In the hills just outside Busan lies Geumjong Fortress, not, in fact, a fortress but a long wall built as a fortification against Japanese invaders in the 17th century. There are four gates, and hiking between them is one way to see the Korean landscape, Busan from above, and something of local history.
I arrived at nearby Beomeosa Temple, an expansive and impressive collection of temples built over hundreds of years and grouped together on a single stretch of hillside. To walk the alleyways between them is to step into a postcard of the past, as butterflies land on the dusty paths between low-tiled walls whilst the sound of monks chanting drifts in the air.
Leaving Beomeosa, I embarked on a sweaty uphill climb on steps formed by large rocks leading to the North Gate of the fortress. From here, the trail continues to the East Gate, through wooded sections and over hills that offer look-out points over the countryside beyond and back towards Busan. As the path rose above the level of the trees, the noise from the cicadas changed as they stopped clacking in the branches and instead flew around my head in their hundreds.
It was Tuesday morning and for long spells I was alone on the trail. At an old watchtower, a man and his son passed in the opposite direction. The man sang a folk song as they took a break by the watchtower.
I reached the South Gate by mid-afternoon and turned off the path towards the village of Nammun (literally, "South Gate Village"), where there is nothing but a few restaurants and tennis courts but apparently hardly any people. I went downhill through damp forest and came out by a sealed road where families sat relaxing by a stream. I turned on to the road for the steep climb towards Seokbulsa Temple.
It started to rain. I continued uphill for 15 minutes or so before stopping to buy a pineapple Fanta from a strategically-placed vending machine. After a couple more switchbacks, I reached the temple. Ten-metre high Buddhas are carved into the stone of the cliff face, huge rocks that form an opening that allows you to walk in and be surrounded on three sides by quite astonishing works of Buddhist art. "Annyeong haseyo" ("hello") said a woman as she emerged from one of the temple buildings. Bronze Buddhas are placed in two or three small caves with candles lit by their sides. I started to leave, but was compelled to turn back for one more look.
I took a narrow uphill path, having to change t-shirt halfway, such was the effect of the heat and humidity. The path continued upwards and passed a helicopter pad. Grass and weeds grew through cracks in the concrete. Just as I was beginning to wonder where I was headed, the trail turned and came back out by the South Gate. At a fork in the road I came to a second watchtower. A crow stood on the horizontal beam above the entrance, silhouetted against the hazy sky. It turned its headed so I faced its profile, cawed, stretched its wings and flew away.
From here it was not far to the cable car back to the city. Alas, I arrived at the cable car minutes after the last departure of the day, and the whole area was deserted. I sat on a bench and ate a rice ball and my last biscuits while the mosquitoes gathered in preparation for an onslaught. I took a path that twists downhill through the forest under the route of the cable car, down steep stone steps that made my tiring knees creak. An hour later, my journey back to the city was complete.
I arrived at nearby Beomeosa Temple, an expansive and impressive collection of temples built over hundreds of years and grouped together on a single stretch of hillside. To walk the alleyways between them is to step into a postcard of the past, as butterflies land on the dusty paths between low-tiled walls whilst the sound of monks chanting drifts in the air.
Leaving Beomeosa, I embarked on a sweaty uphill climb on steps formed by large rocks leading to the North Gate of the fortress. From here, the trail continues to the East Gate, through wooded sections and over hills that offer look-out points over the countryside beyond and back towards Busan. As the path rose above the level of the trees, the noise from the cicadas changed as they stopped clacking in the branches and instead flew around my head in their hundreds.
It was Tuesday morning and for long spells I was alone on the trail. At an old watchtower, a man and his son passed in the opposite direction. The man sang a folk song as they took a break by the watchtower.
I reached the South Gate by mid-afternoon and turned off the path towards the village of Nammun (literally, "South Gate Village"), where there is nothing but a few restaurants and tennis courts but apparently hardly any people. I went downhill through damp forest and came out by a sealed road where families sat relaxing by a stream. I turned on to the road for the steep climb towards Seokbulsa Temple.
It started to rain. I continued uphill for 15 minutes or so before stopping to buy a pineapple Fanta from a strategically-placed vending machine. After a couple more switchbacks, I reached the temple. Ten-metre high Buddhas are carved into the stone of the cliff face, huge rocks that form an opening that allows you to walk in and be surrounded on three sides by quite astonishing works of Buddhist art. "Annyeong haseyo" ("hello") said a woman as she emerged from one of the temple buildings. Bronze Buddhas are placed in two or three small caves with candles lit by their sides. I started to leave, but was compelled to turn back for one more look.
I took a narrow uphill path, having to change t-shirt halfway, such was the effect of the heat and humidity. The path continued upwards and passed a helicopter pad. Grass and weeds grew through cracks in the concrete. Just as I was beginning to wonder where I was headed, the trail turned and came back out by the South Gate. At a fork in the road I came to a second watchtower. A crow stood on the horizontal beam above the entrance, silhouetted against the hazy sky. It turned its headed so I faced its profile, cawed, stretched its wings and flew away.
From here it was not far to the cable car back to the city. Alas, I arrived at the cable car minutes after the last departure of the day, and the whole area was deserted. I sat on a bench and ate a rice ball and my last biscuits while the mosquitoes gathered in preparation for an onslaught. I took a path that twists downhill through the forest under the route of the cable car, down steep stone steps that made my tiring knees creak. An hour later, my journey back to the city was complete.
