Well, here I am back in last weekend again — with a new one just around the corner. Sunday rocked as well, just some low-key, low-impact, low-input rocking on and around one of my neighbourhood mountains. Lots of colour again — hope you like the shots.
It was cloudy and cool, but I was in another of those unfeasibly good moods that, if word got out, could cripple both my image and my blogging career, so keep it quiet. Coffee, obviously. But also music stuff, some more finished product — I’ll spare you the details but I felt GREAT, and that new product got a solid thrashing via the Sennheisers and the phone as I crossed the Daecheongcheon…
..and up a short road to one of the numerous paths snaking up little Dead Man’s Peak — as I christened it (you’ll soon see why):
The woods on this 15-minute climb are always a treat, never more so than on a dark late-Autumn afternoon like this one.
On Saturday’s hike it was reds and russets and oranges that left the strongest impression. Today was mostly variations on yellow.
From the summit, looking towards downtown Gimhae City (you can just make out the walls of Bun-San Fortress on the distant right) beyond the apartment towers of Jangyu, my town:
And the reason I gave the hill its moniker. I wrote about this spot once before after a night-time visit. Every time I come up here I find myself ranting mentally at the hubris and selfishness of this human (or his/her relatives) who would happily clear a mountain top on public land and plant their corpse on the top of it so a century or so of walkers could enjoy their company:
I started down via the main ridge for a short distance…
..and then found myself swinging down a rough dirt road I’d never walked before.
Like most hills in Korea, much of its flanks sport graves.
Down I went, music in my ears, totally at ease with my lot in life. I enjoyed this road, which is suspect is only here to aid grave maintenance.
Nothing prepared me for the sight of a newly born metropolis rising above the road ahead:
I’ve seen these buildings before, several times, on jaunts along Yulha Creek with its cornucopia of coffee joints — but never from this perspective. I kept stopping, staggered, to take a shot as they grew and multiplied.
This little local was most upset by my appearance, and commenced whining and yelping like I’d just thrown a stone at it. I made tracks:
And this is very Korean — all about the concrete haunches of this suburb in the sky were small farms, gardens, rundown farmhouses, dirty alleys. Black goats frolicked in a small paddock, chickens scratched in the dirt a few hundred metres from the rising apartments. Pumpkins colonised old tiled roofs and collapsing walls. They fit a lot in a small space over here, and you can fit a lot into a short walk.
And there I was in Yulha. I made for the creek…
..through a neighbourhood not unlike my own, which is sprouting new townhouses at a prodigious rate where a few months ago there were cabbage patches…
I was feeling so good, it didn’t take much inner debate before I justified the imbibing of a third coffee — always a dangerous move, sleep-wise — and ambled along the bank, past the string of cafes buzzing with weekend java slaves, to my current fave.
Any chance of a sound night’s sleep was doomed, but — as always — it was worth it.
~ And that’s all the Goat wrote