Toyohashi Alpine Club
Rock Climbing in South Korea
Insubong, Pukansan (811m)
April, 1995
Pukansan National Park, Seoul, South Korea
Report by Darren DeRidder
Party: Ian Ferguson and Darren DeRidder
Undoubtedly a full and detailed report of our entire trip would fill a small book so I'll be brief on some points and explain the climbing a bit more completely. Ian Ferguson and I first considered going to Insubong when Iain Williams announced his plans to go there with Malcolm Field for Golden Week. In the end, Iain and Mal decided against going due to the high price of tickets, and Ian F and I jumped on their boat, leaving them to sink in the sea of Golden Week hysteria back in Japan. While we were gone Iain and Mal did get some climbing of their own in however, on Tateyama. We had seven days in Seoul, South Korea, and hoped to climb a minimum of three days. Unfortunately I came down with a very bad cold the morning we were to leave and was not fit to climb for the first two days. Having been to Seoul and Insubong before, on my own, I suggested we stay in the city and commute to the mountain for climbing. Insubong is only a thirty minute cab ride and a short hike away from downtown Seoul. Not wishing to rely on the infamous Inn Daewon for accommodation, we phoned two other places and got a room at the YMCA "Hotel" where we stayed one night and enjoyed watching English TV on the US Armed Forces Channel AFRTS, which Ian pronounced was "horribly bad" and "cheese". Unscramble the letters and you get a suitable label for the type of programming on the channel.
The following day we got a room at the Kwang Pyung Yogwan, which I can now highly recommend. Not only was it much less expensive (about $12 per person per night), but it was a charming place to stay, and very clean as well, if not the Hyatt Regency.
After two days of sightseeing ("very handsome people, these Koreans"), we felt ready to go for Insubong.
What a mistake. The first day was a failure, and we realized then and there that we would be fortunate to get to the top of Insubong at all, even by it's easiest route. The route we selected was Insu B, a four pitch route that starts at the Insu B Terrace, which is itself about two pitches up the lower face. To get to the terrace there are a few options. One is to climb the "Great Slab" of the East Face (the main climbing face), going around a scimitar-shaped overhang on relatively low-angled rock, the heading up and left to the terrace, a second 40 meter pitch. The first pitch may be protected by natural pro in the first section, and there is a peg at 40 meters for the belay. From there to Insu B Terrace, it is 40 meters with no protection according to our guide. There may be a bolt in there somewhere now, and I succeeded two days later while traversing this slab to get a satisfactory friend placement in what would most likely by the upper section of this second pitch. I guess we'll never know; we never attempted the Big Slab. At 5.7, it isn't too tough, but 40 meters with no pro on pitch 2 didn't really turn my crank so we looked around to the left and found a 5.7 crack, one pitch, and it looked as if the crack would accommodate friends very nicely.
Starting the climb, I felt awkward and exposed. I put in the two largest friends before I even reached the main crack, and felt the ground was more difficult than indicated. Looking up, the top of the pitch didn't seem any closer, and I began to get a sense of the scale of the route. Making exposed and friction moves on well-spaced pro (my last piece was about 6 meters down) made me very uneasy. I estimated it would not be possible to climb this crack in one rope-length, and spotting a rusty ring bolt, tried to establish a belay anchor, but it was not possible to make a satisfactory anchor at this point, so, tying off on the bolt and passing the rope through, I rapped off, shaken.
I was disappointed and frustrated to have been defeated by a supposed 5.7. I was not ready to immediately try another lead. Ian, who had been patiently belaying me and watching, was also frustrated and suggested a wider crack on the left, and off-width, which we found in the guide was the start of a two-pitch 5.7 approach to the terrace with some bolts for protection at the end of the first pitch. Originally I had planned to do most of the leading. However, Ian's confident leading, such as the onsight 5.9 lead at Ishimakiyama in Toyohashi, which I had been both impressed and embarrassed by, gave me reason to believe he would have no difficulties handling some of the leading. "Forget it," I said, "We're swinging leads." Since I wasn't ready to lead yet Ian took the lead with his usual "give-it-a-try" attitude.
