Bulamsan

I have often heard people say that bravery isn't about not being afraid, that bravery is being afraid of something and doing it anyway. I would like to propose a slightly modified definition. Bravery is doing something that any rational person would be afraid to do.

There are two paths towards bravery then. There is of course being rational, being afraid, and yet still doing. The other option, of course, is to be irrational and stupid, and thus not afraid. The latter, I think, is the kind of bravery that many people desire. Because being afraid doesn't feel good. Being truly scared for ones safety is a terribly uncomfortable feeling, and when we are unfortunate enough to have that feeling, we find ourselves wishing we could feel differently. And so there's a sense of envy for the irrational people who just don't seem to be emotionally affected by being in danger. Of course, having irrational bravery shouldn't be a particular source of pride, because your not overcoming anything, you are not actually conquering fear. Irrational bravery is also more likely to get you killed.

These are the thoughts that were going through my head as I sat atop the peak of Bulamsam Mountain yesterday afternoon, eating a peach flavored popsicle, happier to be alive than I ever have been previously.

For those of you not familiar with meetup.com, it is a website where you can find groups doing interesting things in your area. Yoga, hiking, dancing, whatever you interests are. It's a great resource for getting out and doing shit. Its especially useful if you're new to a foreign city where you know absolutely no one. I joined a hiking group that goes hiking every Saturday in or around Seoul. I like hiking, I like nature, I like physical activity, so it seemed a natural choice. They do a range of hikes, from easy nature walks, to all out rock climbing with ropes and harnesses. The description for this hike was that it was moderately difficult, and would include some bouldering. Bouldering is typically where you are in fact climbing strait up rock faces, but for very short distances, and so no equipment is necessary. I like bouldering. I went bouldering with Britney and Turtle back in Ohio several times.

The meeting location for the hike was a subway station about an hour away. I get there and find everybody and introduce myself, because this is the first hike I've done with them. Everyone is friendly and interesting. It is a mix of expats and Koreans. There are several older Korean men that seem to more or less be the group leaders. It was also the first time I've met any expats who were neither English teachers nor soldiers. There were several English teachers, but there was one university level German teacher, from Germany, and one Indian software developer.

And so we set off for the mountain. The park is about a 15 minute walk from the subway station. It is a beautiful park, and I am happy to be surrounded by nature for the first time since I've been here. We start hiking and we are walking along paths, well marked at first, and then slowly less walked. As we turn off the main paths, we are walking more through the woods. It gets steeper, and slightly more difficult. I'm building up a good sweat and enjoying myself immensely. I like hikes that involve a lot of climbing over small and medium sized rocks, and that's what is mostly happening so far.

We come out of the trees, and reach a massive sloped rock face. It is the side of the mountain. It is enormous, and impressive. Nothing growing on it, just smooth rock sloping up for hundreds of feet. This mountain was formed by a massive lava flow some several thousands of years ago. Large sections of it are just smooth, sloping, enormous, dome shaped slags. I stop to admire it as the group walks by, and then I go to join them.

Just around the corner everyone is sitting down and taking out their water bottles. Break time. I sit, and hydrate, and revel in how much I am enjoying my morning. We sit for about 15 minutes and then everyone stands up. I'm excited to get going, and I'm wondering where the path leads next.

And then something funny happens. One of the old Korean man walks back the way we came. We start fallowing him. He walks back to where the giant sloping rock face is, turns, and starts walking up it.

Allow me to take a moment to describe in more detail exactly what is happening with this rock face. When I say sloping rock face, I don't mean that it's like a steep ramp, a steady walk up a hill. The side of this mountain is nearing a 60 degree angle. Think about that. A 45 degree angle, which would be considered fairly steep, is pretty easy to imagine. A 60 degree angle is half way between that, and a vertical wall. Mathematically it is a slope of 3 vertical units for every one horizontal unit. It's really fucking steep. I'm guessing that this wasn't quite 60, maybe more around 55, but still. Steep. And as I said before, entirely smooth. Theres nothing to grab onto, nothing to hold onto, just flat rock surface for hundreds of feet. And so when the first guy just started walking up it, I had a definite moment of, wait, what? THAT'S where were going?!?

