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69 SpeechleSS at the Summit getting there c Jirisan is a massive park, spanning three provinces with countless trailheads. For the course mentioned here (heading west from Daewonsa Temple), get to Jinju then take one of the hourly buses for Daewonsa where the Yupyeong course begins. Camping is prohibited in the park, so for multi-day treks you’ll need to book a shelter online at the Korea National Park Service website (english.knps.or.kr). Also, there are absolutely no facilities once on the trail other than the shelters — bringing in your own food and gear is essential. Come prepared, leave humbled. Back on the ridge in the dark, it was getting sticky, and daydreaming wasn’t helping me get through this last stretch. I needed focus. Looking around, I felt like my appreciation for this mountain had all but evaporated under a guise of extreme discomfort, both physically and mentally. But with every burning step I took I knew it was a race, not only against my swirling emotions, but against the clock as well. Using my rudimentary Korean — and the ranger’s even more basic English — I’d gathered the hike up from Chibatmok Shelter would take around three hours. Dawn would break at 5:30, so leaving at 2:30 seemed appropriate, but with no watch other than my mobile in my pack, I had to keep on. With every metal stair and every boulder, every misstep, the an- ticipation was building. Like that feeling you get when you leave for the airport or reunite with old friends: half nerves, half excitement. And so, just after 5 a.m., I reached the peak. The wind was relentless. The stars were plentiful. (Did you know Korea had stars?) I was the first person to reach the peak that day, and for a few short, fleet- ing moments I was completely alone with my friend Korea. There wasn’t much said — I could barely catch my breath — but I stopped being afraid and was just content. As I sat down to recuperate, I was treat- ed to one of the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen. Looking down on the horizon, I was taller than the sun, and I felt like it too. I’d never really believed in the curative powers of physical exertion, but on that morning, despite my broken body, I felt refreshed and light. That sunrise was a thank you, a token of appreciation for having taken the time to seek out a long-lost friend. It was the start of something new, something I’d been missing. And in the end it was I who was thankful.