The first pitch was a shimmy up a steep, rounded off-width crack, protected by friends, to a rib running out of the crack and across the face to the left, where a traverse past bolt pro led to the belay at two bolts. Ian did a fine lead. Establishing a belay anchor from the two bolts was problematic. I explained from below, ineffectively. I was worried by this. I followed, anxious to see what sort of belay had been set up. It was sound, but I noticed Ian was reluctant to hang off the anchor and was balancing rather precariously on the rocky rib. I took the rack here and led through, up another offwidth and across a traverse of about 10 meters along a rib to a wide ledge just below the terrace. A vertical step split by two cracks was overcome by slotting a friend and then jamming up and over it in two short moves, and then I was on the terrace, where two bolts on the wall made a good belay station. Ian followed, mentioning that the traverse was less than pleasant and he preferred no to lead sections like that. I said I didn't mind it as much as the offwidths, though it was certainly exposed and a fall would have been disastrous. The rib provided fine footholds for smearing and was like walking up a ramp, almost. We moved over to the large pine tree which occupies the terrace and had a break.
This is where the real climb started, but it was already past noon. We had arrived at 9:30, but it had taken us a long time to get this far. We both had doubts about making it to the top. Since there were trees at the top of each pitch and we had two ropes, retreat was possible, so I took the lead, setting a time limit of about thirty minutes to complete the next pitch, the first pitch of the Insu B route, 40 meters of offwidth with a 5.8 crux just below the tree at the top. After following Ian's first lead, the old adrenaline started flowing, and I felt much, much better on the rock. Now I was really chomping at the bit and having set my mind to it, waited impatiently for Ian to get me on belay and then shot off up a triangular slab enclosed by walls on either side and culminating in a rough, fissured bulge. I succeeded in placing a very solid nut. This did a lot for my confidence as I knew we could both fall and the nut wouldn't budge. Once in the crack, a combination of arm-barring, heel-and-toe jamming, grunting and cursing allowed upward progress. I placed two friends. Towards the top the crack narrowed, then widened. I placed a friend in the narrow part and then moved up. The angle was nearly vertical here, and the crack flared into a deep, wide chimney for a couple of meters. Then , irritatingly, the edge of the crack constricted and became very tight, and I almost got my head stuck. I poked my nose out of the crack and got most of my upper body out. The tree was only a couple meters above me, leaning out. With my feet, knees, and hips, I jammed both legs in the crack. The constriction prevented further progress in the manner. I tried to move out of the crack further, but it was desperately exposed. I noticed a bolt on the face to my left, and downclimbing a couple of meters, stretched out and clipped it.
The result of clipping this bolt was horrendous rope-drag. I attempted the crux move a few more times, but could not do it and realized just in time that I was about to fall. There was only one thing to do. Taking two long slings and tying them together, I tossed one end up to the tree, hoping to loop it around the branch. On the second try, it did, and I reached out as far as I could to snag the end of the sling and pull it down. I clipped into this a pulled up on the slings, thus making it to the tree and avoiding the crux move. I got the idea from the account of the Bonatti Pillar. Hereafter, this pitch became the "Cowboy Pitch".
Once Ian had climbed up, we discussed the next section. It was a 5.7 crack. We had chosen this route because the pitches got progressively easier. Ian was willing to attempt it. I was shaken from dealing with the crux and nearly falling. The height and exposure wasn't helping our confidence at all. I noticed Ian put in the two large friends very quickly. The rotting stump of a tree protruded from the nearly vertical crack about six meters up. Standing on this, Ian realized he did not have any gear with which to protect the next several meters of the climb and decided to come down. He downclimbed and removed the friends. Downclimbing is always harder than climbing up, and when he got down, we were both ready to rap off and head for Seoul. Due to the time of day, our performance up to that point, and the amount of tension we were experiencing, I felt this was a good move. The toughest pitch had been climbed (with aid) and we could come back later to do the whole thing.
We returned to Seoul as we had come, hiking down to the park gate, then down the long road to the bus terminal, then riding good old bus 23 back "home". We were exhausted, and I still had a cold.
