Daechunbong Revisited

14 November 2006



Bak-dam-sa is a small town at the top of Misyroeng pass, just to the west of Sokcho. It sits at the west entrance of Sorak-san Park, and its entire reason for being is the entrance to the park. While some people actually live here, it is mostly a staging area for hikers heading into the park through the back entrance, avoiding the crowds that fill the easier side of the park at Sorak-dong, or East Sorak.

Bak-dam-sa is for serious hikers. The only trail goes almost eleven kilometers to a five hundred year old temple that clings to the back side of Sorak Mountain like a piece of fruit on the end of a branch.

The trail itself is fairly easy, that is until the last bit, and winds along a river past waterfalls and rocks with stunning cliff views and mountain crags along the entire distance.

We had planned this trip for a while, Karen, Kirsty, Helen, Conner, and I. We had all wanted to hike up to the peak from the back way because Karen, the only one of us who had trekked this trail, had said the views were spectacular.

With the coming of winter here in Korea, the days have gotten much shorter. We knew that we would be spending the night up in the mountains as there would be no way that we could summit and be down the other side before dark fell around 5:30.

Saturday was the big day. We had all loaded our rucksacks with food and water, enough for two days, and had stocked ourselves with many layers of sweatshirts, hats, gloves, and thermals. We knew the mountain wind would cut like shards of glass the higher we got and we expected to encounter ice and snow, winter had defenantly arrived in the mountains.

We got up late, we knew we would only have to walk for about six hours, around eight, and made it to the bus station to grab the nine o’clock bus for Bak-dam-sa, and rode for about an hour.

The way to the village went first north and then west. As we climbed higher into the mountains we weaved and swerved along a very narrow rode through cliffs and crags, along mountain streams. The road went through small towns, almost deserted, and past the usual army bases crammed with tanks and trucks, keeping their silent watch for northern aggression.

When we finally reached Misyroeng Pass around ten we got off the bus and headed into the park. After paying another two thousand won for a quick shuttle bus ride into the first temple we were on our own, in the wild.

We wound our way up a long river valley. Reaching the first temple we stopped and had cinnamon tea and hot roasted potatoes that the monks cooked for the hikers that made their way into this rather secluded valley. After filling our water bottles at as small Buddhist shrine we kept making our way farther and farther into the hills.

As we went up the trail we could see the damage that had been done by the recent heavy winds and rains that had swept the Sokcho area for the past several weeks. The orange bridges that usually litter the park to help hikers on their way had been washed away and temporary bridges made of logs lashed together with ropes had replaced them. Everywhere huge trees had been uprooted and thrown down the river channel sweeping rocks and debris downstream.

I have to hand it to the Korean Park Service at this point. These tireless men and women had obviously laboured for hours in the cold and wind to make the trail passable clearing rocks and trees so that people like us could use the trail.

After walking for about five hours we reached the second temple. Built in the early seventeenth century it has been destroyed and rebuilt many times since. It sits in a beautiful setting, high up on the edge of the mountains. From the trail below you could hear the chanting of the monks long before you came to the temple. Their chanting and knocking on their begging bowls filled the air with sound and spurred us on to our goal.

After sitting for a while in the setting sun we had a few cups of coffee and soaked up the warmth that the orange disk in the sky was dispersing before it settled down for the night. We knew we had to get going to get up to the shelter but we just sat there for a while soaking up the atmosphere.

Finally it was time to go and we headed up the mountains for the last slog to the shelter. Winding our way up a rocky, narrow trail, we looked back on the sun that was starting to settle behind the mountains. Down and down it went, slowly settling and leaving us to scramble up the path in ever decreasing light.

As I finally neared the shelter I could barley see my hand in front of my face but I could hear a flapping, like a sheet in the wind, and I looked up to see, ever so faintly, a crisp Korean flag waving in the wind, finally I had reached the shelter, my home for the night.

After a relatively sleepless night, although the girls told me that I snored my ass off when I did get a couple of hours, we woke with the sun to make our assault on the summit. Kirsty and Helen decided to cut it short and did not go up the mountain with us but Conner, Karen, and I decided to go for broke and bundled up for our climb up the third highest mountain in South Korea.
My God it was cold. Winter in Bemidji is bad enough but up here the wind cut like the proverbial blade, wafting through the four layers of shirts. Luckily I had remembered to bring my good hat and choppers so my hands and head were warm but my face felt frozen as we clambered over the broken trial to a height of 1780 meters.
And that is pretty much it for probably my last big climb of the year. We went down the front, finally getting warmer as we reached the foot of the mountains. We finally left the front entrance of the park at three on the nose, exhausted but happy having done about twenty miles in two days, much of it over huge rocks and up incredibly steep trails. Put it this way, I am writing this on Tuesday and I still cannot go up stairs without pain!

