Eastern Jeju
The eastern half of Jeju is wonderfully unspoilt – the coast is dotted with unhurried fishing villages, while inland you can see evidence of Jeju’s turbulent creation in the form of lava tubes and volcanic craters. Buses to the region leave Jeju City with merciful swiftness, passing between the sea and lush green fields, the latter bordered by stacks of batdam. Seongsan, on the island’s eastern tip, is the most attractive of Jeju’s many small villages, crowned by the majestic caldera of Ilchulbong.
Just offshore is Udo, a bucolic island whose sedentary pace tempts many a visitor to hole up for a few days. A cluster of natural attractions can be found south of the port village of Gimnyeong, most notably Manjanggul, which are some of the world’s longest underground lava tubes. Further south again, Route 97 heads southeast from Jeju City across the island’s interior, running past Sangumburi, a large, forested volcanic crater, and two rewarding folk villages: one a working community with a patchwork of traditional thatch-roofed houses, the other an open-air museum which – though devoid of inhabitants – provides a little more instruction on traditional Jeju life.
Manjanggul
A short way east of Jeju City, a group of natural attractions provide an enjoyable day-trip. Foremost among them is Manjanggul (만장굴), a long underground cave formed by pyroclastic flows. Underwater eruptions millions of years ago caused channels of surface lava to crust over or burrow into the soft ground, resulting in subterranean tunnels of flowing lava. Once the flow finally stopped, these so-called “lava tubes” remained. Stretching for at least 9km beneath the fields and forests south of the small port of Gimnyeong, Manjanggul is one of the longest such systems in the world, though only 1km or so is open to the public. This dingy and damp “tube” contains a number of hardened, lava features including balls, bridges and an 8m-high pillar at the end of the course.
Route 97
With a volcanic crater to see and two folk villages to explore, rural Route 97 – also known as the East Tourist Road – is a delightful way to cut through Jeju’s interior. All three attractions can be visited on a day-trip from Jeju City, or as part of a journey between the capital and Seogwipo on the south coast, though it pays to start reasonably early.
Sangumburi
Heading south from Jeju City on Route 97, the first place worth stopping is Sangumburi (산굼부리), one of Jeju’s many volcanic craters; possibly its most impressive, certainly its most accessible, though currently the only one you have to pay to visit. Hole lovers should note that this particular type is known as a Marr crater, as it was produced by an explosion in a generally flat area. One can only imagine how big an explosion it must have been – the crater, 2km in circumference and 132m deep, is larger than Hallasan’s. A short climb to the top affords sweeping views of some very unspoilt Jejanese terrain; peaks rise in all directions, with Hallasan 20km to the southwest, though not always visible. The two obvious temptations are to walk into or around the rim, but you must refrain from doing so in order to protect the crater’s wildlife – deer and badgers are among the species that live in Sangumburi. Consequently there’s not an awful lot to do here, though there’s a small art gallery on site.
Seong-eup Folk Village
A twenty-minute bus ride south of Sangumburi brings you to dusty Seong-eup Folk Village (성읍 민속 마을), a functioning community living in traditional Jeju-style housing, where you’re free to wander among the thatch-roofed houses at will; the residents, given financial assistance by the government, are long used to curious visitors nosing around their yards. Here you’ll see life carrying on as if nothing had changed in decades – farmers going about their business and children playing while crops sway in the breeze. Most visitors spend a couple of pleasant hours here, and if you’re lucky you’ll run into one of the few English-speaking villagers, who act as guides.
Jeju Folk Village and around
Route 97 buses terminate near the coast at the Jeju Folk Village (제주 민속 마을). This coastal clutch of traditional Jeju buildings may be artificial, but provides an excellent complement to the Seong-eup village to its north. Information boards explain the layout and structures of the buildings, as well as telling you what the townsfolk used to get up to before selling tea and baggy orange pants to tourists. The differences between dwellings on different parts of the island are subtle but interesting – the island’s southerners, for example, entwined ropes outside their door with red peppers if a boy had been born into their house.
Seongsan
You’re unlikely to be disappointed by SEONGSAN (성산), an endearing rural town with one very apparent tourist draw looming over it: Ilchulbong (일출봉), or “Sunrise Peak”, is so named as it’s the first place on the island to be lit up by the orange fires of dawn. The town can easily be visited as a day-trip from Jeju City but many visitors choose to spend a night here, beating the sun out of bed to clamber up the graceful, green slope to the rim of Ilchulbong’s crown-shaped caldera. It’s an especially popular place for Koreans to ring in the New Year – a small festival celebrates the changing of the digits. From the town it’s a twenty-minute or so walk to the summit; a steep set of steps leads up to a 182m-high viewing platform at the top, and although the island’s fickle weather and morning mists usually conspire to block the actual emergence of the sun from the sea, it’s a splendid spot nonetheless. Powerful bulbs from local squid boats dot the nearby waters; as the morning light takes over, the caldera below reveals itself as beautifully verdant, its far side plunging sheer into the sea – unfortunately, it’s not possible to hike around the rim. If you turn to face west, Seongsan is visible below, and the topography of the surrounding area – hard to judge from ground level – reveals itself.
Besides the conquest of Ilchulbong, there’s little to do in Seongsan bar strolling around the neighbouring fields and tucking into a fish supper, though the waters off the coast do offer some fantastic diving opportunities. South of town is Sinyang Beach, where the water depth and incessant wind make it a good place to windsurf; equipment is available to rent.
