Trekking Up and Tracking Down the North Gate

At 5:30 AM when my alarm clock went off, reminding me of my standing appointment with Busan's early-morning Jagalchi Fish Market, I rolled over and played dead. I can't remember the last time my body was actually up and at it at 5:30 AM and today just didn't seem the day to set any new precedents. It took about 0.2 seconds for me to fall back into a delicious sleep, and I somehow was so deeply unconscious that I never even heard Marina get ready or leave the apartment for her day at work.

My short visit last night to Gwangali beach had been so entertaining that I figured it was worth a second look. From my observations, the sand had less of a rough sandpaper quality than Haeundae, and I was keeping my fingers crossed, at least, that it being a Monday, a lot of the beachgoing population would fall off. It didn't matter that the sky was thick with a milky haze, so much so that not a sliver of sun was leaking through. Just to sit on a beach, undisturbed, and listen to the sound of the waves break against the shore sounded as close to perfect as a beach could get in Korea. Besides, my skin had turned distastefully pale since coming to Seosan 7 weeks before, and the though the skies above were clouded over, I was still convinced that I wasn't beyond reach of a little UV.

It turns out my plan was a wise one.  Within 20 minutes of parking myself on the sand, the clouds lifted and hot, hot sun filtered down through deep blue sky. It was amazing the immediate difference the sun made in the temperature and heaviness of the air surrounding me. And though (thanks to Fido) I wouldn't be cooling off from the sun in the salty water just a few meters away, I at least had the luxury of a makeshift "bathhouse" just a stone's throw away, where I could rinse away stray sand with a cool stream of shower water at the push of a button. It was perfect. And with no threatening ajummas or parades of parasols or interrupting intercoms, Gwanali -- at least for today -- seemed comparatively fabulous.

After a leisurely sunbath, I was ready to stretch my legs a bit, and managed to find a Tourist Information desk quite nearby where I hoped to get some information about hiking around Busan's old fortress walls. From Geumjang Park, in northern Busan, it is possible to hike to Beomeosa temple, along trails that lead towards ancient gates and crumbling walls. And with the disappointment of finding myself without camera batteries on my visit to Beomeosa two days ago, it seemed fitting to return. 

The young girl behind the counter met my English "Hello!" with one of her own, and I was relieved that she seemed a bit eager to speak to me in a language that I actually understood. I asked her my questions, and she started in with a reply in a beautiful British accent that seemed so oddly out of place coming out of a Korean mouth. Of course, she had either been taught by British teachers, or had spent some time studing the language in England itself. It was refreshing, and amusing, and she was so downright nice (although as it turned out, not very knowledgeable) that I couldn't help but leave with a smile.

An hour and a half later, I was again walking the quiet temple grounds at Beomeosa, amusing myself with the vertigo-inducing upward views into the bamboo forests and lush, verdant downward views overlooking the temple and the green hilly mountains beyond. With a little luck, I managed to find the entrance to what turned out to be an astonishingly steep hike up a forest of gargantuan boulders and rocks. Either side of the trail was tied off with bungee cables, marking clearly for would-be hikers the path leading out of Beomeosa. Despite the thick, humid heat, I kept charging ahead, hoisting myself up the trail while perspiration saturated my skin and clothing and my lungs burned a bit from my breathlessness.

Finally, I reached the North Gate where I took the stone steps leading to its lookout post and caught the view of a low-lying stone wall running up and over the green hills to the east and the west. These were fortress walls built centuries upon centuries ago, now nestled among shrubs and flowering trees, holding the attention of curious hikers for a few minutes or more before being left to stand in their stoic isolation.  After exploring the area, I continued on straight ahead down the trail, not realizing until too late that the trail itself must have turned along the fortress walls. I kept walking for some time, passing quaint mountain huts and a family of charcoal-black goats who eyed me with apprehension.

A few minutes later, I heard a gentle honk and turned to see some slightly famililar faces smiling out at me from the backseat of a shiny black car. A few Koreans I had crossed paths with at the gate were on their way out of the mountain, and were offering to give me a lift. Sticky with sweat, I folded at the thought of sitting in a cushy air-conditioned car, and hopped into the front seat. We drove for 15 minutes before reaching the exit of the park, and with each minute that ticked by, I was increasily grateful to these strangers for saving me from what would have been a very long, and not remotely scenic, hike.

When they finally dropped me off, I managed to find my bearings enough to realize that I was close to Geumgang Park, which was my original plan anyway. From here, I could take a cable car up the mountain for impressive views of bustling Busan, and that was precisely what I set out to do. Little did I know that within the hour, I would be making friends with a lively if somewhat odd mix of Koreans would would invite me into their circle, and that I would end up on a crazy escapade lasting until the wee hours of morning... But that's another story...