And it was. And let me tell you, it was terrifying. 100 feet is about a third of a football field. Which doesn't seem like that far when your talking about walking 100 feet, or something being 100 feet away. 100 feet suddenly takes on a whole new meaning when it's 100 feet up, when, say, you walk 100 feet up a 60 fucking degree angle, and you turn around and look 100 feet down. Suddenly, 100 feet is a very very long distance. Because again, there was nothing to hold onto. The only thing keeping you on the wall of this mountain is the friction on your shoes. And if that gives, if you slip, if you start sliding, that can get out of control real fast, and there's nothing to slow you down except the eventual flat ground.

And the image I had in my head of me tumbling wildly down the side of this mountain was all too vivid after 100 feet. And I looked up ahead to where the leader had stopped, and I wasn't even half way there. However, soon he started playing a small ocarina-type instrument. I imagine he was playing some sort of Korean folk music. It had that sort of sound to it. He played it very well, and it was beautiful. The sweet melody hung around the mountain like a gentle fog, chasing away my fears and giving me the strength to continue. And, miraculously, I made it to the safety of the flat location, where we rested again, and drank more water. I looked back over what I had done, how far I had come. The view was spectacular. I could see so much of the city. And I was proud of myself for having accomplished it. I was ready for the rest of the hike, now certain that the most difficult part must be over.

But that was just the beginning. I didn't know it at the time, but we were probably only about 15 percent up the mountain. The rest of the hike would be mostly the same as that. Walking up impossibly steep angles for hundreds of feet at a time with nothing to hold onto. Well, that's not entirely true. Occasionally for the more difficult spots, one of the leaders would drop a rope, run up to a fairly stable spot, and then brace themselves. You weren't supposed to use the rope to pull yourself up, as it was just a person holding onto the other end. But it was there as a safety net in case you started to slip, and was psychologically very helpful. On two separate occasions, for the steepest and most difficult slopes (I'm talking maybe 75 degrees) one of the leaders found a place in the rock to actually anchor the rope with rock climbing equipment, and you did use the rope to support the majority of your weight as you pulled yourself up.

On one occasion we walked up a giant slope, around a giant rock at the top, and then down the other side, in order to walk around another cliff, and then back up another insane slope. Walking down one of those slopes was one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring moments of the day. Again, still terrifying. The way to do it is to actually walk facing forwards, body strait, but bent pretty significantly at the knees, and to just slowly put one foot in front of the other. And here your are, walking on the side of a mountain, with absolutely nothing around you, except the entire city right in front of you. It's such an incredible feeling. You feel so large. The city is so small. There's nothing but air around you. Trees far below. Not attached to anything. It's incredible. But still terrifying.

Walking up these slopes is massively counter intuitive. Instinct when climbing is to keep your body low to the ground, lowering your center of gravity, and giving you more control. For walking up a steep slope however, you actually want to stand up as much as possible. The reason is that, again, the only thing keeping you on the side of the rock is the friction of your shoes. The higher you stand, the more directly over your shoes, the more friction. To lower yourself, to try and climb up the slope using your hands and knees, actually reduces the amount of friction on your shoes, makes it more likely to slip. So you want to stand up. But this is completely counterintuitive and feels really scary to do.

Every time the leader would stop for an extended period of time, he would play his flute. Every melody, every sound, was beautiful. And the atmosphere it created was no less than majestic. It was almost otherworldly. To be in such an intense situation, to be so scared, literally scared for you life, and then to hear this calming peaceful melody, out in the middle of no where, away from civilization on the side of a mountain, is just indescribable. It was heavenly. It was angelic. It was miraculous. Please understand, I use these words with very intense meaning not lightly. There is no word too dramatic to describe the feelings that sound elicited.

Also, I have to add, the Korean men on this trip really amazed and astounded me. All the expats are terrified, and struggling, and in awe of what we are actually doing on this hike. Meanwhile, the Koreans are just casually walking around the side of this mountain like ants on a wall, as if they are simply going for their morning stroll. Koreans are hard-core man.

Finally, after a particularly difficult stretch that involved the need for anchored rope in spots, that several people got stuck on for a while, and that seemed to push the limits of what everyone (expats at least) was capable of, we came to a nice shady flat spot, and stopped for lunch. I had some pastry and some beef jerky in my back pack. Other people had fruit, vegetables, various Korean things, and everybody shared. We were almost at the top, there was only one more slope to go. One expat joked, "Where we sit and wait for the helicopter to get us, right?" I replied that I though we were taking the elevator back down. Someone else laughed at how amazing it would be if there was an ice cream stand at the top. I said that if there was an ice cream stand at the top, I would shit myself.

