Running with Scissors

Parental Warning: the following blog entry contains scenes of foolishness and reckless endangerment of life. Proceed at your own discretion.

Since we arrived in Korea we've witnessed three typhoons. Of course, the first two barely qualified as such by the time they hit the peninsula, but the third and latest typhoon (Typhoon Shanshan) was of significant strength to warrant both our curiosity and a blog entry.

When we left the english camp on Sunday afternoon and drove back along the coast on the way to Bangoejin (our neighborhood), we saw the churning surf and wind-ravaged beaches and knew we needed to see more...and feel more outside of the safety and relative calm of a minivan full of 10 children. So as soon as we got home, we donned our rain gear and ventured out toward the rocky ocean outcropping just a 20 minute walk from our place.

(Jujeon Beach on the drive back from english camp.)

Although we dressed warmly, we soon realised that it wouldn't do us much good as the driving rain quickly drenched our pants and seeped into our shoes. In fact, the whole city seemed soaked to the bone, as water gushed from every conceivable hole and down every slope.

(The picture doesn't do it justice, but it was like someone had left a fire hose on at the top of this small hill. Walking through the resulting river was what first soaked our shoes.)

Like proud Canadians (or as crazy waygooks - however you look at it), we sallied forth despite our growing discomfort, and headed for the pine forest next to Ilsan beach (known as Ilsan beachee to the locals). As we neared the coastline, our confidence began to falter as the winds whipped into a never-ceasing frenzy, and adding stinging rain to our list of complaints. Shayne started to have serious doubts - mainly due to the failure of his miraculous gortex "water-proof" shoes - but after a bit of coaxing and a few bribes, we were back on our way.

The last time we ventured into the pine forest, we were surrounded by hundreds of other people come to visit the seafood market or hike through the trails. This time, however, there was just us. If we hadn't felt like we'd just taken a bath in our clothes, it might have been a bit romantic....and the feeling that we might be walking willingly to our deaths didn't help matters.

When we reached the viewpoint at the end of the main trail, the view was breathtaking. The wind was the strongest I've ever felt - like being in a wind tunnel - whipping both rain and salt spray sideways towards shore, and it tossed the sea crashing into the rocks. To put it in even more context, even though Shayne's 210 pounds, he had trouble walking in a straight line (and he wasn't even drunk this time).

(None of our pictures were able to properly capture the violence of the sea, but this gives you a bit of an idea.)

At first we took shelter in a gazebo near the trees, but we gained some courage (or stupidity, whatever) and like soldiers running for cover, we headed out towards the look-out point up on the rocks.

(Shayne always gets a lot of grief for his trademark point in photos, but he still managed to pull it off in hurricane strength winds.)

Up on the look-out, we were hoping to get some close-up views of the waves through the holes in the brick wall. The wind was so strong, though, that it was impossible to look into it for more than half a second.

(You're just going to have to imagine 100 mph winds whipping across the picture from right to left. We would have photoshopped them in, but we thought that was tacky.)

(A picture of the rocks from closer up. Well worth the trek.)

Well, we survived our trip out into the typhoon, no matter how foolhardy, and even though we got completely drenched we didn't regret a minute of it. Even if the rest of our lives end up being really boring we will always be able to tell people that we survived being on the beach during a typhoon. I've always loved watching the sea being rocked by a storm, and Shayne's never really had the chance to do so before, as he's been landlocked for most of his life. I wouldn't recommend it for everyone, but there really is no other feeling like witnessing nature at its most powerful.

And to our parents, who are probably shaking their heads that we'd do something so dangerous, we can say only this in our defense: At least we weren't the crazy old man fishing down on the rocks during the storm. Yes, fishing. Now we don't look so silly anymore.

Until next time,
Jo