And on the seventh day, Andy decreed a day of rest. And so he did rest, laundry, submarines, waterfalls and souvenir shops notwithstanding. Okay, yeah, I said I'd take it easy today, but everything I've done has been within a mile or so of my hotel, okay? I consider that effortless.
First on the docket: sleep in. This I did, until about 8:30, half an hour later than usual. (My body doesn't take a hint. I tried going to the bathroom, swigging some water, closing the shades, every trick I knew, but I couldn't get back to sleep.) Anyway, recognizing defeat, I got up and asked Kevin, the Hiking Inn's proprietor, where the laundry was. He told me to bring it down and pile it by the office door and his wife would do it. Trying to exude an aura of extreme gratefulness, I did so. Kevin said it'd be ready in the afternoon. That little bit of housekeeping now taken care of (how easy!), I was now left to my own devices. I figured since I didn't have time to take the submarine tour up in Seongsan the other day, I'd do it today, especially since there was another submarine company just down the road at Seogwipo Harbor. Seogwipo Submarine is its imaginative name. (The Korean word for "submarine" is jamsuham, in case you're interested.) For 45,000 won you can get a 40-minute ride around coral formations and enough gaily-hued fish to choke a whale. I strolled down to the docks, then turned around a caught a cab back to my hotel. I'd left my bank book in a pocket of my new galot jacket. Not that I don't trust Kevin, but living near Los Angeles for seven years has bred in me an innate suspiciousness. Then I strolled back down to the docks again, entered the crowded waiting room and purchased a ticket.
In ten minutes (well, it's good I had to go back for something after all; it reduced the waiting time) we were boarding a launch for the submarine station. As if riding a submarine wasn't cool enough, we didn't do nearly anything so pedestrian as actually board the submarine at the harbor. The sub was docked at Mundo Island, about a half a kilometer offshore. We had to take a twelve-ton launch out of the bay and to the floating boarding barge moored just off Mundo's sheer, rocky coast.
As we pulled up, the submarine, about thirty feet long and painted white, emerged dramatically from the depths, throwing a gout of water into the air like a breaching whale. Oohs and aahs abounded.
Within fifteen minutes, passengers from the launch had been transferred from the sub (and vice-versa; the previous run had to take the launch back to the harbor); we'd all had our obligatory, individual photo op in front of the sub (the Jiah by name); and we'd descended a ladder down the narrow hatch and taken our seats on the hardened rubber benches in the cabin.
It was wild in there, nothing but huge glass portholes running down either side of the compartment, giving crystal-clear views of the rolling green waters outside.
In another moment we were descending. For the first phase of the ride (viewing the shallow-water fish that flock throughout these waters), all of us on the starboard side had to shift down to even smaller rubberized seats, while those folks on the port side rose to take their places the benches we'd vacated. This was so everybody could see out the starboard portholes.
Then the show began. Divers from a small ship nearby (itself monitoring our progress and ready to aid in case of emergency) swam by our portholes, within touching distance, it seemed. They were surreptitiously sprinkling fish food into the water, and thereby enticing a whole gang of the promised brightly-colored fish to swim after them...right by our portholes.
The result was a veritable icthyoid rainbow, a whole parade of tiny fish flocking in droves past the portholes, wowing us passengers. As they passed, a crewman aboard the sub went up and down to each porthole and took pictures of each of us. Prints would later be made available after we'd landed back at the harbor. It was a pretty neat sight, unlike anything I'd ever seen before at sea or an aquarium.
All too soon the fishfest was over, and the Jiah descended deeper into the green, murky depths. It was a pity it was so murky. The first I saw of the shipwreck was when the rust- and barnacle-encrusted bow loomed up out of the silt like the snout of some shovel-nosed leviathan.
It was a small craft, probably some fishing boat (or perhaps just some junker sunk by the Seogwipo Submarine Company for the effect)...but still, it was an impressive and sobering moment, this rusted hulk sitting on the bottom of the sea, picked at by fish, lost and forgotten. Even if that spectacle was only one-millionth the power that the sight of the Titanic must've been to the crew of the submersible team that discovered it, it was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed. I strongly recommend the ride...the shipwreck alone is worth the price of admission.
But the ride wasn't over. After sliding silently and somberly by this decaying remnant, the Jiah came to rest up against a rock formation covered in coral and seaweed. Leafy fronds and lacy growths waved gently in the current, a dramatic sight in itself, but even more so when they hit the orange lights and the whole scene was lit from below with a red-gold glow.
The sub moved itself slowly across the surface of this rock face, making love to it, so close that we could easily have reached out and grasped what we saw, had there not been thick glass in between. It was the final win of the hat trick in that short undersea journey. I really envied the submarine drivers in their job.
And so we emerged from the depths. I watched the sub break the surface with the aid of a small television monitor in the cabin, connected to a camera overlooking the top deck.
We transferred to the launch once again and disembarked at the harbor.
Our free publicity shots (taken in front of the sub as we'd boarded) were waiting for us, and for a small fee (4,000 for card size, 8,000 for 8.5" x 11" prints) we could pick up the photos taken inside the sub as well. I did this...one can never have too many mementos of a submarine ride.
It was a subtle thing. It didn't seem so amazing at the time, but then again, my mind was in a million places at once today. It's my last day and tomorrow I'm checking out, going up to Jeju City and catching the ferry for Mokpo in Jeollanam-do. After the fact, however, the thrill of the experience and the absolute beauty of the spectacle got to work on my imagination. I'll sum all of it up in one word: Wow.
