Jangansan (장안산)

Jangansan (장안산) and the mountains surrounding it are a playground. A high peak just off Korea’s mountainous spine, Jangansan has incredible views. The mountain is neither national nor provincial park, and it’s far from any well-known cities or tourist areas – making it feel like a secret unlocked. Jangansan is one of the gems of Korean mountain hiking. And it’s a great place to go big: the following is a multi-mountain epic.

A striking photo of patterns of sunlight on the golden grasses of Jangansan on a late fall day.

Long, winding roads

My designs on Jangansan might have been one of my ‘when the going is easy, I hate it’ plans. First, we did a long run in the morning before working all day Saturday. Afterwards, we had to prepare food, pack and spend some time with our furry little charge – before picking up a rental car and driving four and a half hours south.

We found an oasis (literally, our motel’s name), and finalized the details of our complicated plan lying on a big bed. After a four hour nap, it was time to execute!

We started by driving into a little town, where Kent woke up the local taxi driver long before dawn. This man was an exemplary human being. He not only did not refuse us, he seemed genuinely curious about our crazy plan, and had no problems chatting to us using a translation app.

First, he and I followed Kent to the base of Hwangseoksan. There, the taxi driver showed us a little three-car parking lot about a quarter of the way up the hillside. Then, together we all drove far away, using two different highways and an expressway – a journey of about 45 minutes, driving fast. It felt pretty crazy to leave our own wheels so far behind!

Our new friend asked us how far our hiking trip was. I’d calculated about 20 kilometers, but I knew I was missing sections. He asked us how long it would take us, and when we told him we thought it might take us seven hours, for the first time, he seemed shocked. No no no no, he said, in English, with his hands aflutter. But we laughed and pointed to our packs and told him we’d be running it.

Jangansan starts the day!

We said goodbye in the middle of a road, in the middle of nowhere. There are many trails up Jangansan, but my research had led me to choose this one, because I had found the staircase at this trailhead using streetview! I found this very encouraging, because although this trailhead was remote, some of the other trails started far up farm roads and there was no way I could confirm their existence in advance.

I wound up being absolutely delighted by our chosen trail. We donned headlamps, started the watch and hit the stairs. There was a lot of climbing in the beginning, but pretty soon we were on a lovely ridge.

Our timing was excellent: as soon as we reached the ridge, the sky began to brighten, allowing us to appreciate the views. With steep drop-offs to either side, the views were wide open! There were sweeping vistas across forested valleys to other high peaks in Korea’s mountainous heartland.

But my favorite feature was that our little ridge, so steep and yet so runnable, was directly parallel to another one of Jangansan’s steep ridges to the left! And, the high forest to either side of the trail was already in late fall mode. Most of the leaves were on the path, rather than in the trees. This afforded us beautiful views: we could see out through the trees to the scenery, despite being deep in the forest!

A portrait of the author, pointing to a Jangansan map and grinning into bright morning sunlight.

This initial section was one that I hadn’t been able to get any distance information for, and it turned out that it was 5 kilometers long, all undulating, high ridge. Very fun – and very pretty! When we reached the summit ridge, we could see the peak ahead of us, marked by a radio tower.

A candid vertical snapshot of Kent on the summit ridge. Behind him, there's a tall telecommunications tower, and a golden sunrise beyond.

Soon, we arrived to a party in progress on the wide open summit: a cluster of colorful tents and a group of friendly folk offering us morning coffee. We had to decline, because running, but we thought everyone was really nice and stayed on a little extra to chat.

The scene at the summit on Jangansan. The author stands behind the summit stele. In front, there's a helipad and a man in a red sweater entering a red tent.

The first rays of the sun had just hit the peak. These rays were warm, but the wind was awfully windy! We did our usual summit celebrations and then carried on.

In this unique photograph, the bottom half of both the author and the Jangansan summit stele she's posing with are in deep shadow. Her face and the very top of the stone are bathed in warm sunlight.
Jangansan!

