May 1 - 25 (Part 10) Jeju Island Continues

May 11th: Hallasan, Hallabong and Humility

Our last full day on Jeju Island. 

How is it possible that time both stretches and flies at the same time? When we arrived, everything felt new and wide open. And now suddenly, we were (almost) saying goodbye.

Today was supposed to be big. We wanted to go inland to meet the giant of South Korea: not from afar this time, but properly. The one and only Hallasan (한라산).

Formed around 1.6 million years ago when land rose from the ocean floor, Hallasan is more than just a mountain. Its name means “a mountain so high it can pull down the Milky Way”. At 1,947 meters, it is the highest peak in South Korea. That alone tells you something about how she has been perceived for centuries: sacred, powerful, untouchable.

At its summit lies the crater lake Baengnokdam (백록담), “White Deer Lake”, wrapped in legends about heavenly beings descending to play with white deer. Myth and geology intertwined. Fire and water. Heaven and earth.

Hallasan forms the heart of Jeju itself. There’s even a saying: “Jeju is Hallasan and Hallasan is Jeju”.

And it’s true. You can see the mountain from almost everywhere on the island, although its peak loves to hide in the clouds.

Knowing Your Limits

Climbing Hallasan properly is no joke. The full hike is about 19 kilometers and takes around 8 hours including breaks. You have to start early and there’s a strict time limit; no descending in the dark.

But after yesterday’s very long hike… we moved a bit slower that morning. And instead of pushing through just because we had planned it, we chose something different.

We chose not to climb that high.

That decision felt strangely symbolic. Sometimes strength is not about conquering the highest peak. Sometimes it is about listening: to your body, to your energy, to the quiet voice that says: ‘not today’.

Instead of conquering Hallasan, we would admire her from one of her smaller volcanic siblings: Eoseungsaengak (어승생악).

Sweetness Along the Way

From our hotel it was about a 45-minute drive to the Eorimok Valley trailhead. On the way, we made a very important stop…

…for Hallabong tangerines, big, juicy and sunshine-colored.

Hallabong is a winter fruit that symbolizes Jeju. Its name comes from its shape: the little bump on top resembles the peak of Hallasan. Sweeter than regular oranges, easy to peel, thick-skinned but soft inside… and honestly? Completely addictive.

Yes, they are rich in antioxidants and vitamin C. Yes, they are good for your skin and immune system.

But more importantly:

They were absolutely delicious 😜

Citrus has been grown on Jeju for centuries. Once reserved for kings during the Goryeo dynasty, Jeju tangerines are now one of the island’s most important products. At one point, nearly half of Jeju’s income came from citrus farming. The volcanic soil and ocean climate create the perfect growing conditions.

And you can taste that.

The Quiet Climb

The Eoseungsaengak Trail is short, only 2.6 km round trip, but climbs to 1,169 meters. Mostly wooden stairs. Lots of them. Over 860, they say; I didn’t count!

Step by step.

The path winds through dense green forest, cool and shaded. It was quiet. Hardly any people. The kind of peaceful hike where you can actually hear birds, wind and your own breathing.

There is something meditative about climbing stairs in silence. You don’t rush. You don’t compete. You just move.

We stopped to read the information boards about wildflowers, birds and animals. We took pictures. We took our time.

And in less than half an hour, we were on top.

And there she was.

Hallasan. In the distance, we could see her peak tipping the clouds.

Not conquered. Not climbed. Just observed. Powerful and calm, with clouds drifting lazily around her peak. In the distance, the coastline shimmered.

I realized something standing there. You don’t always have to stand ‘on top’ of something to feel connected to it. Sometimes witnessing is enough.

A Darker Chapter on the Summit

At the top stands a concrete military bunker, a remnant from 1945. A Japanese military installation, built as part of the island’s last defensive efforts during the Pacific War.

Two bunkers. Three tunnel fortifications. A 300-meter tunnel with three entrances.

Standing there, surrounded by nature and sunshine, it felt strange to think about the tragic history once tied to this peaceful place. Jeju’s beauty holds layers: volcanic, historical, emotional. Places can be peaceful now and still carry the weight of what once was.

