ODAE-SAN, South Korea: South Koreans are weekend warriors. The sport of choice? Hiking. Mountains are everywhere and most can be climbed in a day. You need only the following prerequisites: a love of nature, full multi-course meals packed into Tupperware, several bottles of rice drink and thousands of dollars in high-end apparel.
Hiking has long been a South Korean pastime, but after years of rapid growth, it now amounts more to a national identity. In the typical month, about 1 in 3 Koreans goes hiking more than once. The mountainous national park north of Seoul attracts more visitors annually than the Grand Canyon.
Part of South Korea’s hiking love can be explained by geography. The country is a topographical eggshell mattress, covered with hundreds of climbable — but steep — peaks.
But it’s the rituals surrounding Korean hiking that define mountain culture here. The pace is brisk, and there is picnicking at the top, as big groups spread out on blankets and devour elaborate spreads. They also drink the rice drink, sometimes lots of it. Amazingly, the hike down is still brisk. If South Korea is famous for its pressure-cooker schools and 60-hour work weeks, hiking represents a far more attractive kind of endurance test. Koreans hold mountains in almost mythical regard, as Americans do the open spaces of the West, but hiking has taken off as an activity for the masses more recently, a product of national prosperity and growing leisure time. (Only in 2004 did the government shorten the workweek from six to five days.) It helps that many of the most picturesque mountains ring the outskirts of Seoul, a capital region with about 25 million people.
“It’s almost like an addiction,” says Shin Soon-no, 65, who hikes several times per week with her husband, Kim Hong-seong. “Your body starts to crave it.”
Even farther afield, though, South Korean mountains tend to be clogged with a breathtaking flow of humanity — particularly on the weekend. Traffic backs up on the roads toward the base. In the parking lot, groups pour out of buses, form circles and stretch. Women put on visors the size of umbrellas.
In other countries, perhaps it is OK to set out on a hike in sneakers and shorts. But in Korea, Everest-type wear is the norm even for the tamest mountains. Those who show up in shabbier gear — typically younger folks — might get a friendly lecture about the importance of multiple layers and sweat-wicking technology. Anybody shamed into upgrading their clothing can do so right away. At the foot of Cheongye Mountain, a modest peak in southern Seoul, more than 20 outdoor companies — North Face, Marmot, Lafuma, Montbell — have stores. Jackets can go for $800. Walking sticks for $250. Apparel workers say Koreans wear, on average, $1,000 worth of garb for a summer hike.
“And probably twice that in winter,” said Kim Sang-beom, owner of a Black Yak store, which sells the upscale Korean domestic outdoor brand.
“Of course, you can wear jeans on a hike, but a lot of Koreans believe they need the perfect clothes,” Kim said. “There are a lot of hiking clubs in Korea, and let’s say you join a club and everybody is carrying hiking sticks and wearing the best gear. If you show up in jeans, you might feel very out of place.”
Between 2006 and 2012, South Korea’s outdoor apparel market grew almost 500 percent, according to the Chosun Ilbo, a major daily newspaper. High-end gear is so commonplace that Koreans, particularly baby boomers, wear it even when going nowhere near a mountain. It’s suitable for travelling and shopping, restaurants and coffee shops.
“Anything but weddings and funerals,” Kim Hye-yeong, 64, decked out in a light green North Face jacket, declared as she climbed a mountain with friends.
Theories abound on why Koreans approach hiking as they do. Some say that South Korea has applied its hyper-competitiveness to the mountains: Hikers are in a race to look good, and in turn prove that they have money to spend. Others point to the more benign aspects and say that the mountains are a place to have a shared experience, a sense of community. Atop mountains, it isn’t uncommon to see strangers join together and share food, anything from dried persimmon to marinated beef.
“The main purpose for hiking for most people is to be healthy,” said Kim Yong-won, a hiking guide who leads weekend tour groups. “But for Koreans it’s to eat on the mountains.”
On one recent Sunday, Kim’s group headed out of Seoul at 6am, bound for Odae-san, about three hours to the west.
The temperatures hung in the low 80s and the hikers started on the trail in a single-file line, so crowded was the path. But after about 30 minutes, the bottleneck loosened, and hikers moved up in twos or threes.
The hike was 13 kilometers — about eight miles — but several in Kim’s group said they were up for something more challenging. One hiker took a detour that added several miles. Two women, both in their 50s, joked that they wouldn’t even be sore after this one.
Another hiker, Lee Tae-guk, says he has spent years seeking out the toughest climbs, and not just in Korea. He’s done Mount Fuji in Japan, Mount Kinabalu in Malaysia, Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. And after finishing this hike, he was heading on his next adventure.
“Tibet,” he said. “I’m taking four days off this week. I’ll be sleeping in a tent.”
Yoonjung Seo contributed to this report.
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