For about a minute! After visually identifying the pass we wanted to descend to, we were stopped in our tracks on the first step of a wooden staircase. A view that we hadn’t been able to properly see from the peak unfolded before us: a beautiful scene of shifting sunlight and shadow over an open, undulating expanse of silver grass, waving in the wind. Incredible!

A panoramic image of the sun rising over the tallest Baegunsan in South Korea. The sun's rays peek out from a thick, ominous layer of cloud and gild the long grass prairie of Jangansan's slopes.

I was super excited to run through the grass below, where we could already see observation platforms and wooden walkways! But equally thrilling was the more distant scenery: the sun rising over Baegunsan! There’s always a sunrise over a Baegunsan, Kent pointed out and this made me laugh (we climbed 5+ mountains bearing this name in 2018 – but there’s more: a grand total of 37!).

This biggest of Baegunsans was truly impressive: even from our high vantage point atop Jangansan. It towered over the surrounding ridges, with the sun peeking out from a cloud right at the crest. It was a scene of the Baekdudaegan in all it’s rugged glory.

We ran down towards this scene and into Jangansan’s grasslands, passing a few more friendly hikers. The grass was as glorious as I’d hoped it would be, and I was perhaps even more delighted by the tunnels of green between! Long, sturdy poles of bamboo grass seemed unperturbed by the changing weather that had colored rest of the mountain. These plants still grew lush and verdant, making for some magical green tunnel running!

In this action shot, the author is running through a tunnel of green bamboo grass on the slopes of Jangansan. Her back is towards the camera and her poles at her sides.

Yeongchwisan: Gatekeeper peak to the Baekdudaegan

Eventually, we reached the pass, where we found a campground for thru-hikers and several useful maps. Then, more stairs! I wanted to really push the pace. After all, I’d designed this run to be good training – that was our main focus for the day. We had a seven hour run on the books – and I wanted it to be hard.

The site of a simple campground for Baekdudaegan thru-hikers, at the foot of Yeongchwisan.

But it was a short climb up to Yeongchwisan, and in no time we were on the summit. This mountain had a lovely summit stele, etched with the Baekdudaegan logo.

A summit selfie: Kent and Carrie pose with the stone summit marker atop Yeongchwisan.
Yeongchwisan!

It was wildly windy and cold, so we didn’t linger and instead turned south to follow a brief section of the Baekdudaegan! I knew Kent would be especially thrilled by this. Korea’s long-distance trail is often associated with it’s very hardest, most technical bits: all exposed rock and roped up climbs. But here, like on Jangansan, the trail was rolling and runnable: steep in places but mostly nontechnical, dirt trail.

A vertical photograph of a stone and earth staircase built into the side of a mountain. Kent is on the move ahead, venturing into the forest on the Baekdudaegan cross-country trail.

Baegunsan: The highest peak among the white clouds

On this gentle route, we zoomed over to the highest Baegunsan in the land! This beautiful peak had two summit steles: a wee one, with traditional Chinese characters – and a huge one, befitting the stature of this Baegunsan! We played here for a little bit. It was our third peak of the day, and I was feeling really accomplished. I also felt really lucky about the warmth: the sun was now shining brightly enough to take some of the bite out of the wicked winds.

An attractive portrait of the original Baegunsan summit marker on a sunny late fall day. The small stone features dramatic red lettering in Chinese, and big, open views of the valley below.

From this peak, we turned east, heading down to Baebaejae – a funnily named pass between us and our next peaks. This route was some of the most remote running we did all day. All the trails on Jangansan were well-developed and well-trodden, as was the Baekdudaegan section we’d just completed. But this secondary ridge trail was leaf-strewn and wild.

Another snapshot from Baegunsan: here the author poses alongside a newer, larger summit stele that bears the mountain's name and height.
Baegunsan, the tallest!