It made me think about how landscapes, just like people, can heal, but never fully erase their past.

A Bird I Couldn’t See

On our way down, we heard this most strange, but at the same time very distinctive bird sound.

We couldn’t see the bird. We couldn’t identify it. But the sound was so pure and clear that I immediately had to record it. Sometimes the invisible leaves the strongest impression. Not everything beautiful needs to be seen to be real. 

To let you hear this specific sound for yourselves. I’m sharing the video link here.
https://youtube.com/shorts/-cyHgXckmho?si=8yrm2FOcF4btpWhl

At the beginning or perhaps the end of the trail, we stepped into the Halla Mountain Tourist Information Center. After being outside with wind, stone and sky, it felt almost intimate to enter a space dedicated entirely to the story of Hallasan.

Inside, before exploring the exhibition halls, we of course made our customary stop at the 화장실. Public restroom in Korea are known for being impeccably clean, but what struck me once again was their thoughtfulness. There was genuine attention to accessibility, including supportive handles at the urinal for men who cannot stand steadily on their own. It is such a small detail, yet it says so much about consideration and dignity. And yes, we also encountered the now-familiar electric toilets, another reminder that even the most ordinary spaces here are approached with care and quiet innovation.

                    

The different exhibition halls unfolded the mountain’s history through old photographs, memories and soft animations. There was a breathtaking 360° panorama showcasing Hallasan’s changing moods and landscapes, from misty ridges to snow-covered silence. Seeing the mountain from above, after having walked along its slopes, gave it a different dimension. Less distant. More alive.

One display especially caught my attention: a pictorial folding screen illustrating the Ten Scenic Views of Yeongju. Yeongju, I learned, is another historic name for Jeju, just like Tamna. In the late Joseon era, the scholar Lee Hanwoo (1818–1881), born on Jeju Island, selected what he considered the island’s ten most outstanding landscapes and named them Yeongju Sipgyeong.

The version displayed here was created in the early twentieth century by Chunwon Jung Jaemin and is now housed at the Jeju National University Museum. Seeing these landscapes painted in delicate brushstrokes made me realize something quietly powerful: long before cameras, long before tourism, people were already trying to capture the soul of this island.

Hallasan was never just a mountain. It was memory. Identity. A presence that shaped how people saw their world.

The Mastercard Moment 😅

And then came a very human moment.

Back at the parking lot, adventure struck again, but not the kind we had planned,

In South Korea, paying by credit card is easy and almost universal. So we confidently slid my Mastercard into the machine.

Only, instead of inserting the card into the card slot, we accidentally slid my Mastercard into the ‘cash’ slot.

And it got stuck. Really?!

I could see the card. Just out of reach. My heart started racing. We were leaving Jeju the next day. What if…?

We pressed the assistance button. A woman answered in English (a small miracle at that moment). We had to wait.

Fifteen long minutes. Cars lining up behind us. Only one exit.

Finally, two staff members arrived with a key. They opened the machine, but still couldn’t free the card.

At some point I asked if I could try again.

There I was. On my knees. In a parking lot. Carefully, stubbornly pulling at a piece of plastic like it was the most precious object in the world.

And then… it came out.

The relief. The gratitude. The laughter afterwards.

They were so kind. So patient. They even told us we could leave without paying.

It struck me again how often we had been met with kindness during this journey. In small, practical moments. Not grand gestures, just simple humanity.

Moving West

After calming down (mostly me 😉), we drove toward Hallim Park (한림공원) near Hyeopjae Beach (협재수욕장).

Golden afternoon light. The sea slowly appearing on the horizon. The day not yet finished.

And as I looked back once more toward where Hallasan stood inland, I felt something unexpected. We hadn’t climbed her. But she had still given us something.

Perspective.

And sometimes, that is the greater summit.

Gardens & Quiet Wonder

Hallim Park: established in 1971 on what was once barren land, the park is now a lush botanical paradise of nearly 100,000 square meters. Palm Tree Road. Bonsai Garden. Subtropical plants. Water gardens.

And most famously: the lava caves Ssangyonggul (쌍용굴) and Hyeopjaegul (협재굴), rare two-dimensional caves formed by volcanic activity.

