Cackling on the Wailing Sky Mountain

I catch my lower lip forming a pout as the woman in the information centre hands us a map, highlighting the few hiking trails that hadn't been closed due to bad wintry weather. Of these, only one could be done in a single day.

Dejected, I drag my feet out the door into the gale-force winds that had moments before blown us off our feet as we bounded off the bus, giddy with excitement. The wind whips my hair about so violently that no hair tie can hold it. Forking out some Won for a beanie to secure my tresses, I crane my neck upwards towards the jagged, snow-capped precipices, and am speechless.

The Seoraksan Mountains slice through the mist, their icy tops gleaming in the sun; frozen waterfalls sparkle as if dripping with diamonds. The riggings of the cable car swing precariously and I resign myself to the fact that, despite our plans, our final day in Sokcho would not be spent upon the Gwongeumseong Summit. After casting a final, yearning look back at the snowy bluffs, we begin our ascent up the seemingly far less mesmerizing Ulsanbawi.

Having pined over autumnal images of the national park cloaked in crimson, I am surrounded instead by bare creeks and unadorned trees. An hour in, the 900 stairs become ladder-like, and I have to use both arms to hoist myself up each rung. Slippery patches of ice amass and I’m suddenly thankful to be climbing in the off-season, for had the autumn crowds been charging up and down this trail, let’s just say it’s an awfully long way to fall.

Further up, a bizarre sound of cackling pierces the wind. A group of middle-aged Korean women, perched on a boulder on the edge of a cliff, are clad in fluro, sipping from thermoses and gossiping. It almost appears to be your average picnic, but against a backdrop of brilliant blue and stark white valleys, punctuated by tiny black trees that cover the rocky slopes like little hairs.

It is so surreal that I am suddenly transfixed by the beauty of my surroundings. When at last at the summit, the granite peaks of Ulsanbawi transform and resemble Godzilla hibernating beneath a thick blanket of snow, sleeping soundly as tiny humans scale her bony spine. I can once again see Gwongeumseong in the distance, and an unexpected smile creeps across my face—what was I disappointed about? How could any view be more incredible than this?

Buffeted by wind at the peak, my boyfriend sheepishly grins at me. He is petrified of heights, and we both know we conquered something within ourselves today.