A note about pictures-

1. Looking up one of the many waterfalls that littered the trail on the way to the summit

2. On the way to the summit, the mountains in the distance like folds of paper

3. Coming down the mountain, the moon is still in the sky early Sunday morning

4. The sun sneaking down behind the mountains from the temple

5. Conner, Karen, and myself at the summit

Guy Fawkes

Guy Fawkes

An individual from seventeenth century England who attempted to blow up parliament. Caught before he could load the basement of the building with gunpowder, he was sentenced to die and burned at the stake. Five November is now known as Guy Fawkes Day in the British Isles and celebrated with fireworks, bonfires, and general drunken mayhem.

Sokcho Diary

Because I both work with and hang around several Brits here in Sokcho we deceided that it was only proper that we have a Guy Fawkes party. Kelly and Shawn, by virtue of their new and very large apartment agreed to host, and about twenty of us agreed, in principle, to come down and drink!

The Dongjin Crew, Kirsty, Helen, Kelsey, and I headed down to E-mart to get supplies around six. After getting beer, vodka, and other party favors at our local discount mart we proceeded to run into a bunch of students who pointed out that we had a lot of alcohol and proceeded to ask us what we were going to do with it all, we said the only thing that came to mind, “Well we are going to a party”, it worked!

We then hopped on the number nine bus and rode out to the site of our adventure.

Kelly and Shawn live in a very small town about ten miles outside of Sokcho in a new, very nice building. When we got there there was already about twenty people eating, drinking, and talking and we settled right in.

It was a pretty fun night. The party was potluck so everyone brought something to eat and drink, (I brought homemade vegetable pot pies, Kelsey guacamole, and Helen and Kirsty gingerbread men), and we had a blast until three or so in the morning.

Of course it wouldn’t be a really great party unless the police showed up about the noise as they did around 2:30 to tell us the entire building was complaining about the noise!

We finally left close to three and tried in vain to hail a taxi on the very narrow, deserted road after stumbling and weaving our way down the road for about fifteen minutes we were finally successful and got home close to three thirty at the end of a great night!

Pics-
1. Kelsey and I
2. Oue hostess, Kelly
3. Jason for some reason demonstrating his skiing technique
4. Lee and his girlfriend
5. Kelly and Shawn

Halloween

31 October 206

Surprisingly enough one of the big holidays here in Korea that they have adopted from the west is Halloween. Yes the festival of paganism worldwide has become quite the commercial day here in the land of the morning calm.

Last week Yeon-soo came to us, her loving and devoted staff, for ideas for Halloween. As I have done this sort of thing in Korea before I was all about doing the bobbing for apples thing. Messy I know, and kids need to be prodded a little to do it, but if it works, well, they just love it, anyway that was my suggestion.

Kirsty for some reason wanted to get a Mexican influence in the day and chose to make piñatas, why I don’t know but she spent last week getting all of her classes busy smearing balloons with paper maiche and the like to create about forty of the things.

Karen was big on pin the tale on the cat and she made a freakin’ huge black cat that she put on the wall, ready to be stuck by pin after pin as the kids tried to win some candy.

Finally, Wojtek chose to make masks, a thankless task as it turned out as he was forced to dismember about a million paper plates as the majority of our junior achievers lacked sufficient strength and muscle coordination to cut the eyes out of the plates making blind mans masks instead of masks for the visually able.

Finally, today, the big day arrived. We had spent the previous week forcing our kids, with sticks and threats, to decorate the halls and classrooms for the festivities so the halls and rooms were littered with paper pumpkins, signs, bats, and ghosts to impress the parents who would surely arrive with their young hellions in tow.

With a flourish I cleared my room of desks and chairs, leaving only a small table on which to put my bobbing bowl with a towel and a deck of cards (I do know one magic trick) and, armed with a huge sack of candy, I waited for the little terrors to arrive.

With a roar of noise they came tromping up the stairs, ninety kids already heavily dosed on sugar and looking for more. With a fling and a jostle the first gaggle of them came into my room, saw the bag of candy and the bobbing bowl and looked quizzically at me, wondering what in the hell they would have to do to earn their precious lumps of tooth rotter.