The following day was a rest day and we enjoyed touring the War Museum and poking around some shops in Itaewon, the tourist shop and night club area. There are lots of American GIs there as it is close to the base.
Neither of us felt like climbing the next day. Getting up and going was like getting up for work in the morning. This time we took a cab to avoid having to walk up the road from the bus terminal to the park gate, about 3 km. We spoke little on the way in. I wondered if Ian was not enjoying the trip. At the park gate, the man who sells the entry tickets recognized us. He greeted us in a very friendly manner and waved us through. Nice old chap. Two days before he had given us an English map, looked at our ropes and shaken his head as if to say, "You're crazy; don't kill yourselves!"
Once at the foot of Insubong, we discussed out approach to the terrace. We wanted to try the slab. Ian suggested that hiking up around to the right and then traversing left across the face of the slab looked feasible. Indeed, we were able to walk up to a point where a rib angled out across the face in the general direction of Insu B terrace. As we got ready to climb, each of us was alone in our own world of thoughts. Then Ian spoke up and said he had been teed off over the last couple days because I sent him off on lead on the first pitch and "left him to the wolves." He hoped to clear the air by bringing this into the open. Rather it made me realize that we had some weaknesses as a team. I felt that Ian had experienced the holy fear of God that often strikes into the hearts of climbers and had somehow turned it against me in the form of anger. I also realized that Ian had not anticipated doing much leading, if any. I suspect the height and exposure had affected him much more than he let on. I apologized and we set things straight. Still, I was dismayed. Ironically, all this strengthened my determination to lead out strongly, so I started up a smooth slab, angling up and left towards a bolt about 20 meters up, near the rib which ran across the face.
The angle was too steep to climb unprotected for such a distance, and my better judgment told me to get down. My determination had vanished. Reversing the moves was extremely delicate. Ian was belaying from the right-hand side. I had been traversing out left across the slab as I moved up. Below me the slab swept away in a smooth curve for about 50 meters, right to the base of the rock. Had I fallen, I would have tumbled past Ian, counting on him to hold me from above. I then would have pendulumed across the slab and into the boulders at the side. I was not interested in trying this maneuver. Taking a few steps back, I was soon on the side again, where the rocky trail runs up beside the slab and around the base of the mountain.
Higher up, the rib reached almost to the side of the face, so we scrambled up a little higher and this time Ian belayed from above, at some trees growing beside the big slab. I hopped onto the rib and edged out, feeling much better to have some substantial footholds. There was the bolt, about 20 meters out, so I clipped it and, not knowing where the next belay stance would be, brought Ian over. Again I set out and found an iron peg bent into a ring at the top, set into the rock along the rib. This was also about 20 meters out. Again I brought Ian over and again I set out, this time leaving the rib and climbing up and left to a bolt, also about 20 meters out. I brought Ian over. Some Korean climbers were moving up from the big slab below. The leader was extremely run out and headed straight upwards for the Oasis Terrace, starting point for many routes on Insubong. I think he was about 30 meters above his belayer with no pro. He started past us without clipping the bolt from which we were both hanging, but we called him over and he clipped the bolt. What a look of relief crossed his face! He would have gone the whole 50 meters without pro otherwise.
From this bolt I set out and moved up over the slabs to a crack where I placed a friend before traversing over to the terrace. The last move involved shuffling across a pretty steep section - scary. Anyhow, we had reached the terrace with not much trouble and it was still early in the day. Ian had volunteered to lead the "Cowboy Pitch", which he said wasn't too bad. He moved up well, getting the same good nut placement I had and slotting some friends as well before reaching the crux. Taking our some very long slings, he tried to "rope " the tree, without much success at first. He clipped a biner on the end of the sling, and finally flung the sling over the branch. He clipped into this and moved up to the tree.
When I followed, I attempted the crux while belayed from above and managed to reach out and grab the exposed root of the tree and then pull myself up. We took a break here, enjoying the views of Seoul. Some Korean climbers were coming up to the left of our crack. The leader climbed strongly and clipped into the anchor at the top of our pitch. He was wearing a body harness tied from narrow nylon webbing. His friend followed in tennis shoes!