Udo
Visible from Ilchulbong is UDO (우도), a rural speck of land whose stacked-stone walls and rich grassy hills give it the air of a Scottish isle transported to warmer climes. Occasionally, the nomenclature of Korea’s various peaks and stony bits reaches near-Dadaist extremes; “Cow Island” is one of the best examples, its contours apparently resembling the shape of resting cattle. This sparsely populated dollop of land is a wonderful place to hole up for a few days, and one of the best places to spot two of Jeju’s big draws – the stone walls (밭담; batdam) that line the island’s fields and narrow roads, and the haenyeo, female divers long famed for their endurance.
Other than these – and the diving grannies are almost impossible to spot these days – there are very few tourist sights on Udo. Those that do exist can be accessed on the tour buses that meet the ferries. Usually under the direction of charismatic local drivers, they first stop at a black-sand beach for half an hour or so, which allows just enough time to scamper up the hill to the lighthouse for amazing views that show just how rural Udo really is. The buses stop at a small natural history museum – whose second floor is home to some interesting haenyeo paraphernalia – and continue past Sanhosa beach before returning to the ferry terminal.
Grandfathers of rock
What is it with Pacific islands and statues? The moai of Easter Island are the most famous, but similar relics have been found on Fiji, Tahiti, Hawaii and Okinawa, among other places. Jeju’s own version is the dolhareubang, or “stone grandfather”. Commonly abbreviated to hareubang (하르방), they can be found all over Korea – nowadays usually outside fish restaurants wishing to drum up custom. Bulgy-eyed and often cheery, they differ from their Polynesian counterparts by being quite expressive. Their hands rest on their tummies as if full of food; those with left above right are said to be military, as opposed to the more scholarly right-above-left brigade.
Like the moai, the origin and purpose of the statues remain shrouded in mystery, though it seems likely that they were placed at village entrances as a means of protection. Another theory, and one supported by their extremely phallic appearance, is that they served as sources of fertility – today, miniature versions are sold to women who are having trouble getting pregnant, as well as tourists wanting a souvenir of their trip to Jeju.
Today, only a few dozen authentichareubang remain; the most accessible can be found in Jeju City, at the entrance to the Folklore and Natural History Museum, and outside Samseonghyeol.
Hallasan National Park
Arriving by ferry on a clear day, you can see the whole of Jeju tapering slowly to Mount Halla, known locally as HALLASAN (한라산), a dormant volcano at the centre of the island, and Korea’s highest point at 1950m. Blanketed with pink azalea in the spring, and snow in the winter, the centre of the island has long been a national park, with four well-trodden hikes heading to Hallasan’s crater, a grassy bowl pocked with grey volcanic rocks, and home to a couple of small lakes. As long as the weather cooperates, a climb up Hallasan is one of the main goals for adventurous visitors from the mainland. The four main routes, starting from the north and heading clockwise, are Gwanamsa, Seongpanak, Yeongsil and Eorimok.
Jeju City
JEJU CITY (jeju-shi; 제주시) is the provincial capital and home to more than half of its population. Markedly relaxed and low-rise for a Korean city, and loomed over by the extinct volcanic cone of Hallasan, it has a few sights of its own to explore, though palm trees, beaches, tectonic peaks and rocky crags are just a bus-ride away, thus making it a convenient base for the vast majority of the island’s visitors.
Jeju City was, according to local folklore, the place where the island’s progenitors sprung out of the ground (you can still see the holes at Samseonghyeol), and while there are few concrete details of the city’s history up until Joseon times, the traditional buildings of Mokgwanaji, a governmental office located near the present centre of the city, shows that it has long been a seat of regional power. Other interesting sights include Yongduam (“Dragon Head Rock”), a basalt formation rising from the often fierce sea, and Jeju Hyanggyo, a Confucian academy. There are also a couple of vaguely interesting museums, best reserved as shelter on one of Jeju’s many rainy days. South of the centre along the Mysterious Road, where objects appear to roll uphill, is the entertainingly racy Love Land.
Jeju’s diving grannies
It may be hard to believe in a place that once was, and in many ways still is, the most Confucian country on earth, but for a time areas of Jeju had matriarchal social systems. This role reversal is said to have begun in the nineteenth century as a form of tax evasion, when male divers found a loophole in the law that exempted them from tax if their wives did the work. So were born the haenyeo (해녀), literally “sea women”; while their husbands cared for the kids and did the shopping, the females often became the breadwinners, diving without breathing apparatus for minutes at a time in search of shellfish and sea urchins. With women traditionally seen as inferior, this curious emancipation offended the country’s leaders, who sent delegates from Seoul in an attempt to ban the practice. It didn’t help matters that the haenyeo performed their duties clad only in loose white cotton, and it was made illegal for men to lay eyes on them as they worked.
Today, the haenyeo are one of Jeju’s most famous sights. Folk songs have been written about them, their statues dot the shores, and one can buy postcards, mugs and plates decorated with dripping sea sirens rising from the sea. This romantic vision, however, is not entirely current; the old costumes have now given way to black wetsuits, and the haenyeo have grown older: even tougher than your average ajumma, many have continued to dive into their 70s. Modern life is depleting their numbers – there are easier ways to make money now, and few families are willing to encourage their daughters into what is still a dangerous profession. The figures peaked in the 1950s at around thirty thousand, but at the last count there were just a few hundred practising divers, the majority aged over 50. Before long, the tradition may well become one of Jeju’s hard-to-believe myths.