There remains little to tell. I revisited Cheonjiyeon Pokpo, now far more beautiful in the light of day than it had been when I'd arrived in the overcast, as expected.
Then I picked up some gifts for my friends back in Gohyeon (again, I won't say what, in case they're reading this). I came back here, picked up my laundry, and have just been relaxing during the heat of the day (which has remained clear despite predictions to the contrary). I watched Under Siege 2: Dark Territory...one of the better Steven Seagal movies, but that's not saying much. When it cools down a little in the late afternoon I plan on going out again, seeking out a damn good dinner (maybe heukdwaeji bulgogi again) and some more gifts. Then I'll return here, pack up, grab a good night's sleep, and be raring for the road again come Monday morning. Signing off...
In ten minutes (well, it's good I had to go back for something after all; it reduced the waiting time) we were boarding a launch for the submarine station. As if riding a submarine wasn't cool enough, we didn't do nearly anything so pedestrian as actually board the submarine at the harbor. The sub was docked at Mundo Island, about a half a kilometer offshore. We had to take a twelve-ton launch out of the bay and to the floating boarding barge moored just off Mundo's sheer, rocky coast.
As we pulled up, the submarine, about thirty feet long and painted white, emerged dramatically from the depths, throwing a gout of water into the air like a breaching whale. Oohs and aahs abounded.
Within fifteen minutes, passengers from the launch had been transferred from the sub (and vice-versa; the previous run had to take the launch back to the harbor); we'd all had our obligatory, individual photo op in front of the sub (the Jiah by name); and we'd descended a ladder down the narrow hatch and taken our seats on the hardened rubber benches in the cabin.
It was wild in there, nothing but huge glass portholes running down either side of the compartment, giving crystal-clear views of the rolling green waters outside.
In another moment we were descending. For the first phase of the ride (viewing the shallow-water fish that flock throughout these waters), all of us on the starboard side had to shift down to even smaller rubberized seats, while those folks on the port side rose to take their places the benches we'd vacated. This was so everybody could see out the starboard portholes.
Then the show began. Divers from a small ship nearby (itself monitoring our progress and ready to aid in case of emergency) swam by our portholes, within touching distance, it seemed. They were surreptitiously sprinkling fish food into the water, and thereby enticing a whole gang of the promised brightly-colored fish to swim after them...right by our portholes.
The result was a veritable icthyoid rainbow, a whole parade of tiny fish flocking in droves past the portholes, wowing us passengers. As they passed, a crewman aboard the sub went up and down to each porthole and took pictures of each of us. Prints would later be made available after we'd landed back at the harbor. It was a pretty neat sight, unlike anything I'd ever seen before at sea or an aquarium.
All too soon the fishfest was over, and the Jiah descended deeper into the green, murky depths. It was a pity it was so murky. The first I saw of the shipwreck was when the rust- and barnacle-encrusted bow loomed up out of the silt like the snout of some shovel-nosed leviathan.
It was a small craft, probably some fishing boat (or perhaps just some junker sunk by the Seogwipo Submarine Company for the effect)...but still, it was an impressive and sobering moment, this rusted hulk sitting on the bottom of the sea, picked at by fish, lost and forgotten. Even if that spectacle was only one-millionth the power that the sight of the Titanic must've been to the crew of the submersible team that discovered it, it was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed. I strongly recommend the ride...the shipwreck alone is worth the price of admission.
But the ride wasn't over. After sliding silently and somberly by this decaying remnant, the Jiah came to rest up against a rock formation covered in coral and seaweed. Leafy fronds and lacy growths waved gently in the current, a dramatic sight in itself, but even more so when they hit the orange lights and the whole scene was lit from below with a red-gold glow.
The sub moved itself slowly across the surface of this rock face, making love to it, so close that we could easily have reached out and grasped what we saw, had there not been thick glass in between. It was the final win of the hat trick in that short undersea journey. I really envied the submarine drivers in their job.
And so we emerged from the depths. I watched the sub break the surface with the aid of a small television monitor in the cabin, connected to a camera overlooking the top deck.
We transferred to the launch once again and disembarked at the harbor.
Our free publicity shots (taken in front of the sub as we'd boarded) were waiting for us, and for a small fee (4,000 for card size, 8,000 for 8.5" x 11" prints) we could pick up the photos taken inside the sub as well. I did this...one can never have too many mementos of a submarine ride.
It was a subtle thing. It didn't seem so amazing at the time, but then again, my mind was in a million places at once today. It's my last day and tomorrow I'm checking out, going up to Jeju City and catching the ferry for Mokpo in Jeollanam-do. After the fact, however, the thrill of the experience and the absolute beauty of the spectacle got to work on my imagination. I'll sum all of it up in one word: Wow.
There remains little to tell. I revisited Cheonjiyeon Pokpo, now far more beautiful in the light of day than it had been when I'd arrived in the overcast, as expected.
Then I picked up some gifts for my friends back in Gohyeon (again, I won't say what, in case they're reading this). I came back here, picked up my laundry, and have just been relaxing during the heat of the day (which has remained clear despite predictions to the contrary). I watched Under Siege 2: Dark Territory...one of the better Steven Seagal movies, but that's not saying much. When it cools down a little in the late afternoon I plan on going out again, seeking out a damn good dinner (maybe heukdwaeji bulgogi again) and some more gifts. Then I'll return here, pack up, grab a good night's sleep, and be raring for the road again come Monday morning. Signing off...
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