After lunch we got up, and hiked a short distance to the final slope. My feet and my calves are killing me. I don't have much strength left that I can force out of the lower half of my body. And when we arrive at the last slope, my jaw drops. It's not as long as many of the others, but it's long enough so that you still don't want to slip and tumble down it. But it's the steepest we've done so far without an anchored rope, and the Koreans don't seem to intend to lay one. They start up it, and what choice do I have? This is one of those trips from which, after a very early point, there was simply no turning back. The only way was forward, and here again I was struck by this harsh reality. I didn't want to do it. I was scared, and tired, and sore. And every ounce of me was against climbing this insanely steep slope. But what choice did I have?

It was completely smooth, probably about 65 degree, maybe even 70 degrees for a few short stretches. I make it about 85 percent of the way up, and then I get stuck. I can't go any farther, I simply freeze. It's too steep, my shoes don't have enough grip, and I don't feasibly see a way I can go. The Koreans encourage me. I take a step, and other step, and then I start to slip. Suddenly my shoes lose their grip and I start sliding backwards. I freak out. I scream. My mind is racing with images of chaotic tumbling down the side of a mountain. I start to panic. Real panic. My heart starts beating so fast that it hurts. I start breathing quickly. I'm completely not calm. I feel dizzy. I try desperately to dig my feet in, to find stable footing, but I'm still sliding backwards. In my panic I forget about the mechanics of slope climbing, and I lower my center of gravity, which reduces friction, and I start sliding even more.

This all happened in the time span of about 5 seconds. Luckily, the Koreans had their shit together. One of the more experienced climbers wasn't far behind me. She climbed up behind me, and braced the back of my shoe with her hand, stopping my descent. I breathed deep. A slowed my heart. I regained my footing. I took another step, and immediately felt her hand behind my shoe again. Another step, and again her hand was there. And in this manner I slowly walked up the last 20 feet to the summit of the mountain.

Well, more or less. There was a short walk through the woods, and one very short section of traditional bouldering, which I loved. In terms of climbing, I'm definitely most comfortable when I have hand holds. I feel that's probably a fairly natural thing.

We get to the summit, and I see a helipad. This makes me laugh. And then, about 20 feet away from that, a man selling ice-cream. I did not, in fact, shit myself. I did, however, buy ice-cream. You may wonder how he got it up there. He took the stairs. There was an easy trail on the other side. We just took the terrifying death defying way for shits a giggles I suppose.

So I sat at the top of this mountain, eating my popsicle, and I did a good deal of thinking. I thought about the nature of bravery. I knew I had been brave, in the rational I'm still scared sort of way. But that kind of bravery isn't emotionally satisfying, it is emotionally taxing. It's an incredibly difficult thing to fight true, honest to god terror. And it feels good to succeed. Bt it doesn't feel so good to be that scared and to have fight against instinct.

I thought about being alive, and about the fact that I had truly just survived something. That felt very good. And it also felt good to think of in terms of accomplishment. To think, "I climbed a fucking mountain today, a real mountain, and I fucking climbed it!"

And it occurred to me several times during the climb that the hike was somewhat analogous to my journey here in Korea. Getting here was just the start of the adventure. It is both difficult and scary. I will do do things I never thought I would do, and accomplish things I never thought I could accomplish. But it will also be unimaginably rewarding. There will be moments of strife and of pain, but there will be moments of rest and of peace. And just when I think I can't go any further, there will be an old Korean man playing the flute.

Well, ok, maybe not that last part. But certainly the hike was analogous, not just to my journey in Korea, but to any difficult undertaking in life. Even, perhaps, to life itself. And let me say, that some of the most spectacular views I've ever had in my entire life were during this trip. And was most cleanly worth it.

We took the stairs back down. It was a nice pleasant trail. Very simple. Very calm. Very relaxing. A nice pleasant walk through the woods. Afterwards we went to a little Korean restaurant and had lunch. And then I went home.

It was a wonderful morning/afternoon, and I made some new friends. I have a profound and intense affection especially for the Koreans who were so wonderful, patient, and helpful. I'm looking very much forward to hiking with them again in the future. Though I can't say I want to do that particular hike again. For the record, I do have pictures to share. I will post them soon. I have to figure out how to get them from my lap tap (has no Internet) to my iPad (has Internet). And then I have to figure out the best way to share them. I'm not sure how pictures work on this site. I may end up just making an album on Facebook. In any case, I will let you guys know.

Until next time.
-Mongoose