I only had to demonstrate once and the kids were on their own. Pushing and shoving me out of the way they scrambled for the bowl and the apples. Time after time I had to dump the water and change the apples but it probably will have turned out for naught. If just one of these kids were sick, well it wouldn’t surprise me at all if we all wound up with a raving case of typhoid.

All in all the day was pretty fun, as was the warm up to it. We, the teachers, got out of doing some real teaching and got to do some arts and crafts, the kids, well, they did not get much out of the thing but they did get a break from the endless, dreary cycle of learning that is the Korean educational system and got to be kids for a little while.

Pictures-

1. This is my classroom all decked out for the holiday.

2. Three boys going head to head for some quality apple bobbing

3. Ben gets his face painted

4. One of the girls, not mine, grabs an apple

5. Jin-ho, always good for a laugh

A Walk with Wojtek…………….

28.10.06

With no festivals on today, for once, I was required to make my own amusements on a beautiful Saturday in Korea. Wojtek and I had been talking on Friday night about heading for a little walk on Saturday up north, no not that north, just a little way from Sokcho, a little ramble through the countryside if you will, and made plans to meet around 12:30 at Gimpap Click for a quick bite and then head out.

Before the day’s festivities I had to go get a haircut as I was getting a tad bit shaggy so I got up early and headed down to the Headline Barber Shop for a little trim.

My first haircut here in Sokcho was pretty uneventful. I picked out my hairstyle from the book; sort of a Brad Pitt/Edward Norton look, and the lady in black went to work.

The lady in black was the only actual hair stylist in the place. Dressed entirely in black, hence her name, she was tall and thin with, you guessed it, a mane of thick black hair that cascaded like black ice over her shoulder and down her back. On her hip were a veritable holster of scissors, combs, shears, and other assorted implements of her trade. As I sat down in the chair, I knew I was in good hands.

I was literally strapped into the chair by one of the two assistants that stood at the beck and call of my stylist. Around my neck, against the bare skin, a hard plastic color was secured. Over that came a cloth half shirt, and over that, the typical cloak to catch the falling hair. When everything was in place, she started to work.

As the scissors snipped and snapped around my head I looked in the mirror thinking the other two girls in the shop were also stylists who were just not cutting hair at the present time, but served a far more valuable purpose.

As the lady whacked my hair into shreds the roles of the other two women came into play. As the shears neared my ears, the lady in black clicked her fingers and one of the assistants sprang into close proximity to me. Moving quickly to position she proceeded to hold first one ear, then the other in place as the scissors zoomed around them. Now I understood, the women who seemed like stylists were just trainees, or maybe assistants, there to help the chief Shearer in every part of the operation.

After a little while, no more than fifteen minutes, I had my new cut and proceeded to meet Wojtek for lunch.

After a quick stop for sundubu, hot spicy soft tofu stew with pork, clams, and rice, we hopped the number one bus and rode out north.

As the bus speeded down highway seven we looked out at the countryside spinning by and wondered where we would get off to begin our little stroll. A few bus zoomed by but the surrounding countryside seemed to unappealing for us and we waited for our moment.

Finally it came, a small seaside town with a decrepit beach on one side, and across the road little hills, ridges, and a few villages, perfect.

We walked down to a mangy beach first, filled with rubbish and debris from the storms that we have had in Sokcho, it was deserted except for a few fishing boats and old nets that the storms had tossed up along a breakwater. Climbing a small hill we came to a scenic overlook with a pagoda where we stopped and got some pictures before turning inland, towards the rice fields and mountains that really interested us.

We headed across the highway towards a low ridge and pounded down the side, past some old bunkers with firing slits still in place and a Republic of Korea ammunition dump with armed soldiers and extremely stern signs saying keep out and forbidden in Korean, Russian, English, and Chinese for some reason.

After a while we reached a broad plain filled with rice fields and migratory birds that were eating the fallen grain, gleaning, while the farmers moved their small combines up and down the fields, cutting the grain in straight lines and shooting the chaff out into waiting trucks. The air smelled fresh, like things growing with an undercurrent of diesel fuel from the farm machinery that littered the plain.

