The group of Seoul'ites that has charitably taken me in is a confused melting pot of individuals. Saffas, Yanks, Koreans, gay, straight and everything in between. The one thing that we all have in common though (besides alcohol addiction) is a binding will to see places and try new things. If you're comfortable spending weekends with a good book or playing Starcraft, then you're not gonna make the cut. There isn't much room for lazy and even less room for balance and moderation. It's full tilt or nothing. So when the idea of climbing the famed Soraksan mountain range cropped up at the bar, between tequila 6 and 7, the decision to sign up was unanimous. It would be a huge mission, getting everybody to Seoul and then bussing it to the East coast before the climb could even begin. But the members were keen, and I suspect that a few gym towels were dusted off that week as we all prepared our unsuspecting bodies for the uphill onslaught that lay ahead.
The big names all made appearances. Seoul's most notorious celeb Dorian arrived straight from the clubs, sporting a stringy moustache that belonged in a Mexican cartoon and made local hikers clutch their wallets as he passed by. The Styvie twins were also snor'ed up in honour of Movember, and the two induced an early drinking session that we would all regret later. There was a tangible sense of camaraderie as we stood together in the shadow of the great mountain. Whether it was fuelled by the Soju shooters or the challenge that lay before as all, morale was high and the mood was tense. We set off.
The first obstacle we ran into was the news from some wannabee Sherpa's that half the mountain was closed due to a fire hazard. This was a major blow and meant that we could no longer camp up the mountain, and would have to return to the bottom to find any kind of shelter for the night. There was a sigh of relief from a few of us though, the ones that had left sleeping bags at home. Any hopes I had of persuading them to let us through on the inflated story that I was a volunteer fire-fighter, were fruitless. So we pushed on to another route, a bit discouraged but turning to more Soju to lift the spirits. We were sporting matching bandana's and the sheer magnitude of the challenge ahead prompted a mob mentality. Naturally, we formed a gang. Dorian casually told us of his street days with the Coat-hanger Gang with its roots in the Cape, and suggested we start a chapter here on the mountain, but a unanimous decision was passed that it was the worst name of any gang in existence. We'd thrown a couple of dodgy ones into the suggestion box ourselves and it took a cool head to brush off proposals such as the Bandana Bananas which, aside from only working when spoken in an American accent- wouldn't instill much fear in our rivals. The Longstreet Playboys almost snuck its way through the screening process but someone suggested that it sounded more like an elite Pimping service than a gang. And they were right. Finally we settled on the Seoraksan Seven, which came with its own set of problems. Chief among these was the fact that there were thirteen of us. But we let it slide, and the SS Gang trudged on up the path.
The party reached our destination in a somewhat anti-climatic mood, since we were not allowed to reach the summit. Hopes of a celebratory Rocky scene at the top fizzled out into a couple of high-fives and a handful of Soju shots. Our turn-around point was a temple which had been built into the side of the mountain. Any excitement or reverence was quickly stunted by the scolding we got upon entering the cave. In hindsight I think those monks had a fair point prohibiting a dozen drunken fools from disgracing their holy shrine, especially when sporting moustaches and chanting gang war cries.The hike concluded in a ceremony that has become customary to the group. Kai Bai Bo. Rock Paper Scissors. The stakes were high- the loser having to leap into the lake. There was an illusion of safety provided by the large group and the idea in all of our minds that, "surely, surely I can't lose to 12 other people." Maybe it was just in my mind. By the time we were down to 2 players the mood was tense and I felt like I was kicking for poles at Twickenham. When I lost the mood became Euphoric, and I briefly considered the option of fleeing the scene completely. But I couldn't. We were a gang, and if an SS member pulled a stunt like that he would be shunned for life. The stigma alone of being the guy that bailed was just not an option. I had to man up.
It's difficult to try and describe how cold that water was, and attempts at this have failed since the incident a few weeks ago. I still don't know how that pool was not frozen over. By the time I was in my jocks a crowd had gathered and our gang had become the Seoraksan Forty.-including the mountain police who were protesting against the rebellious act but not being taken very seriously. After putting off the act long enough to evoke jeers from friends and Ajumans alike, I had to make the leap. Those few minutes are a complete blur, a blackout. All I know for sure is that I had to be rescued by a life-ring and that I was dragged up the rocks in a haze of shame and hypothermia. I've been un-tagging myself in pictures for weeks..
NB question – Seoulians, Seoulons?
Pics at http://picasaweb.google.com/aidan.johnson2/SoraksanMountain#
