Hiking in Korea - the Taoist answer to life, the universe and everything

One subject of traditional Chinese religious paintings is The Vinegar Tasters in which 3 men, representing Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism together sample the taste of vinegar - a subtle allegory for life, no less.  The Confucian's face shows that he finds the taste unacceptably sour, the Buddhist's that he finds the taste disappointingly bitter while only the Taoist finds the taste agreeable.  

A modern version of the traditional Chinese illustration

The reactions of the Tasters illustrates the differences between the central tenets of Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism.  Confucians find modern life sour; that is; spoiled, and sadly lacking compared with the higher standards of ancient times, heaven and the universe. They favour strict rules and veneration of ancestors to ensure that modern life exactly follows traditional values. By comparison Buddhists find modern life is full of distracting desires and illusions, the attempted attainment of which leads only to bitter disappointment and suffering. The solution is not to be seduced by the earthly 'world of dust' but to find peace in Nirvana - a state of No Wind. Meanwhile Taoists accept modern life as it is, enjoy it as much as possible and make what they can from it.  In short; when God gives you lemons, you should make lemonade.  

In Korea steep, wooded mountains cover as much as 70% of the country. Under these conditions, South Korea's distinctly Taoist response is to establish national parks all over the country, become a nation of mountain hikers and to get out there as often as possible.  

South Korea: more National Parks than you can shake a stick at.
Each mountain continuously bristles with the world's most fiercely accomplished hikers.

Foreigners are always impressed with the the serious dedication that Koreans commit to everything.  As with cycling, the nation's rival opiate, hiking commands only the very best, professional quality, purpose made equipment. A quick glimpse around any mountain top will quickly sort the wheat from the chaff.

Baegundae Peak (a modest 836m) overlooking north Seoul from Bukhansan National Park

Koreans are easily identified in this season's nature-with-neon themed body-glove attire which is simultaneously waterproof, wind proof, perspiration proof, self deodourising, erogenously stimulating and thermally self-regulating in weather conditions ranging from a broiling Venusian summer to an exceptional storm on Jupiter.  Note the full length sleeves (UV protection), full length length pants (protection from insects and thorns), perspiration-absorbent neck-scarfs, wide brimmed hats, shock-absorbing hiking poles, Everest-tested hiking boots with spare alpaca-fleece socks, NASA standard thermos flasks able to keep your beverage hot in the vacuum of space for 24 hours, 2kW LED flashlights to signal passing ships, airliners or satellites, intercontinental short-wave radios, geo-synchronous distress flares, bottled oxygen, all-weather tactile precision gloves, folding chairs, hammocks, wild boar repellent, thermally insulated ground mats, 127 function Swiss Army knife, tibia-fibia resetting/splinting kit, portable defibrillator, back-up power packs, two week's rations of gourmet fish-roe kimbap with tins of spam and bottles of makoli for back-up. Meanwhile foreigners are readily identifiable by their incongruous combinations of sandals, t-shirts, shorts, mirrored shades, unused tampon and whatever else they took to the pool yesterday.

Baegundae Peak: clothing aside, foreigners may also be identified by their belief that in an emergency they can spontaneously develop the power of wingless flight, therefore allowing them to perch on any precipice with impunity

For those hiking anywhere near the border with the Super Supreme Leader's People's Democratic Empire of New Nuclear North Korea, additional precautionary equipment includes Samsung-patented high visibility camouflage fatigues.  These incorporate bright luminous flecks woven into the standard military camouflage pattern to facilitate the rapid location and extraction of stray hikers from the DMZ by South Korean special forces while ensuring that the North Korean border patrols remain oblivious about their errant trekking.

Of course, whatever level of preparation you feel happy with, always remember that nothing is more important than timing. Nobody should be under the illusion that hiking in Korea is a good idea just because they feel like it. The chances are that if you feel like it, then virtually half the population may also be feeling like it. This is fine if you want the Costco-checkout-on-a-mountain-top experience, but otherwise think carefully about the right time to go.

The entrance to Chilgabsan Provincial Park
"I told you we should have gone to Costco"

Mother Nature overwhelmed - ultimately underwhelming

Of course today's gravitationally challenged sofa huggers and itinerant screenagers who are surgically connected to their keyboards may think that they are not up to climbing a mountain. Even if they can afford 3 month's rent for the correct equipment, perhaps they are not fit enough, they may not have the endurance or they can't find equally ruminant companions to trek with.  If this is you, then you can rest assured that no matter which trek you choose, climbing the actual mountain will be the easy part.  Invariably self-pity and shame will be the heaviest burdens which you will carry on the long and winding road to the summit.  

As you set out with a light heart and a spring in your step, you will feel buoyed by the large number of brightly coloured octogenarians and nonagenarians walking alongside. You give each of them a friendly nod, saying "Hi" and wishing them a great day on the mountain.  The camaraderie is welcome and comforting; after all, how hard can the climb be if these diminutive whisps can do it ? They weigh a little over 40kg, stand barely 150cm tall and the light can even be seen clear through their limbs when the sun is behind them. You barely notice how these sprites disappear around the curve ahead of you and then vanish entirely from view on the next stretch of the path.  

It is only after you complete the first third of the trek that you start to realise just how many of these old-timers have actually flitted past you already.  During the second third of the trek, you begin to hear your heart pounding in your ears and the blood slooshing through your carteroid artery; somewhere in your brain, something wants to pop.  Your legs feel like you have just returned to earth after 6 months in orbit.  Sweat trickles from your shoulder blades to the inside of your knees without stopping at your waistband.  Each breath feels like a gasp fought for on the scalding surface of Venus. You then wonder if you're hallucinating when the first group of these oldies reappear like phantoms in front of you, this time heading back down the mountain ! Yes, it's true they've done the peak and started heading down again while you're still only 2/3 of the way up.  Miraculously they haven't broken a sweat and none of them are even breathing heavy.  They recognise you too as you exchange pleasantries again before they give it to you right between the eyes; a look of condescending pity which says simply; "Hopeless Wretch".  It's an all-humbling moment when you realise that not only are you mortal, but you have been comprehensively routed, defeated and humiliated, kindly and politely by an opponent you were not even aware of.