As we crossed a large river, running swift and clean, straight down from the mountains, we entered a small, very rural village, no stores or busnisses of any kind but filled with friendly people who kept stopping us and asking why two waygooks would be running around their neck of the woods. When we told them that we found their part of Korea sunningly beautiful they nodded thier heads knowingly and wished us a good journey with waves and thank you's for the respcet that we showed their land.

A note about pictures-

1. A waterfall streaming off of Miseyrong Mountain. I did not take this on the walk today but it is a great picture. Thank you to Kelly and Shawn for taking me up there to get this shot.

2. Drying red peppers in a small courtyard.

3. A traditional house, still inhabited in the small village we went through.

4. Drying seaweed next to the beach. Seaweed is loved in Korea, rich in iodine this will be boiled into soup.

5. Garlic drying in the fall sun

Yet Another Festival

Sokcho Diary

21.10.06

When I first came to Sokcho I heard rumors of a fantastic free for all festival in Yang-yang that would take place sometime in late October that involved beer, liquor, singing, dancing, and fish. What was this awesome festival that had every ingredient needed for a good time? I just had to find out.

This week, after I had forgotten all the rumors of the fishing follies that I had heard about, Kirsty came into work with the news, “the salmon festival starts on Saturday!” and I knew my time for hedonistic pleasure had come.

The Yang-yang salmon festival celebrates the king of fish, the Pacific Salmon, on its return to its spawning grounds up the rivers and streams of the east coast of Korea. As we all know, a salmon makes a trip to the sea as a young fish and then, when it is close to death, returns unerringly to the stream of its birth to mate, spawn, and die. When Kirsty came into work on Tuesday with the news of the upcoming festival, I knew that we had to find a way to take part in this awesome spectacle.

We asked our boss, Yeon-so to call and make our arrangements for us, with our incredible lack of Korean skills, we needed a native speaker to smooth the waters for us to enter the event.

The next day, Yeon-so came back with our answer, she had called the organizers and they had said they would be absolutely delighted to have a couple of waygooks to join in the fun. The only catch was that we had to wire twenty thousand won apiece to the Yang-yang chamber of commerce to ensure our place. This was fairly easy and accomplished at the bank the next day. After we had wired our money we got a confirmation email of our registration and all we had to do was wait for the big day to come around.

Saturday dawned cloudy and warm after the rains of Friday and we met down in the lobby of Dongjin to take the bus to the festival at around 1:30. The usual crowd was there, Kelsey, Kirsty, Helen, me, and we would meet some of our other friends there later, Kelly and Shawn.

Now let me explain a little what our twenty thousand won bought Kirsty and I. For that price we bought the chance to wade into a cold river, in the fall, and try to catch, with our hands, one of the salmon that were confined in the fishing area.

The fishing area stretched from one side of the river to the other and was enclosed by green mesh fences on both sides. The river is about one hundred yards wide and the fences went all the way from bank to bank, enclosing an area of about one thousand square meters.

At three forty we gathered at the starting point, forming a long line with our other fishing folk, men, women, small children, grandparents, all dressed in their favorite fishing attire. Some like Kirsty and I in shorts and tee shirts others in full kit, waders, hip boots, the works, all with the desire to snag one of the big salmon.

Four o’clock came, time for the fun. We were the last group of the day, there had already been two other sessions, and we were the last. From our vantage point we could see men throwing salmon from the damned off holding tank on a small branch of the river into the fishing arena.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA

What’s going on with this you may be asking. Well folks, the salmon that we are celebrating today are almost extinct in Korea. You see, thanks to the Republic of Koreas massive environmental disasters that plague every part of the country, including the seemingly unspoiled beauty of Sokcho, there are almost no salmon left that come here naturally, the ones we were going to catch today had been caught in Alaska and shipped alive here to Korea for our fishing enjoyment.

Back to the story………………………..

At four came the whistle and a man with a bullhorn and a flag lead us down to the riverbank, like the proverbial Pied Piper of Hamlin. We walked in a straight, slightly meandering line, unusual for Korea because there was very little jostling and pushing, it was fairly orderly, the real shoving would come later at the river.

We got down to the riverbank and squatted in the mud at the waters edge. The man with the bullhorn addressed the crowd, but since neither Kirsty nor I could understand much of what he was saying, we stared at the river where we could see a few ripples as the fins of the fish broke the surface of the flat water. We just squatted and waited, talking about our strategy.

“Okay”, I said, “I think we should work as a team, lets try to drive the fish towards the fence and trap it there were we can get it.”

