Hiking Pics

Here are a few pictures from our Bukhansan hike (thanks, Kirsten!). These first two can be viewed together as a sort of panorama shot; we hiked up to one of the jagged peaks seen over my right shoulder (at this point, about an hour into the hike, Kirsten still didn't know that's where we were headed). From there we came down past the temple that's visible over Kirsten's left shoulder.











Here's part of the climb up; note the well-equipped Korean hiker that preceded us.



View from the top.



Steep descent.

Hiking in Korea

Shorts, T-shirt, tennis shoes - check. Apple, Snickers, cashews, water bottle, backpack to carry it all in - check. Sounds like you're ready for a hike, right? Not in Korea.

Here you can easily spot people out for a day of hiking; they wear visors and Gortex vests and hiking boots, preferably in matching colors, and carry backpacks loaded with collapsible walking sticks, water bottles, folding picnic mats, camping mugs, and in many cases a bottle of soju to celebrate with at the pinnacle of a hike.

"Hiking" here actually means "mountain climbing" - not scaling icy peaks with pick axes and crampons, but often using ropes and cables to pull yourself up to a scenic mountain top. I guess I should have explained that a bit more thoroughly when I asked Kirsten if she wanted to go hiking, since she assumed I meant something like "walk in the woods." I think she was also deceived by my Korea Lonely Planet's description of the hike we decided to do in a national park just north of Seoul: "moderate fitness is required - but hey, if Korean grandmothers can do it, so can you!" There should be a footnote there explaining that a lot of Korean grandmothers hike regularly and are probably in better shape than the average American 30-year-old.

The hike was beautiful and rewarding, and despite our perceived lack of preparation (I overheard lots of comments from Korean hikers on the trail along the lines of "Look at at those foreigners! They're wearing tennis shoes!"), we survived it. Afterward she was glad we'd done it, but I think along the way Kirsten's thoughts were going something like this: Korean Grandmothers? Really, Korean Grandmothers??? KOREAN GRANDMOTHERS MY #*$&!!!

On the subway/bus ride home we were kind of wishing we had all the hiking gear. That way our fellow passengers would have known the reason for our sweaty, unkempt, and possibly smelly state; as it was they probably thought we were just two dirty Americans out and about in the city. Kirsten suggested that I talk to her loudly in Korean about the strenuous hike we'd just done; I didn't, but at least the two of us had the inward satisfaction of knowing how we'd worked up that sweat!