Odds and (Dead) Ends: Embracing Lowered Expectations

By Isaiah Winters

Recent high gas prices and a busy work schedule have greatly diminished the steady dopamine stream I get from regional travel. The ongoing novelty detox has forced me to rummage among my odds and (dead) ends for disparate tales worth weaving into a single article. (Don’t worry – I only phone it in like this about twice a year.) Among the jigsaw clutter, I’ve found a few experiences that, while unworthy of an article individually, work more or less as a whole. So, in a listless embrace of lowered expectations, let’s rifle through some of my better B-sides.

Settling for the West Sea
If Korea’s three seas were its offspring, the West Sea would be the red-headed stepchild. Mud-splattered and prone to bipolar tides, it yields the fewest prospects for a good swim. Contrarily, the East Sea would be the country’s cold, fathomless firstborn, and the south its attention-loving last-born, soaking up as much adoration as sunshine. And yet, despite the West Sea’s inability to hold down a steady tide and just make peace with the sand, I’ve found at least one angle from which, if you squint your eyes and lean in a little, it redeems itself.

The long, sandy shore along the northwest coast of Imja-do recently stunned me when I discovered that, even at low tide, the beaches had excellent sand as far as the eye could see. Even better, at high tide, I was able to wade chin-deep through clean water just a few dozen meters off shore. There were even some half-decent waves. What’s more, the facilities were brand new and included multiple restrooms with indoor and outdoor showers. Having grown up in California, being able to rinse off on a Korean beach while looking out to sea nearly brought a tear to my eye. It’s the simplest things that get me sometimes. The lifeguards there were still the same spoilsports they always are, but not even their stifling hall-monitorship of nature could kill my vibe once it was time to walk the beach and drink in the sunset. The memory of that long walk under flame-blue skies will remain with me until I die.

Ultimately, when compared to Honam’s average beach, Imja-do’s northwest shore comes in at a strong (but hardly sublime) 7/10. Normally, I’d be reluctant to share this type of nice, uncrowded beach with so many readers, but it’s still nearly a two-hour drive from Gwangju, so the barrier to entry is high. What also inspires me enough to write this much about it is that my in-laws live close by, making it the most convenient beach in all of Honam for me to weekend at. I’m quite chuffed about that. So, what’s the name of this solid West Sea beach? I’ll let you discover that yourselves.

The Beach Valley Boys
Despite my overall preference for open beaches, many valleys across Honam yield surprisingly refreshing swimming opportunities that don’t involve hours of driving, killjoy lifeguards, or layers of sun protection. It’s a worthwhile compromise if you live day-to-day in a city like Gwangju. To my shame, I never considered swimming in mountain streams a viable option until 2019, when a few local friends took me to a great (but crowded) stream near Jiri-san. Then last summer, a foreign friend showed me a few spots closer to home, and from that point, I’ve been thoroughly hooked.

Though swimming in mountain streams has greatly reduced my fuel expenses and driving times, allowing for more regular weekday plunges, there are still some tradeoffs. Rangers can be the wettest of wet blankets if they catch you in the wrong places – though these are often the “rightest” of places – and Korea’s notorious mosquitoes will force a few unsolicited blood donations on you. That said, it’s entirely worth every drop lost. Getting chilled to the bone by cold mountain spring water and then warming up on the short drive home without the need for air conditioning is a luxury in summer.

In the end, though I’d like to write a full article on good mountain streams for swimming, I don’t want to give away some of the better spots shown to me in private, so this sort of article is DOA. By the way, the image I chose for this article isn’t one of those hidden valley spots – it’s instead a high-profile area that few dare swim due to heavy ranger patrols. Look around enough and you’ll find some hidden gems of your own. Happy hunting!

Tourism Infrastructure That Doesn’t Suck
The southwest coast of Korea is home to many artificial tunnels made at the behest of the Imperial Japanese towards the end of WWII. Fearing an allied invasion of then-occupied Korea, the tunnel locations were strategically selected with the local tidal range in mind. According to one placard on Goha-do, the island closest to Mokpo Harbor, these usually U-shaped tunnels were both for “defense of the strategic points in the West Sea and for hiding suicidal special units” in preparation for an allied attack. The most famous example is probably the tunnel system behind Mokpo’s former Japanese consulate, which is extremely well preserved and open to tourism.

My personal favorites, however, are on Goha-do and were the subject of our July 2021 photo essay. Since then, a lot has changed on Goha-do. The island has seen a surge in new tourism infrastructure, mainly in the form of an extremely long coastal deck that runs along the island harborside. Built on pillars embedded under water, one end of the deck finishes at Mokpo Bridge, and the other at my favorite pair of tunnels. Traversing the coastal deck for the first time a few months back, I had mixed feelings. While the deck undoubtedly offers superb views of the harbor and a much-needed historical explanation of the tunnels, selfishly, I felt I’d lost one of my secret spots, which now has many tourists where there were none before.

For old times’ sake, that day I decided to hike down to the tunnels anyway, gawkers be damned. (Seeing their discomfort was nothing short of glorious.) My favorite shot that day was taken from inside one of the tunnels looking out – the view the soldiers would have seen. I’d taken the same shot one year before without any deck hogging the center, so now the contrast shots I have are a nice memento of the past. In the end, the coastal deck is tourism infrastructure that, on balance, is pretty awesome, so I’ve come to embrace it. To see what a typical view from the deck is like, check out this issue’s photo of the month. Like I said, it doesn’t suck!

Photographs by Isaiah Winters.

The Author
Born and raised in Chino, California, Isaiah Winters is a pixel-stained wretch who loves writing about Gwangju and Honam, warts and all. He particularly likes doing unsolicited appraisals of abandoned Korean properties, a remnant of his time working as an appraiser back home. You can find much of his photography on Instagram @d.p.r.kwangju.