“Sounds good”, said Kirsty, “lets works as a team, I will push people out of the way and then we should be alright.”

After the man was done jabbering a bit, it was time for the fun. With a bang on the gong, a shove and jostle, we were off!

The water was shallow, probably only ten inches deep, and as we raced across it we were shocked, we couldn’t see any fish. Then, there they were, streaking through the water at high speed, looking like little missiles, sleek and fat, frightened, angry, wondering what the hell was going on. Then boom, boom we were at the fence.

I trapped a big one, bang up against the fence, reached to grab it, missed, and fell over. Then wham, there was another one, streaking out of the grasp of a Korean, and came towards me like a high speed train. I stuck my foot out and blocked him into the fence, trapped it had nowhere to go. I reached to grab him, got him by the tail, but a quick slip and he was out of my grasp. But what was that, next to my feet, another one, even bigger, about twelve pounds. I dropped to all fours, pretty much fell on him, and I had my prize. A very angry male, flipping and flopping, I cradled him in my arms and went to help Kirsty.

With a big fish in my hands, it was hard to help her, but I tried. I used my feet as she flopped around in the water, trying to hold a fish about the same size as mine, but she dropped it as her hands slipped off the slick skin of the fish. But there, there was another one, tired, worn out, but a big pig of a salmon, she reached down, grabbed it near the tail, and wham bam thank you madam, we had our fish, for us the festival was over.

A note about pictures.

1. Me and my baby

2. Sometimes you get to see that rare delicacy, whale meat. While Korea does not hunt whales activly they do get meat somehow, very expensive, and to be honest, not very good.

3. A little kiss for my new friend.

4. Kirsty and I at the start point

It’s Festival Time

16.10.06

Well kids, its festival time again here in Sokcho. So far this year we have had the Korean music festival, it sucked unless you like k-pop or a Korean rap duo affectionately called the Krappers, the Mushroom Festival, very cool, and now we have the Sorak Festival.

The Sorak Festival has been going on here in Sokcho for the past forty one years, in fact it started just after the Korean war when the park itself had been ravaged by four years of war and destruction and was covered not with verdant greens and pretty trails but covered with the blackened stumps of trees and the stench of the thousands of men, Korean, Chinese, American, and others who had died while struggling in the picturesque park for control of the Korean peninsula.


The main part of the festival happens not where you would think, at the park, but instead right across from my school, at Expo Park, along the lake.

The festival grounds in the summer are vacant lots with a few restaurants around the large saltwater lagoon that the town surrounds with the bridge to nowhere off in the background.

Karen and I headed out around eight when we were done with work to sit outside the Family Mart by Expo Tower and drink beer while we waited for the rest of our posse to show up about ten.

We had a nice wait, sitting outside on white plastic chairs on a pretty, warm, clear, evening, watching the world pass by. We sat drinking cold Cass and O.B. while in front of us the festival spread out in all of its glory.

Directly in front of us was Expo Tower, all lit up for the occasion. The tower itself is about twenty stories tall and towers over the park.

Behind the tower is the stage that will have semi-big names, for Korea, on it this weekend. Currently it sounds like someone is being beaten to death on it, maybe it could be someone singing, but if they are, I think that their record company will be filing for bankruptcy at some time in the near future.

Behind that is the main night market, a pulsating mass of tents and humanity selling all sorts of the things from Inca clothing (?) to a man touting the beneficial affects of putting wedges of cucumber on his forehead.

There is also food at the night market, which we will enjoy later, famous black Jeju pig, slowly roasting on spits over cherry wood, honey and cinnamon pancakes cooked, bam, bam, bam, six at a time in a special machine, hand made by a sweating old man in a Quicksilver shirt, hot dogs, fish, squid, and shrimp, all roasted over charcoal, and many other things.

Around ten, the rest of the crew showed up, Kelsey and Helen from Dari, and Kirsty, from a late class at A.P.

We were having a few more beers when, boom, boom, boom, without warning, the fireworks started. They weren’t very good or spectacular, but we had a great view of them. They shot into the air like mortars and exploded in reds, greens, and blues, then, after just a few minutes, they were over and we headed into the carnival.

We hit the pig palaces, eating with pleasure the juicy pig, over priced at twenty five thousand a plate, but we knew that we were not getting spit roasted pork again any time soon, and sopping up soy sauce with squid pancake, all washed down with shots of soju.