All along the Baegunsan ridge, we’d been able to see the bulk of Jangansan towering off to the right – west, as we ran south. With this easterly turn, we could see our next mountains, Gamtusan and Daebongsan, rising ahead.

Soraebong is special too!

It was a long descent to the pass. En route, we encountered Soraebong, marked with a paper plaque affixed to a tree. I love it when hikers celebrate the peaks that they feel ought to have a stele! Kent and I had been switching leads on and off (he led up to Jangunsan, I led down to the pass and up Yeongchwibong, he led along the Baekdudaegan) and now I led again.

A weatherworn sign affixed to a tree marks the position of Seoraebong, one of Baegunsan's subsidiary peaks.
Seoraebong!

Kent was worried that we were going down into the wide valley that we could see from Soraebong, but I knew we were heading to a pass. I’d previewed this part of the route and knew we would find two slightly offset staircases and a big map. We reached this quiet section of road, did a quick check-in with that huge map, and then set off to climb Gamtusan!

An action-shot of Kent, striding down a paved road towards a trailhead under a blue sky.

The steep, stark heights of Gamtusan

Gamtusan was an incredibly steep peak. The summit was just one kilometer up from the pass, but the trail felt nearly vertical, plus it was slippery and covered in leaves. There were some military phone line wires like there are in our neighborhood, which made me feel at home, despite our remote position!

In this vertical photograph, the author stands next to a massive map of area mountains that's far taller than she is. She's pointing to their current location below Gamtusan.

Gamtusan looked like winter had come early: the mountain’s slopes were completely brown and bare.

A snapshot of a smiling Kent running through a barren forest over leaf-strewn terrain.

We popped up on the top of the mountain and found another stele with red writing and Hanja! Our break on Gamtusan was longer than intended, but the sun was shining a little warmth down on us and it was restful.

A vertical peak portrait: this image is focused on the dark stone summit marker, inscribed with red Chinese characters. This stele marks the top of Gamtusan!
Gamtusan!

Clouds and crowds over Daebongsan

From Gamtusan, we veered north again to head for the tall, twin peaks of Daebongsan. I spotted an orange peel on the ground, and surmised that we were not in fact alone on this ridge – an assumption that was proven to be fact just a kilometer or so ahead! Our fellow hikers actually consisted of a huge tour group that was spread out along the ridge. This was a surprise! I had expected this to be the quietest section of the trail, because it was neither Baekdudaegan nor one of our 100 summits mountains. But actually, this is where all the people were!

For the first few kilometers towards the peaks, the trail was runnable – but it got a lot steeper as we gained ground. The wind whistled in the treetops and blew in heavy grey clouds. At one point, I remember looking over towards Baegunsan, now parallel to the west, and seeing sheets of rain falling. The wind was blowing strongly from that direction, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the storm reached us.

With nothing to do but go on, we continued. Sure enough, within a few minutes, raindrops began to fall. We put on our jackets, and I was never so glad to have them! It didn’t rain hard, but it was cold, and I was grateful for the protective extra layer.

In the rain, we reached what we initially thought was the first summit, but turned out to be a false one: the real summit was about 300 meters off the main trail. At the junction, there were several backpacks and a few people waiting for the chance to summit Daebongsan. We could see over to the exciting rocky summit, but its small surface was already crowded – hence the wait!

Much as we wanted to greet another peak, we weren’t really expecting to wait for it. We were already in all our layers and standing at the back of the queue as it continued to rain. Moreover, weren’t we supposed to be running?

Two rocky cairns decorate Daebongsan's Cheonghwangbong peak. Beyond, the mountain shears away, revealing vast views.

So we decided we’d carry on instead to the other peak, Cheonwangbong. We left the tour group behind and were immediately on our own. We ran down and up again, across a little saddle with the peak always in our sights.

A vertical portrait of the author, posed at the side of the summit stele for Cheonhwangbong. This peak is the highest of Daebongsan!
Daebongsan’s Cheonhwangbong!

