04
Not many hours later, I woke up to a different sort of sound. Tssssssss. Water sizzled on a hot element. A pounding headache reverberated in my head. Disoriented, I stumbled out of the bedroom and into the main living area. There Sooncheon was, hovering in the kitchen, rushing from station to station as he prepared a breakfast; eggs and beef on the stove, makgeolli on the kettle, and a medley of peeled fruit in a bowl in the sink. I collapsed at the small table outside of the kitchen into a pillow formed by my hand, before being interrupted shortly thereafter.
“Drink. This will give you energy.”
Sooncheon was handing me another cup of makgeolli.
All this has done is give me anxiety, I told myself, thinking better than to create an uncomfortable situation. I took the steaming cup of tea and forced a sip. Chalky.
“We have a big day ahead,” Sooncheon cautioned.
“Seolaksan, world’s best mountain. Then I’ll take you for Korean BBQ. Authentic South Korea. After that, the DMZ.”
I nodded approvingly.
The trip to Seolaksan was lengthy. In total it took about an hour and a half to get to the base. I tried sleeping on the way but once we got to the expressway the frequent stop and starts and bumps made it too unbridled to sleep. An hour and a half later we pulled into a small, gravel parking space with a wooden signboard at one end, marking the start of the trail. It was particularly balmy out, and because South Korea is small and coastal, considerably humid.
We began our trek upwards. The Seolaksan trail started very gradual before receding into occasional brief stints of steep uphill. Despite starting early, several hikers passed us on their way down the mountain. Their faces illuminated as they passed by us, forming a “V” with two fingers, and smiling gleefully. “Anyoung Haseyo!” they would say as they passed. Sooncheon made it a point to stop at the end of every sudden uphill as a small reward, though I knew this was just a cover for him to catch his breath when he would fall onto a rocky seat or tree wall. We had been hiking for nearly two hours by the time we passed the tree line.
“We’ll get to the top soon,” Sooncheon encouraged on a rest period, before passing me a canteen of water.
I took in the view of the lush greenery surrounding Seolaksan.
“Sounds good, no rush.”
Green, rocky edges shone against the light of day, forming shadows in the valleys between peaks. The scene was otherworldly to me, not like the Canadian Rockies at all, or even the Himalayas. This was pristine, and, despite being silent and unmoving, oddly inviting. I reached instinctively into my pocket to take a photo of the horizon before remembering it had been smashed the day prior. I sighed disappointedly for a second before resigning myself by settling into a tree trunk and looking out at the view. The surrounding mountains seemed closer in a way, their features more discernible, and colours more vibrant. The trees in the valley projected out like paint strokes on a canvas, the mosaic of Seoul painted by my gaze. Taken individually, they appeared small and insignificant, but as part of the whole, magnificent and divine, transcendental. It seemed more authentic to the experience, being unplugged in this way, like I was more connected to the mountains than before, as if the phone cemented a divide between us.
Another hour later, we made our final ascent and summited Seolaksan. The wind had picked up, unshielded from the passing of the tress, and the humidity had subsided as we elevated, making the effects refreshingly delightful.
I practice meditation whenever I summit mountain peaks and Seolaksan was no different. I found a smooth rock to sit upon at the peak, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and began to empty my mind. Some time later, I opened them a crack and looked out at Seoul, a small speck in the distance piercing the azure sky. It was the same sky I looked upon yesterday when the guard at Gyeongbokgoong knocked me down. I reflected upon the experience while looking out at South Korea from the top of the tiny nation. The drama of the incident slowly began to fade as I looked over peaks and valleys, like conquering Seolaksan had freed me from the episode. And in its place was a feeling of… power. Like I had shifted an immovable stone from the grips of the earth. Like observing the magnificence of the mountains in an unrestrained sort of way had unlocked a hidden passageway in the core of my being.
“Want to go now?” Sooncheon broke my concentration.
I brought myself to my feet and shook my head into focus.
“Sure.”