After eating we wandered out to the shooting range, where, wonder of wonders, you could shoot plastic balls at targets and win liquor! I had never seen this type of excitement at a carnival before and I worked hard at winning a bottle of North Korean soju that I shared with my compatriots.

After wondering through a huge tent filled with name brand clothes, brimming with Koreans looking for bargains when there weren’t any to be had we headed through the Banzai tree display.

The trees and flowers on the stands were great. Tiny trees molded and cut to minature size. You could see that some were incredibly old and weathered. Someone had sat and cared for these trees for years, constantly cutting and trimming them to reach the ideal size and shape that their masters desired.

Then there were the flowers. Orchids, Lilies, Morning Glories, all kinds of flowers just sitting in the rapidly chilling air, their colours brilliant with little spots of dew on them as they all vied for the first place ribbon.

Finally, after a few hours, we called it quits and headed back to our seats at the Family Mart to have a few more beers before we began the long walk home.

A note about the pictures

1 and 4. Fireworks in the night air over Yongan Lake.

2. A wonderful flower, either a lilly or an orchid, I am not sure which, just a nice picture.

3. Extolling the virtues of putting cumcumber slices on your head.

4. A nice shot of a Banzai tree.

Journey to the Cave

16.10.06

This weekend was the Sorak festival, a celebration of the beauty of the fall colours of Sorak-san. While it was incredibly pretty, the crowds were horrendous. If Kim Jong Il would have launched his nukes against the park this weekend he probably would have eliminated half the population of Korea at one stroke.

After a fun night carousing with the locals, Karen and I finally headed out to the park about one. We got out of the bus at Sorak town because traffic was backed up almost five kilometers with the massive amount of people streaming into the park.

Our goal today was to hike up to the cave, a trip that I have now made a couple of times but for Karen her first run up to the shrine that sits six hundred meters above the valley for.

While strolling towards the gate we passed a few interesting sites, a Ferrari that was driven by an idiot Korean male who was obviously unable to drive it correctly, shifting gears at the wrong time, riding the clutch and the brake, a Korean woman wearing a shirt that said, “This is My Girlfriend” with an arrow pointing to her (female) friend, hordes of Koreans decked out in matching shirts and packs, outfitted as if for a six month polar expedition, and other assorted lunacies.

After fighting our way through the crowds towards the entrance we finally started our hike, elbowing stubborn Koreans out of the way as they blocked the path by walking five and six abreast. It was like being back on the football field, cutting, blocking, giving the fore arm shiver while all the time having to stop and accelerate through the crowd.

When we finally reached the turn off marking our trail the crowd thinned a little bit and we were finally able to take in the stunning panorama that opened up below us as we climbed higher and higher.

I wont bore you with the details as I recounted my last cave expedition but this one was much easier. Instead of sweating like a pig and struggling for every breath, I merely perspired like a normal human being.

When we reached the lookout we were able to stand on the edge of a ridge and look at the splendor below us. In the valley itself the canopy was still fairly green, the leaves there had not really turned colour, but as you looked a little higher on the mountains the green became interspersed with reds, yellows, greens, and gold’s.

When we got to the gave we stopped to rest for a few minutes and to give thanks before the small, gold Buddha that rested in a recess in the far back of the cave. It was here that I took the best picture that I have taken.

While sitting at the edge of the cave enjoying the view, our conversation was stopped when the resident monk began to bang on his wooden bowl and pray to the mountain gods.

The guy had a great view to give thanks for. The green pines broken up by the red of the maples and the gold of the elms, rocky crags retreating into the distance, truly a phenomenal site.

Buddhist monks have a great fear of being photographed anyway, and a true paranoia about having their picture taken while they are praying, but as I sat there I couldn’t help but take my camera slowly out of my pocket and turn it on with a barely audible click. I shifted my seat ever so slightly, and with my finger over the flash, snapped two quiet pictures. I know that I will probably go to Buddhist hell but the picture that I took, well I will treasure it for the rest of my life.

A note about picuters.

1. Obviously this is my favorite shot. I know that I will be going to Buddhist hell for it, but I really think it is the best picture that I have ever taken.
The monk is praying at the opening of the cave, in his hands you can just see the wooden mallet and bowl that he bangs to pay respect to the forest gods.

2. About midway up the path to the cave, just a nice shot through the trees of the mountains.

3. Fall colours under the canopy. The lanterns to the left are what guide you on the path to the cave.

4. A view from the lookout.

5. A little more fall splash.