Day 7 – Solo Korea Car Camping Trip: Geoje Island → Ulsan

2021.05.30(Sun)

It’s already been a week since I left home and set out on this journey.

Starting from Chungcheong-do, passing through Jeolla-do, and now Gyeongsang-do—from the West Sea to the South Sea, and now heading toward the East Sea.

Time has flown by faster than I expected, but I take it as a good sign. It means I’ve been making the most of each day, traveling with purpose and filling this week with meaning.

Early in the morning, I went to Sujeongbong, a small peak near Gujora Beach.

Though the sea has always been my first love, I also enjoy the mountains, so I set off with excitement.

It only took about ten minutes to reach the top—too short to even call it a hike—but the view was more than worth it. From there, I could see the entire village of Gujora spread out below me, with the sea stretching out on both sides. It was such a breathtaking sight that it felt like a shame to witness it alone.

At the summit, there was even a small stone wall, which added a unique charm to the place.

One of the biggest downsides of traveling alone is that when you reach such incredible spots, there’s no one to take photos of you.

Still, where there’s no path, you make one. Using the rocks and trees around me as makeshift tripods, I managed to snap a few photos—not perfect, but good enough to capture the memory.

On my way back, I filled my lungs with the clean forest air I hadn’t felt in a long time. Then, spotting a slush machine at a snack shop, my feet naturally carried me there. Of course, the rule of slushies is that you always mix the flavors, so I pulled out my classic move: ‘Half-and-half, please!’ The taste was fantastic, though at 3,000 won, the price was a little less so.

Back in the day, you could get a tall paper cup of slushie for just 500 won at the snack stand near school… I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.

Since I’d gotten a bit of exercise, I decided to reward myself with a bowl of suyuk gukbap (pork and rice soup). Out of the two restaurants I’ve eaten at on this trip so far, both happened to be gukbap spots—apparently, I’ve just discovered a hidden preference of mine.

With my stomach full, I headed back to the beach, spread out my mat, and napped under the sun while tanning.

Part of me wanted to stay here another day—I’d already grown attached to this place since last night—but the road ahead is still long. Besides, I don’t want to get too comfortable in familiarity. So, with a heavy heart, I got back into the car. Goodbye.

My next destination: Ulsan.

I thought about stopping in Busan, a city I absolutely love, but since I’ve been there many times already and expected it to be crowded, I decided to skip it. I just gave it a passing wave as I drove by and continued straight on to Ulsan.

Tonight’s car camping spot was Jinha Beach.

After driving hard for about two hours, I finally arrived—only to find not just crowds of people, but so many cars that I had to circle around several times just to find a parking spot. Seeing that many people again after so long left me with mixed feelings—part excitement, part unease. For a moment, I thought about moving somewhere else, but since I’m no veteran driver and two hours behind the wheel is about my limit, I parked in a far-off corner and stayed.

I grabbed my mat and book and walked toward a quieter part of the beach. For some reason, I couldn’t focus on reading at first, so I just sat there alone, people-watching.

Because the waves were strong, there were many surfers, and watching them—facing challenges, failing, yet never giving up and trying again—was surprisingly fun.

As I watched, thoughts of my own reality resurfaced.

I set out on this trip to find an answer to what I want to do with my life, but now that I’m halfway through, I felt a pang of disappointment at having no clear realization yet. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—by the end of this journey, what will I have gained?

Lost in these endless thoughts, the sky must have grown impatient, because before I knew it, the day had already slipped into night.

And that was how I ended my day.

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6. The past is always romanticized.

: When I was in middle school, I longed for my elementary school days. And as a high schooler, I longed for middle school. In the future, will I be longing for who I am now?

At eighteen, I wondered what hardships I had already faced to reach such a realization, and honestly, I was impressed with myself. And my younger self was right. Even now, I sometimes look back on my high school days—when I had less responsibility and fewer burdens—and I miss them.

Of course, I had struggles and hardships back then too, but with a memory as short as a goldfish, I’ve forgotten most of them. All that remains are the good moments. Whether I truly forgot, or whether they’ve simply been romanticized, no one can say for sure.

Because the past gets romanticized, people tend to yearn for what once was and, in contrast, exaggerate the hardships and challenges of the present. That’s okay—it’s a perfectly normal way of thinking. But even these struggles, one day, will lose their weight and fade from memory, becoming trivial worries not worth remembering.

We shouldn’t live trapped in the past, nor should we make the future our only priority.

Isn’t it said that the most precious gold is ‘now’? The present is what continues into the future. That’s why I believe we should place greater value on each passing moment.

There’s a way not to cling too tightly to the past: focus fully on the present and be happy in it. As long as I’m happy now, even if I occasionally recall the past, I feel no desire to go back.

Until I wrote this, I had been drowning in countless worries about the future. But tonight, I realized—it’s far better to use that time to focus on the present.

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