Lost in Honam: Dongseok-san’s Serrated Edge – Escaping Injury on Jindo’s Sketchiest Mountain

Dongseok-san’s Serrated Edge

Escaping Injury on Jindo’s Sketchiest Mountain

By Isaiah Winters

▲ This steep jumble of stairs was my favorite.

On my first bus ride from Incheon Airport to my new home in Gwangju, I remember taking out a notepad and jotting down my first impressions. While the bus barreled down the highway, one of the first things I noted about Korea’s west was how so many of its innumerable mountains seemed to spring up from out of nowhere and then disappear just as suddenly. Some even stood alone like tiny, mountain-shaped hills punctuating an otherwise flat landscape. This was in stark contrast to my home region, where mountains loomed like jagged giants and the hills knew to stay in their low, round, gentle places.

Among the ample little peaks studding Korea’s west, one that’s recently left me lovestruck is Jindo Island’s Dongseok-san. It’s about as far southwest as you can drive in Korea and a solid 2.5 hours from Gwangju, most of which is fairly boring, save the part where Mokpo Bridge affords you views of Yudal-san on the left and Sewol-ho moored on the right. Once you cross Jindo Bridge, however, the island reveals its Arcadian charm along fun, meandering country roads that twist and turn all the way to Cheonjongsa, the temple at the foot of Dongseok-san. At just over 200 meters, the mountain is tiny, but its saw-toothed ridge and vertical drops make it the most dangerous mountain I’ve hiked in Korea. That’s exactly why I was so excited to return just two weekends after my first visit.

The hiking infrastructure alone is somewhat of a DIY marvel. If you begin your hike from the temple, a vivid, red staircase greets you through a parting of bamboo but then, about 50 stairs up, gives way to a zigzag of halfrotted wooden stairs, some of which have nearly been washed out by torrential rains over the last few years. Once those stairs have completely crumbled to dust, you’ve got to hoist yourself up the trail’s many boulders using anything you can – branches, stumps, and even other boulders. Once you make it up to the lower shoulder of the ridge,

the vegetation grows sparse and a patchwork of bridges, ladders, handrails, climbing rings, knotted ropes, and diamond plate metal stairs are your only lifelines. Though some of the infrastructure seemed janky in some areas, the fixtures turned out to be remarkably sturdy and well placed once my life depended on them.

The peaks these motley fixtures lead to offer many great places to relax and take in the stunning views. At the shoulder above the temple, the first viewpoint you’ll likely reach is a large, smoothed-out hollow in the rockface that blocks both the afternoon sunlight and onshore winds – perfect for a respite before continuing up to higher points. Following this, if you take the nearly vertical staircase leading left, you’ll reach a large, barren peak with great views but no shelter. This is definitely a dangerous part of the mountain, but the left shoulder it brings you to is the best spot to enjoy a meal in the shade beneath one of the mountain’s highest patches of foliage. That’s where we ate lunch and took what I think are the best photos of the hike.

"The hiking infrastructure alone is somewhat of a DIY marvel."

If after the first viewpoint you head right instead of left, you’ll walk through a nice, tree-lined path that leads to a low, windy ridge between the two most prominent peaks. The trail’s infrastructure along this leg of the hike is particularly eclectic, like a jungle gym for adults, so if you rely more on your upper body to move yourself along, you’ll get a full-body workout, not just the usual burning calves and thighs felt on most hikes. This Ninja Warrior course is good preparation for the two highest peaks further along the trail. The pointiest and most dramatic peak comes

▲ These abandoned hanok farmhouses are hard to miss when visiting the mountain.

first – a steep rockface with nothing to help you up it save a pair of knotted climbing ropes secured with metal rings. Although this sharpest peak is potentially the mountain’s most dangerous point, it’s much worse to look at than to actually climb.

It’s at this second-highest peak that you’ll get maybe the best views. Dongseok-san is blessed in that it’s near the coast, so you not only see the blue sea all along the western horizon, but if time and visibility are on your side, the sunset will arrest your attention for longer than is safe. Remember: You still have to get down from this natural obstacle course before it’s too dark to see. But if the distant coastal blues and sunset vantage points weren’t alluring enough already, Dongseok-san is also flanked by two large reservoirs visible from its many peaks, so you get your money’s worth for such a quick hike. I admit that on both visits I was so satisfied with the secondhighest peak that I didn’t bother to visit the main, slightly higher one. It’s sort of like when you leave a book unfinished, not because it was bad but because the amount you read was simply good enough.

Given how small and far away Dongseok-san is, if you make it all the way out there, I recommend breaking up the drive with a few noteworthy pitstops. Mokpo and Sewol-ho are good stops halfway from Gwangju, and one of Jindo’s many beaches may be worth visiting until the afternoon temperatures cool down. I know one beach that’s particularly good, but it’s the only good one, so that secret dies with me. It’s worth noting that one of the things Jindo is famous for is hongju, a strong, red liquor that you can buy at roadside shops and even some local convenience stores. It’s a great souvenir to buy on the way home – one with a very unique taste that you’ll either love or hate. Lastly, Jindo-eup is a cool little town that has a surprising number of good restaurants where you can get excellent Jeolla cuisine before heading back. Together, these stop-off points are sure to ease the drudgery of the long drive and make for one hell of a daytrip.

Photographs by Isaiah Winters.

The Author

Born and raised in Chino, California, Isaiah Winters is a pixel-stained wretch who loves writing about Gwangju and Honam, warts and all. He particularly likes doing unsolicited appraisals of abandoned Korean properties, a remnant of his time working as an appraiser back home. You can find much of his photography on Instagram @d.p.r.kwangju.