Lost in Honam: If You Build It, Will They Come? Yonggwolsan’s New “Sky Road”

If You Build It, Will They Come?

Yonggwolsan’s New “Sky Road”

By Isaiah Winters

Acliffside boardwalk I’ve long had my eye on has finally opened just northeast of Sunchang, Jeollabuk-do. Located alongside the bulging rockface of Yonggwolsan, the new “Sky Road” (하늘길) zigzags for long stretches up the mountainside, offering unparalleled views of the Seomjin River valley below. It’s the latest manifestation of the region’s push to develop the local tourism industry, for better and for worse. This month, in a stark deviation from this column’s usual themes, I’ll try my hand at the topics of hiking and tourism gimmickry.

Yonggwolsan (용궐산, 646 m.) and its boardwalk bandolier first came to my attention last January during a pleasant detour. I’d originally been on my way to do a punishing weekday hike in the snow up Baengnyeonsan (백련산, 759 m.) until I spotted a row of wooden planks along a cliff face. Curious, I stopped the car and made my way up to the trailhead but was quickly deterred by caution tape and the sound of drilling. I vowed to satisfy my curiosity another day and continued on to my intended hike, which was predictably cold, lonely, and miserable – just the way we Winters like it.

In June, I made my dogged return to Yonggwolsan to not only walk its planks and scale its peak but to also camp overnight across the river. It was a glorious plan except for the fact that the damned thing still hadn’t been finished. By September it finally had, so I made my way there one more time for revenge’s sake. (In retrospect, all I had to

do was find the opening date online, but that requires foresight I don’t have when it comes to spontaneous road trips.) The third time was a charm, and the boardwalk, though still under construction in some areas, was entirely open to the public.

To the deafening tune of generators, drills, and squawking birds, my ascent to and up the boardwalk didn’t take more than 30–40 minutes, picture breaks included. Along the way, the river valley views were predictably excellent; however, the boardwalk and rockface themselves weren’t much to look at, though at one point I was pleasantly surprised by the biggest mushroom I’ve ever seen – about the size of a pizza from The First Alleyway. With so few visitors, quite a lot of hikers shirked the mask mandate, while the construction crew disregarded any semblance of hygiene theater all together. Hiking with a mask is admittedly terrible, but as a foreigner, the added scrutiny is always palpable, so I’m sure to have mine on whenever I spot anyone regardless of distance. The hike up the rest of Yonggwolsan is similarly glorious once you get beyond the boardwalk. From there, the mountain’s original trail quickly asserts itself. Punctuating its long, tree-lined dirt paths are sudden rocky outcrops fastened with knotted ropes for you to hoist yourself up with. In addition to an abundance of fungi, smatterings of old, weather-beaten masks can be found here and there, with some ground into the dirt and others dangling from low branches. At the summit is a large, raised platform with benches and a stunning view to the west. I lucked out and got the whole thing to myself for a good 20 minutes following my 1.5-hour ascent.

Now, why such an impressive mountain needed a boardwalk in the first place is beyond me, which goes the same for so many other overdeveloped natural wonders around Honam (and Korea generally). Given this mountain’s isolation within one of the least densely populated provinces in the country, the attempt to put a there there is quite blatant. In fact, there isn’t even a paved,

two-way road to and from the new boardwalk yet – just a long, single-lane strip of uneven concrete. Cars have to squeeze by each other whenever the shoulder allows it, and when there’s no shoulder, drivers have an awkward stare-off to see who should back up to the nearest one.

As hastily thought-out as these tourist gimmicks may seem, they at least tend to develop in clusters. In the case of Honam’s newest boardwalk, it’s linked to a well-situated campsite directly across the river via a winding rock path that offers beautiful, glassy reflections at sunset. The campsite has great facilities with a much better road in and out, and the best part during our stay was that we were the only campers there because the area just isn’t that well known. If you plan to camp there, be sure to bring enough bungee cords, as it’s a platform campsite – meaning there’s no ground to hammer stakes into.

All in all, Yonggwolsan’s superb campsite, river, boardwalk, and peak are enough to keep people like me returning a few times a year, but whether this “if you build it, they will come” tourism strategy works is to be determined. I’ve nevertheless got to hand it to the planners in Sunchang-gun for drumming up tourism in this way and hope they see a good return on their investment. That county’s new suspension bridge at nearby Chaegyesan is another example of this rural build-and-see strategy, though the bridge’s planning involved far superior placement, promotion, and infrastructure. It’s definitely a fun stop-off point along Highway 12 that leads to, well, getting back in the car and returning home. Now that the new but poorly accessible “Sky Road” is similarly built, will anyone even bother to come?

Photographs by Isaiah Winters.

The Author

Born and raised in the shadow of an infamous Californian prison, Isaiah Winters is a pixel-stained wretch who loves writing about Gwangju and Honam, warts and all. When he’s not working or copyediting, he’s usually driving through the countryside on his way to good beaches or mountains. You can find more of his photography on @d.p.r.kwangju.

◀ Morning view from the platform campsite across the river from Yonggwolsan. ▼ Picturesque cliffside trees are common at Yonggwolsan.