The park faces the sea, with views toward Biyangdo Island (비양도) in front of Hyeopjae Beach and the light in the late afternoon was soft and golden.

We had a little over an hour before closing time, just enough to wander without rushing.

The Water Garden felt calm and reflective. The Subtropical Botanic Garden warm and slightly exotic. 

Along the winding paths, colourful Jeju women tended the plants with quiet focus. Wide-brimmed hats shaded their faces, patterned sleeves brushed against blossoms, and tied securely around their waists was a small red cushion, a practical seat they could lower anywhere between soil and stone. 

It was such a simple detail, but so typical. Prepared. Grounded. Close to the earth. Their steady movements felt like part of the garden itself, as if the beauty we admired was not just planted here, but patiently cared for, season after season.

In the Stone & Bonsai Garden we stood quietly in front of a bonsai tree more than 300 years old.

Three hundred years.

Suddenly, our little Mastercard drama felt impressively insignificant.

Nearby stood another bonsai that had lived for more than 150 years.

And then there was one whose twisted trunk resembled an old woman with long flowing hair: patient, weathered, almost whispering stories of seasons long past.

These trees did not rush. They endured. They were shaped by careful hands, wind, pruning and time. 

Standing there, I felt how differently time moves in a bonsai garden. Not in hours or inconveniences, but in decades and centuries.

Leaving the quiet wisdom of ancient trees behind, we slowly made our way toward the Bird Garden, where stillness would give way to movement and the soft rustling of wings.

In the Bird Garden we locked eyes with a majestic white peacock and a very curious ostrich. For a moment I wasn’t entirely sure who was observing whom.

We walked through the Folk Village, imagining island life centuries ago: slower, simpler, closer to the rhythm of nature.

And then we entered the caves.

Inside the Lava and Light of Ssangyong and Hyeopjae Cave

Here we entered Ssangyong Cave, literally meaning “Two Dragons”. And once inside, the name suddenly made sense. The cave branches and curves in a way that resembles two dragons intertwined, frozen in stone.

Formed by the eruption of Hallasan Mountain, this cave carries the raw force of volcanic fire. But what makes it truly extraordinary is something rare: here, a lava cave and a limestone cave meet and merge. That combination is almost unheard of.

Originally, the cave would have been entirely black, hardened lava carved by flowing magma. But over time, rainwater filtered through layers of crushed seashells that once covered this area. The shells dissolved into lime-rich water, which slowly seeped into the cave. Drop by drop, year after year, it transformed parts of the dark volcanic interior into something golden.

Inside, we saw stalactites and stalagmites, formations that normally do not grow in lava caves. It felt like witnessing two geological worlds colliding. Black lava shelves still mark the ancient pathways of molten rock, while limestone formations shimmer softly beside them.

Even more astonishing: fossilized seashells, including abalone, have been found here. Evidence that this area may once have been under the sea long before the cave system fully formed. According to a 1986 survey, the surrounding lava cave network stretches nearly 17 kilometers and includes around twenty interconnected caves. Standing inside, that sense of vast underground mystery was almost tangible.

Just a short distance away lies Hyeopjae Cave, named after the nearby village. Like Ssangyong, it was formed by volcanic eruptions from Hallasan and the powerful flow of lava. And like its neighbour, it carries both lava and limestone characteristics.

Here too, the story of transformation is written in stone. Wind-blown sand mixed with crushed shell powder from the nearby beach gradually piled up above the cave. Rain dissolved the lime from those shells and carried it downward into the volcanic rock. Slowly, the originally dark lava cave began changing into a warm, golden limestone chamber.

What once was black and fiery became layered with softness and light.

Walking through these caves felt like stepping through time itself, from molten beginnings to patient transformation. Fire shaped the structure. Water reshaped the soul.

Evening at Hyeopjae

At 6 p.m. the park closed, but the day wasn’t finished. The sky was still bright, so we walked to Hyeopjae Beach.

And wow.

The sand is almost white because it’s mixed with crushed seashells. The sea glowed cobalt blue. Volcanic rocks framed the coastline. Evergreen trees lined the background. And just offshore, Biyangdo Island, calm and steady in the water.

