Get on a Seoul subway around 8 on a Saturday morning and you'll see it. Neon jackets. Trekking poles folded into backpacks. Visors, gloves, serious-looking boots. Half the car seems to be heading off on an expedition, and you're just going to brunch.
Don't worry, it's not a club outing. (Well, sometimes it is.) It's just Saturday in Korea.
Why does everyone hike?
Look out almost any apartment window here and there's a good chance you'll see a mountain. Roughly 70 percent of the country is mountainous, depending on who's counting, and our cities got squeezed into whatever flat land was left. So the mountain isn't a trip. It's the thing behind the supermarket.
That changes everything. You don't plan a hike weeks ahead. You wake up, throw a few mandarins in a bag, hop on the subway or a local bus, and forty minutes later you're on a trail. National parks don't charge an entry fee, either, which Koreans of a certain age will point out to you with some pride.
Bukhansan, the big granite mountain on Seoul's northern edge, recorded about 7.53 million visits in 2025, according to Aju Business Daily's February 2026 report on Korea National Park Service figures. That's a count of visits, not necessarily different people. Go on an October Sunday and you'll believe it. Some stretches near the top feel less like wilderness and more like the line outside a popular bakery.
And yes, it skews older. Plenty of young people hike now (it turned into an Instagram thing during the pandemic), but the backbone of Korean hiking is people in their 40s, 50s and 60s. People my age, basically.
About that gear
Okay, the outfit. I know how it looks. A man pushing 60 in a fluorescent orange jacket, a pole in each hand, a backpack big enough to smuggle a small grandchild, off to climb a hill that takes two hours round trip.
Is it a bit much? Sometimes. But there are reasons, and not all of them are vanity.
First, Korean trails are rough. Mostly granite, steep, and full of stairs, sometimes hundreds in a row. On a dry day it's fine. After rain, you'll be very jealous of the guy with the grippy boots.
Second, the clothes don't stay on the mountain. For a lot of ajeossi (middle-aged men) and ajumma (middle-aged women), a good outdoor jacket is simply their jacket. It's warm, it sheds rain, and it goes to the market, to church, to lunch with the grandkids.
Third, and let's be honest, there's a little status in it. Hiking is social. You go with your hiking club, your old classmates, your church group, and people notice what you're wearing. Someone's new jacket is an easy conversation starter at 7 a.m. Korea's outdoor clothing brands got very big on exactly this.
So is it overkill for a two-hour hill? A bit. But buying the uniform is part of the hobby, and nobody on the trail is judging you for wearing jeans. Out loud, anyway.
What happens on the trail
People say hello. Not always, and not on the crowded parts, but on a quiet path someone coming down may give you a short "annyeonghaseyo," or just a nod. Say it back. You'll feel very local.
Then there's food. Somewhere near the top, usually on a flat rock with a view, groups sit down and the bags come out. Mandarin oranges. Cucumbers (whole ones, they're basically a water bottle you can eat). Kimbap. Boiled eggs. Somebody always has instant coffee in a thermos. If you're standing nearby, don't be surprised if an older lady hands you a piece of fruit. Take it.
Hiking clubs, called sanakhoe (산악회), are their own little world. They rent a tour bus, leave at dawn, drive three hours to some famous mountain, hike, eat, and roll home late. There's usually more talking than hiking.
When you get back down, look for the air guns. Lots of trailheads, especially in national parks, have a row of compressed-air hoses for blasting the dust off your boots and trousers. It's loud and weirdly satisfying. Nobody explains it to you. You watch someone else and copy.
And then the real reason half the mountain came: the restaurant. Right at the bottom of almost every popular trail there's a cluster of places selling pajeon (a big savory pancake, usually green onion or seafood) and makgeolli, a cloudy rice wine. Some do tofu stew or duck. You sit down, legs shaking, and somebody orders a kettle of makgeolli. I can't really explain how good it tastes right then. Just go find out.
Fall is the big one
Autumn colors near Sokcho, gateway to Seoraksan. Photo: Austin Curtis / Unsplash
If there's one season Koreans go mountain-crazy, it's this one. Danpung (단풍), the autumn leaves, turns the whole country into one big hiking event.
For 2026, VisitKorea's Weatheri-based forecast puts Seoraksan's first foliage on October 3 and its peak on October 25. It lists peak foliage for Bukhansan on November 4, Jirisan on November 5 and Naejangsan on November 11. These are forecasts, not promises: weather can shift the dates, and other forecasting services may give different estimates. Check the linked update before planning your trip.
Quick tip. "First foliage" in Korea means about 20 percent of the mountain has turned, starting from the summit. "Peak" means 80 percent. So if you show up on the first-foliage date, you'll mostly see green with a little red on top.
And please, if you can, go on a weekday. Peak weekends on the famous mountains are no joke. You'll be shuffling up a staircase in a long line of people, and every pajeon place will be full.
Want to try it?
You don't need to go far. Several Seoul mountains are a subway ride away. Namsan is the easy one, basically a steep walk up to N Seoul Tower. Achasan in the east is short, with great views over the Han River. Gwanaksan in the south and Bukhansan in the north are proper climbs, and the last stretch to Bukhansan's highest peak, Baegundae, has you hanging onto steel cables over bare rock.
Don't buy anything special. Shoes with grip, water, one extra layer for the top, snacks. If you really want boots, Seoul runs hiking centers for foreign visitors near a few trailheads where you can rent gear. Start early, before 9 if you can.
Then go back down, find a pajeon place, and order the makgeolli. That's how a hike ends here, whichever mountain you picked.
Sources and planning notes
Statistics and the seasonal forecast were checked on October 9, 2026. For the landscape background, the National Geographic Information Institute's National Atlas of Korea describes approximately 70 percent of Korea's territory as mountainous. For visitor figures and foliage dates, use the linked report and VisitKorea forecast above; dates can change.
More from this blog
- What Summer in Korea Really Feels Like
- Hangul Day in Korea: Why an Alphabet Gets Its Own National Holiday
- Why Korean Restaurants Make You Order for Two (and What Free Banchan Costs)
So which would it be for your first Korean hike, the easy walk up Namsan or the real climb on Bukhansan?
Top photo: a granite ledge in Bukhansan National Park in May, with Seoul spread out below. Photo: A Korean's Take
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