I looked up at the next pitch, which was a vertical crack about three to four inches wide which continued up for about ten meters before turning into a corner crack. Knowing that I would have to space out my protection, I climbed up about six meters or so until I was above the rotten tree stump which stuck out of the crack. This was a good foothold, and I stopped to place a friend. I continued into the corner crack, placing another friend. The angle of the corner crack was less than vertical, but it was still steep. The walls which formed the v-shaped corner would allow some stemming moves. The crack itself was a hand-crack, quite uniform in width, and I knew that I could probably place only one friend over the next 20 meters of climbing. I had taped my hands in preparation for this pitch, and had also slung my friends on the left side of my harness as my right side would be wedged in the corner. Once I got into the corner, the hand jams felt quite secure. With feet jamming in the crack as well, I moved up several meters and placed a friend. From that point, I had to climb without further pro for about 12 meters to where a tree was growing out of the crack. I continued up and the jams felt very secure. Both Ian and I commented on how our feet hurt, but we ignored it because the pain meant we were getting good footjams. Once at the tree, I threw my arm over it, and it seemed as if I was hanging from this tree out over a terrible void. I quickly tied off the tree and clipped in. Hereafter, the angle eased off and the crack moved up easily to a larger tree sitting in an alcove on the face.
Ian followed and joined me. Here we relaxed. A narrow ledge on the face to the left provided a good place to pose for photos, so we took out the camera and took some fun shots. We were eating a bit of food when we heard, clear as a bell, a flute being played on the ridge of an adjacent mountain. The melody was beautiful and skillfully played. The sound reverberated and echoed up the rocky faces and chimneys to reach us at our hidden alcove, high up the face of Insubong. After a few minutes, strains of opera sung by a strong tenor voice could be heard. The wind also whispered and occasionally gusted across our lofty perch. You could hear the wind before you felt it; a great whooshing sound coming from below, above, and all around, very ominously. Then the gust hit, but it was never as bad as anticipated.
The next pitch was 5.6 and started out as an off-width crack. I placed a couple of nuts in outwardly flared cracks along the way. The tapered sides of the nuts proved very effective in these placements. Higher up, the crack widened into a chimney and the angle eased so that there were some good stances. I placed a friend in a short groove in the face, and then looked for the rib across which I had to traverse to some trees on the left. One options was below me a couple meters, a series of ripples that from far away looked like a zipper going across the face. Just beside me, a horizontal crack also ran across the face. The crack looked OK, so sticking my toes into it, I shuffled over to the trees and found one to belay from. Ian was out of sight now and we called back and forth to each other as he climbed. Finally I saw his hat appear around the corner and he came across.
We were ecstatic. The most difficult pitches were behind us. From here, it was supposedly a 40 meter 5.4 pitch to the next belay, and then scrambling to the top. Ian took this lead. I was ready for a break. At 5.4, it should have been easy, but it was more than 40 meters. In fact it was more than 50 meters and I had to climb up through the trees as Ian led. He had slung two trees for pro and I cleaned these as he climbed. He asked how much rope he had, and I answered that there was about 10 meters. This was soon gone and I asked Ian if he could set up a belay. He needed a bit more rope, so I climbed up to a nut he had placed about 5 meters above the last tree. This allowed him to reach two old rings bolts and set up a belay. Again, it was a hanging belay, unlike the ones at the trees, and he looked very anxious when I reached him.
I followed through, going up along a little "wall" about a meter high which curved around to the left. Using this for underclings, I crossed over to a tree and brought Ian over from his exposed location. This should have been the top. What we saw were rocky slabs and chimneys arching upwards and some shrubs and stunted trees climbing to a ridge to the left. This looked like the way to go, so I stepped across a bulge in the rock which had a very convenient "dish" right in the middle of it that made a great foothold. In the trees, I wound my way steeply upward through the branches. In some places, it appeared as if others had been this way, but I wasn't sure. I crept higher and it seemed this would end up on top. I considered tying off a tree and bringing Ian up, but just then, I looked up and saw the light getting brighter near the top, and there seemed to be a path above. I called down to see how much rope was left and Ian answered about 15 meters. I wanted to get to the top badly, to break through onto the rounded summit capped with a big boulder. I moved up to a twisted pine tree and then, suddenly, I was on top. I let out a victory shout and set up a belay at the twisted pine. Ian followed through the brush. We were both on top and tentatively walked around on the summit. A variety of flowering plants on the top and on the hills around us made the scenery very memorable. A little squirrel darted around among some rocks at the top, and I was amazed to see it up there. We took some photos, including one with the Mars Bars that Iain Williams had sent with us, and then celebrated properly by eating them.