The shoreline stretches long and inviting. The water is shallow and gentle, without sudden drops. Peaceful. Safe.

Here we discovered tiny hermit crabs in the intertidal zone, small, busy creatures carrying their borrowed homes along the sand.

Here you will find the video link of the busy tiny hermit crabs: https://youtube.com/shorts/6vOoiLASI2g?si=Gb-1gNVoct9L2lk7

Watching them, I smiled. Even the smallest beings here seemed perfectly adapted to island life, moving with the tide, never against it.

Small Details That Stay

As we walked back toward the parking lot, something quietly poetic caught my eye: a pair of black high heels, standing neatly in front of the door of a small, empty building.

Abandoned? Forgotten? Or simply waiting?

It reminded me of another pair I had seen earlier in Seoul, left behind in a bicyle basket as if someone had stepped out of their own story mid-sentence. Objects like these carry traces of lives we will never fully know.

Travel is filled with such small mysteries, silent details that linger longer than landmarks ever could.

Last Night in Jeju

Back at the hotel, I was taking photos of the softly coloring swimming pool when, in the background, I noticed the full moon shimmering over the ocean. Its silver light stretched across the water, gently revealing the dark silhouette of Beomseom Island resting against the sea.

Below me, the underwater lights slowly shifted from blue to red to green, their colors reflecting quietly on the surface.

Was it really the lights that created the atmosphere? Or was it the feeling of a beautiful final evening? Maybe atmosphere is never just around us, maybe it always lives partly within us.

In this next video, the pool lights in front of the hotel restaurant shifting colors, the evening mist gently rising from the surface and the quiet hum of the water circulating: a calm rhythm to end the day… https://youtu.be/idvo8UhWqGc?si=lsdPzyZv-pPq22lo 

Dinner was served just before the kitchen closed at 10:30 p.m. Yes, we are late diners. But tonight deserved to stretch a little longer.

Tomorrow, at the end of the morning, we will leave.

We arrived on May 8th. Just a handful of days and yet this island has grown on me in a way I didn’t expect.

The volcanic landscapes.

The kindness of strangers.

The quiet forests.

The sweetness of Hallabong.

The strength of Hallasan.

The old bonsai trees and twisted trunk.

The tiny hermit crabs navigating the intertidal zone.

The lonely high heels.

Jeju feels wild and gentle at the same time. Strong but never loud. It does not overwhelm you. It unfolds.

It has given me perspective. It has given me small lessons in humility. It has reminded me to listen: to my body, to the landscape, to the moment.

And it has left me with something else:

The desire to return.

So tonight, a small soju toast: to the island, to its wind and waves and to the people of Jeju.

건배🥂

As I look back on our days on Jeju Island, I realize it was never about climbing the highest peak of Hallasan or ticking off every highlight. It was about learning when to push forward and when to pause.

It was about sweet Hallabong juice on my fingers, ancient lava beneath my feet and birds I could not see but could hear. About old bonsai trees in Hallim Park, shaped by time and patience and that twisted trunk resembling an old woman with long, flowing hair, as if nature itself had been quietly sculpting stories for decades. It was about stepping into the cool darkness of the lava caves hidden within the park, feeling the island’s volcanic heart from the inside.

It was about the tiny hermit crabs in the intertidal zone of Hyeopjae Beach, carrying their fragile homes as the tide gently shifted around them. About a stubborn Mastercard that tested my patience, strangers whose kindness restored my calm and even a pair of lonely high heels standing silently somewhere along the way, a small mystery I will never solve.

Jeju has shown me that strength can be quiet. That beauty can rise from fire. That not every summit needs to be conquered to leave a lasting mark. Some places do not just impress you, they settle into you.

And this island, with its wind, its waves and its volcanic heart, has quietly found its place in mine.

Tomorrow we trade island winds for runway lights as we fly back to Busan, arriving late at our hotel Grand Josun Busan after picking up our rental car at Gimhae International Airport. And with a traditional hanok stay in Gyeongju already booked this morning, a new chapter of our Korean journey is quietly waiting to unfold.