The summit stele was another large one with brilliantly red Chinese characters. The rain had tapered off and the sky was brightening (if only incrementally), so we stopped there to enjoy the view and our solitude. When we started to feel the chill of the autumn air again, we backtracked a few hundred meters, turned right and began to go down.

In this second photograph featuring Cheonghwangbong's summit, Kent is the one doing the posing. He's got one hand on the stele. One of the rock cairns is in the background.

Descent and decisions

This was by far the gnarliest stretch of trail of the whole day! Initially it was crazy steep, but even as it leveled out, it didn’t get any less wild. There were a few patches of sucking mud to mix things up between long stretches of slick, moss-covered, leaf-strewn boulders that rolled around under our feet and threatened to send us down in a landslide. It was only a couple of kilometers, but those kilometers seemed to go on forever!

It was tempting to feel frustrated, especially after a couple of falls, because of how speedy we had been up to that point. I joked about being ready to ‘go road’. But we kept our spirits up thinking about the technical training we were adding in to this already stellar session.

When we did find the road, I was really ready for it and burst into a run again. It was quite a long way down, both in terms of elevation and in terms of distance. This stretch of remote road was about four kilometers long, passing through several farms. Hungry and thirsty now, I began to covet the bright orange persimmons hanging ripe and ready on the trees beside the road.

Eventually, dirt turned to pavement, and the switchbacks leveled out. We crossed a bridge and ran along the side of the highway, against traffic, to the rest stop at the foot of Hwangseoksan. We turned left, and ran up the road. A kind man stopped his car and offered to drive us upwards, but we declined.

We were in a bit of a pickle in terms of our plan. We were rapidly approaching the seven hour mark on our run. I suggested we keep running and simply resupply at the car. But we reached our rental at 6:57 of elapsed running time.

Gulping water, we did a quick consultation with online maps and the local signs. All indicators suggested that it would be a journey of at least eight kilometers round trip, and more than a thousand meters up as well. I truly hated to miss Hwangseoksan, feeling like we were promised to it. We’d been looking forward to all the amazing features of this mountain too.

In the end, that was what convinced me that we should skip it. I didn’t want to rush up Hwangseoksan, blind to its sights, only to dash back down again in a hurry. And I didn’t want to stress out the husband, either. Plus, we’d already had a perfect day! We’d climbed the heights of Jangansan, and run amongst its friends. As for training, we’d been incredibly lucky to be exactly on target: you never know exactly how it will go in the mountains, what kind of trail you’ll get and day you’ll have!

In fact, we absolutely knocked this workout out of the park – and that’s after work and a ton of driving for a one-day weekend. We had a PERFECT day on the trails: a great workout and a great adventure, so actually, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I’m really proud of this one: we clocked some good speed for good vert on Jangansan and friends!

KNOW AND GO! JANGANSAN

TRANSPORTATION

Jangansan resides in the rugged wilderness of North Jeolla province. The massif is southeast of Jangsu. This small town is pretty far away from the provincial capital, Jeonju, but close to all kinds of heights! Reach Jangsu by intercity bus from Jeonju (90 minutes) or Namwon (45 minutes).

From Jangsu, it’s easy to get to the east-side trails on Jangansan! At Jangsu terminal, hop on the bus bound for Deoksan. Just 13 minutes will put you at the nearest and highest trailhead. Start your hike on the eastern side of highway 742 (left, if facing the direction of the bus’s movement).

Stay on the Deoksan bus a little longer for more options. After a journey of just over 22 minutes, disembark at either the Yeonju or Beobyeon stop on Jangansan’s southeastern flank.

Jangan village is situated in a valley of the same name on the northern side of Jangansan. Two trails start from this area, so you might consider this region as a starting point. To reach it, take the Janggye bound bus – but don’t get off at Janggye! Remain on the bus for a journey of about 75 minutes in total. Alternatively, you can take a 40 minute ride on the direct Guimokdong bus from Janggye.

