WE LEARN a lot about ourselves in extreme situations. I met Peter Jensen-Choi of I Guide Korea at Suyu Station in the early morning for a day of rock climbing. He had called me the day before and assuaged my concern about the weather forecast. We took a taxi to the foot of the mountain. He picked up our gear at a local climbing shop, four rolls of kimbap, and we headed up the trail.
It began to rain.
After a short hike we came to the rock. We geared up in shoes, helmets and harnesses. Peter demonstrated the proper technique for belaying and we went up the approach.
"Watch what I do," he said, and with the precision of an expert, scrambled up the first section, out of sight.
It should be said here that I am 6' 2" and in decent shape, but had never rock climbed, not on an indoor rock wall, and certainly never on a granite rock face in rain and wind.
I was also under dressed for the elements. On the first approach, I came to a wide crack that required me to extend my legs in the splits and vault myself over to the next section. As I worked out the maneuver, the reality of a fall set in and gave me the first genuine feeling of physical fear I have experienced in recent memory.
We were the only two on the mountain that day everyone else gave the weather the respect it deserved and once Peter was up I was on my own. The challenge of the initial ascent and the feeling of relief that came after completing it taught me the value of the sport.
Peter has been rock climbing for more than nine years and knows the mountains here well. He began climbing with the Corean Alpine Club. He has since been on three expeditions in the Himalayas. He takes foreigners on climbs regularly, trying to turn more people onto the sport. When his business takes clients out on the mountains, they observe the strictest safety rules manageable.
But for this climb, my editor asked that Peter take me on something "his parents would not do."
"It's just something that normal people won't do because of the fear factor, the challenge," he said. "It's not just the challenge of getting up something, it's the challenge of learning about a new way of life. I've been climbing for a long time and there's more and more stuff.
"Getting to the top of something, that in itself is satisfying. You come down a mountain after the first time and there's a sense of relief. And you carry it with you."
For the bulk of the approach, we were protected from the wind. It was cold and wet, but I became more comfortable with the equipment and the mountain. Peter advised to not pay mind to the weather. But that was hard to heed when we came to the second to last section.
The approach was a rounded granite face with no distinct hand or footholds, only "dimples" as Peter called them. The centimeter-thick layer of water did not matter to him he was up and out of view in a few deft moves.
Then I had a moment. The wind at that point was blowing hard enough that we had to lean into it, and the water coming down the face reminded me of a stone fountain. I hugged the rock, scratching and crawling to find a way up. The problem I had was that at certain times when rock climbing momentum is necessary, and if you halt your momentum, you fall.
But I lacked the experience, and in the cold and wind the courage, to clamber up the rock. I made three attempts, each time falling back to the starting point before I felt a sense of panic. I was losing body heat, my fingertips were numb, and I was shaking.
I calmed down and gathered myself. Peter hollered down through the wind for me to stay there. Then he brought a rope down and I pulled myself up, again with that strong feeling of relief.
We got up to the top where we were to abseil down. "Stay low," Peter said. We could see the clouds rushing past below us. Peter checked the descent point, I did my knee bends, and the rain poured.
He came back up to tell me we could not go down that way, that we had to go back down the way we came.
"It's going to be a long day," he said. The Korea Herald
Sunday, May 24, 2009


