Springtime Island Hopping - Part I

In South Korea, Buddha’s birthday, in late May, is a time for visiting temples, bowing to golden statues and eating the free bi bim bap – rice topped with fresh veggies and red chili pepper paste – the monks dole out. Really, for the largely unfervent population, it’s a nice three-day weekend in the spring. And despite the forecast for spring storms, Charles took advantage of our time off to host an island-hopping adventure: three islands in three days.

So, I found myself boarding a bus at 3 a.m. – usually the time of night that’s closer to bedtime than up-and-at-‘em time. Trying to get any shuteye would have been a waste of time, so I made do with a nap on the two-hour bus ride from Busan to the port town of Tongyong, where we boarded a board for So-maemul-do, or Small Maemul Island.

Here, I discovered Korean ferries are a little different from the ones we’re accustomed to. Instead of seats or benches, the cabin was filled with traditional heated ondol flooring, and passengers left their shoes in the center aisle before sitting or lying down on the delightfully warm floor.

Charles, hiker extraordinaire, had his drill sergeant face on when we disembarked.

“Leave your bags here. Start hiking. Go fast,” he barked, as most of our group of about 25 rubbed the sleep out of our eyes and stared dumbly at him.

“It’s 7:30 in the morning,” we grumbled. “Why is he making such a fuss?”

Turns out our hike of the say was across the island to a lighthouse accessible only during low tide. On the bright, glorious late spring day, we trooped into the hills of the small island, breaking into smaller groups along the way.

To date, So-maemul-do is the most beautiful place I’ve visited in Korea. The gentle hills were bursting with plant life, flowers and shrubs arching for the sun, shadowed periodically by evergreen trees. Dramatic and graceful rock formations dotted the coast, and the aquamarine sea glistened. There was no trace of the infamous Korean haze. The air was pure, and we all felt a sense of accomplishment to be hiking at 8 a.m., instead of stumbling home from the bars.

Emerging from the hills, we descended onto a beach of large, sun-bleached stones, crossing over to the lighthouse where we resting in its obliging shade. A half hour later, when we started back, half the beach had already disappeared. I guess Charles knew what he was talking about.

We sunned ourselves on the boulders until it was time to get back on the ferry at 12:30 p.m. I’d gotten more done that morning than I usually get done all week.