind blows past the rock, led to its name: Crying Rock Mountain. I knew the legend behind the rock (via Moon), but didn't know how the rock's name corresponded with the legend. I guess long ago somebody crazily decided to climb to the top for fun, heard the crying sound, and created a tale to explain it.
As he was speaking, the vegetables hit. If he noticed my sudden tenseness and 'oh crap!' (literally) look, he gave no indication. Eventually he finished the story and asked if I was hungry. I told him I had to pack a little (lame!) and I would return soon. I hurried upstairs but was dismayed to learn that I had waited too long; it had passed. My digestive tract is so temperamental!
We left around 7. When we walked out the door his mom called out to us to return early. I kind of wondered what she thought of me, whether she thought I was a loose American out to seduce her son, or a nice woman who's her son's friend. hahaha As we were driving the digestive tract exacted its revenge; the vegetables u-turned and hit again. I decided I could hold it. We were heading to Naksansa (낙산사) to see the temple grounds. It's located at the top of a small hill right above the beach.
대용 asked me what I wanted to eat, but I don't know any of the regional foods out here, and as far as regular Korean food is concerned, I'm good with anything, except donkatsu. He asked if I had tried 회덥밥, rice with raw seafood, smothered in sauce (in this case, red pepper sauce). Sounded good, so we began looking for restaurants.
We found one close to the beach that advertised the dish on the outside. When we went inside, though, it wasn't a menu item. 대용 asked if I wanted to go elsewhere, but I said it's ok to stay. I got some fish soup and he got 비빔밥.
As we wrapped up our meal, he told me that his grandma had always told him not to waste food. One swat would make him resume his meal when he stopped. I laughed. Sounds like my mom. He picked up his metal bowl and ate the last grains of rice. All I could do was grin; I still had 1/2 my bowl of rice and there was no way I was going to finish it.
He tried to pay, but I beat him to it. After all he had done, there was no way I was going to let him pay, especially after I left 1/2 my rice.
There's a batting cage across from the restaurant. He asked if I wanted to go. Now, I had been wanting to go for awhile; I had actually suggested it to Anna just on Friday and received a very noncommittal response. Yet keep in mind that I hadn't been to a batting cage since seventh grade. Dad had taken me, and though I can hit slow pitch, I had managed to connect with the ball twice, max, at a pathetic 45mph, both fouls.
We tried the slowest ones first. I don't know how fast they were, but they were still too fast for me. An improvement over last time, though; I think I hit five, and one was even fair! He was much better (he had played baseball in high school). One hilarious thing happened. The first time I cut, I flatulated (I'm serious, this is a tell-all blog). It just came out; I couldn't stop it. And it wasn't even an SBD, but a loud little popper. I don't know if he heard it, but I swung with clenched cheeks after that.
We decided to try again, a faster one. He went first and hit most of them, missing a few at the end.
I BEAT HIM. I got them all, and most were fair. I don't know how, but it happened! I surprised myself. He was jokingly disappointed with himself, but I kept insisting that 9 out of 10 times he'd be better. I think that's true. Maybe, though, I've experienced a miraculous improvement in hand-eye coordination. We decided on a rematch sometime in Seoul.
From there we headed up the small hill to Naksansa. He pointed out a hotel where seawater is pumped into the sauna. I'll have to try that sometime.
Naksansa closes at 8. It was 9:15. Oh well. We headed up to a small pavilion at the top of a nearby hill, then went to the base to Naksansa Beach.
It was windy and both of us had left our jackets in the car. The breeze was cold and flying sand cut into our skin, and I had a great time. Sokcho beaches are happening places at night. People ride four-wheelers up and down the beach, and the air is filled with the noise and smoke of fireworks, as well as the joyful yells of the kids setting them off.
We went to get some fireworks and I tried to pay again. The vendor had his hand on my 만원, but said, 'Korea tradition' and took 대용's 5K원. I don't know if it was 'Korea tradition,' or if he just didn't want to make change. But I was allowed to buy some nice hot cans of coffee.
Coffee and fireworks in hand, we headed back to the sand. The beach is lit, so we ended up close to the water where it's darker. We lit the 25-pack and were disappointed when, five seconds later, it was over. The sparklers were much more fun.
He told me that when he was little, he and his friends would somehow attach a rope to a can, somehow light the can on fire (I think they poked holes in the can and had a fire inside), then run down the beach, swinging the can around in circles. I don't really get the method, but I understood the result: he would go home, go to bed, and wake up with wet sheets and angry parents. Hahahaha
He said that his parents always called him 개구쟁이: rascal. He would ask his dad for money for ice cream and use to buy matches, which were the same price. Then he and his friends would play the burning can game. One time his dad caught him buying matches with the ice cream money. Ha!
As we were leaving the beach he asked me if I like dolls, pointing to the back of the car. I turned around. The rear window was lined with stuffed animals. Awkward. I didn't know what to say. He offered to get me one at a 보바 machine (I kept thinking 바보 machines like Jonathan calls them). I tried to convince him that I didn't need one, but he insisted. He didn't get any. He blamed the weakness of the claw, but I assured him that it was ok.
When we got back to Seorakdong we hit up a hof for chicken and beer. By this time my gut was screaming for relief; though I had been gassing at opportune moments throughout the evening, it wasn't enough. A beer only made it worse. Now I had a full bladder AND a full butt!
We hit the restrooms outside the hof. My purse was too small to fit toilet paper and none of the stalls had any. Wonderful. It's crunch time!
The walk back to the 역원 was physically less-taxing than Ulsanbawi, but equally as torturous. Once we arrived we said our very quick good-byes and I ran upstairs to my room.
I sincerely hope this is the only defecation-related blog I ever post. It's a little tasteless, but, to me, the situation itself is really funny.
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