The shortest route to the summit is all but inaccessible on public transit. If you’re driving, set your sights on the Muryeong pass parking lot. If that’s not an option, you can take a 2.5 hour journey on bus 1-163 from Namwon, but note that it will only take you as far as the Jiji valley area (last stop: Samgeo). From there it’s a 6 kilometer highway hike to reach the closest Jangansan trailhead.

HIKE & RUN

…and have an amazing outing on this very high, very scenic yet little-known mountain just off the Baekdudaegan! There are some excellent lengthy options for your all-day running and hiking needs here, and I truly hope you take advantage of them!

Jangansan in particular

From the high pass at Deoksan, the route to the summit is long and winding. The trail stays on a high ridge over some of Jangansan’s secret valleys, offering rare views.

At the Yeonju bus stop, there are two options. The first trail begins on a road, then follows a meandering river through a a deep valley before climbing up dramatically and directly to Jangansan’s peak. The second trail ascends a subsidiary ridge, which it follows until it reaches another peak on the main ridge. There are two connections between these two trails around the midway point, so you can switch up your route if you want to!

Jangansan trail map (note that north is in the bottom right corner of this map)

The trail from Beobyeon village offers a shorter climb, but this route is not regularly maintained. Proceed with caution.

Neither of the routes from Jangan are direct, though they are somewhat shorter than the trails on the Deoksan/Beobyeon side. The simplest way is to proceed southeast from the bus stop, gain the ridge and then hang a right for Jangansan. The other route requires some backtracking on roads before a stiff ascent to meet the Deoksan trail.

Our meandering route

If you want to do a huge run, taking in several peaks, high ridges and isolated mountain passes, I highly recommend our route (or designing your own selection of area summits)!

Our route began with a long traverse of Jangansan, starting near the Yeonju bus stop mentioned above. We took the option two and climbed the ridge. Our descent took us north, initially in the direction of Janganri, then we dropped down to Baebaejae pass to cross highway 743.

Yeongchwisan-Baegunsan trail map (Baekdudaegan)

From there, we climbed up onto the Baekdudaegan ridge and turned south to run along it to Yeongchwisan and Baegunsan the highest. Continuing, we left the Baekdudaegan behind and turned east to follow a subsidiary ridge down to highway 1001.

Baegunsan – Daebongsan connection trail map

Then it was up to Gamtusan and along to Daebongsan. We retraced our steps slightly from Cheonhwangbong to take the most direct route down to highway 26 and Banjeong village at the foot of Hwangseoksan.

STAY & EAT

As this is remote country, the best options are for those who are backpacking or otherwise self-sufficient. There were some folks in truly awesome campsites up on Jangansan when we visited! (However, note that there are no official campsites on or near the mountain).

There is a campsite and two motels in Jangsu, along with a supermarket and a handful of restaurants and convenience stores. Janggye has three motels and a similar array of provisioning options.

There are basic rooms for rent in Deoksan and near the Yeonsu bus stop – and that’s about it. There’s a lone restaurant near Jangan on the other side of the mountain. There are a few more options in the Jiji village area.

My advice? Pack in what you’ll need for your adventure. Take your picnic to great heights and enjoy the purity and simplicity of Jangansan. You can have your mountain cuisine feast when you return to civilization.

OTHER NOTES

Jangansan was one of our absolute favorite summits of the whole mission. Jangansan is just off the Baekdudaegan and so features a high summit, at 1237 meters! It’s not all about height though: there’s much more to love about Jangansan. I hope you go find out for yourself why I adore this unique peak. And it’s not just me! Rave reviews by the Korea Forest Service here and the Black Yak 100 summits list here.

Our unforgettable 31 kilometer run of Jangansan and friends took place in October 2018.

Ready for more? The 120 summits main page awaits!


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