Mounts Bugaksan and Ingwansan

Climbing Seoul's "inner mountains" is a great way to work up a sweat and gain some great views of the city. There are a lot of historical and cultural features, too. A path up Bugaksan.

Not long ago, the mountain was off-limits to Seoulites for security reasons (it overlooks the presidential palace.) Bullet holes mark the site where three North Korean commandoes were killed in a raid on the executive mansion in 1968. Two dozen of their fellow agents were also killed.

One man was taken alive, later became a monk, and had a trail in the mountains named after him. His reputation was restored awfully fast. Kinda seems like the Ford Theater being renamed for John Wilkes Booth.

A slice of Seoul from above.

A skyscraper cluster. They seem to pop up everywhere, like mushrooms after a rain.

"Military area. Keep out."

A funny sign, given how much Koreans hate sunlight.

A portion of a 600-year-old fortress wall from the Joseon Dynasty. The dark-colored stones are original.

Mount Ingwansan has more of a spiritual bent, being sacred among shamanists. A rock garden outside an all-female Buddhist temple.

The temple grounds. Can't remember what this place is called.

From here I climb 45-degree granite boulders, trying not to slip. The rough going is rewarded by my first glimpse of Gaemimaeul. I had never heard of this place and did not expect to stumble upon it. "Gaemi" means "ant," so this is "Ant Village."

It's a poor enclave, protected from development by virtue of its steep terrain.

I'm not sure what to make of this place. It has a countercultural feel, but it also has a new middle school, some of the cars are nice, and some old folks while away the time on their front stoops. Many of the homes are whimsically decorated:

On the northwest slope of the mountain, I encounter the Guksadang shrine, home to this crazy geologic feature known as Seonbawi, or Seon Rock, which has figured prominently in landscape painting here for centuries. Women of childbearing age used to come here to pray for a boy, but I think it's now mostly a place for shamanistic rites.

These trees, pronounced ah-KAHSH-ee (not sure how to spell it), rain flowers on you everywhere in the hills, and they smell really good.

Mountain pigeons coo and magpies, with their blue-tipped wings and white chests, caw. It's a nice break from the city.