It was time to get down. On the other side of the mountain, the rock slopes down to the left, then down to the right to a large ledge from which you can rappel. Ian kept me on a hip belay as I scouted out the way down, and finding it easy, I told him to follow. A few very large rap anchors were set into the rock here. I chose one that was easy to get to and looked like the one I had rapped off before, when I had come to Insubong in 1994. Tying the ropes together, we made two long rappels, transferring to another rap anchor halfway down. It felt good to stand on solid ground.
Walking back, we joked about the after-affects of our huge adrenaline rush. Our feet hurt in our tight boots as we walked down the bouldery trail. Towards the bottom of the big slab, we met some Japanese climbers and talked with them a bit. Our hiking boots and the gear we had left behind was still where we left it. Walking back down the path, we felt as if we were walking on clouds, even though we carried heavy packs.
After climbing Insubong and getting back down again, Ian stated that he was finished with "big wall" climbing. He definitely did not want to try this game again. I agreed that we should be satisfied with our accomplishment and spend the next couple of days in Seoul. Anyway, we had been invited to a barbecue at my friend's place on Saturday. All things considered, it wouldn't have been a good idea for us to try another route. Ian was finished, and his sunburnt hands were painfully sore. We had struggled on one of the easier routes, and it was questionable if we could have conquered another. We met a couple foreigners on the way out who had been climbing all week. We could have climbed with them, and I though of going back to do so, but decided against it.
For the next two days we both felt very tired. We did some sightseeing but I sensed Ian was ready to go home. We enjoyed the barbecue Saturday night and talking to other friends. Mainly, we'd had only each other for company for a week, so we enjoyed meeting some other friends. The next day we flew out and had a very uneventful return trip. With the cabin pressurized to 5000ft my blocked sinuses almost exploded, however, giving me a terrific headache. I still wasn't over my cold. We looked at the Action Asia magazine with the article on Insubong, gazing proudly at that fantastic photo of the huge east face of Insubong. Compared to anything we had done in Japan, this was enormous. We felt very proud to have accomplished what we did and will always remember it as a significant victory not only over a mountain but over our own emotions and limitations.
If you go to Insubong, you'll find the Korean climbers very friendly. Chances are you can hook up with them and climb, like I did on my first trip to Insubong in 94. I went alone, and partnered up with Korean climbers who I met at the mountain. But beware that they have a very casual attitude - they are fearless. They literally walk up the Big Slab with the rope coiled over their shoulders, completely oblivious to the height and exposure. They lead difficult routes on very thin and spaced out protection, and sometimes belay a follower with just the rope running through a carabiner (a "Russian Belay"). The Koreans I have climbed with at Insubong, though, were fine climbers and did not take unnecessary risks. Keep your wits about you and enjoy the climbing.
I would like to dedicate this story to "O.E.G", the Original Elegance Gentleman. "O-wi-ji" was a great Korean climber who put up many of the hardest routes on Insubong and guided parties of Japanese climbers on Insubong. I had the privilege of climbing with Owiji when I first went to Insubong in 94 and he and his climbing partners invited me to rope up with them on a fantastic climb up the awesome Bow Route (5.10). One of his partners, J.K, spoke fluent English, and I was able to converse with Owiji in Japanese. It was simply a brilliant climb, and I was deeply impressed with Owiji's climbing ability and personality. Very sadly, in the summer of 96, while we were in Switzerland on the Matterhorn, I learned from a group of Korean climbers that Owiji had just died on the Eiger. Having climbed the Eiger Nordwand, that monarch of all north faces, he fell when a piton came loose on a rappel down the descent ridge. I'm sorry you are gone, Owiji. Thank you. We will remember you.