This was my friend's experienced on 4rth of july 2009. Sorry it was late but it's very interesting! He says:
We took Highway 50, heading east. I have seen so many beautiful green mountains in Korea, I fear I have become jaded. I try not to take it for granted. Halfway there, we stopped at a city named Munmak where I bought some watered-down coffee and talked to a Korean guy who works for Agilent in the USA. I got my first glimpse of the East Sea as we call it (“Sea of Japan” for the island neighbors who once dominated here) at Gangneung before the bus turned north up to Sokcho. I made the first of three visits to the tourist booth that day before settling into a nondescript but mostly functional hotel room for 35,000 won.
After checking out the beach, I walked to the Joyang-dong Prehistoric Site on a hill overlooking Cheongchoho Lake. People lived here many thousands of years ago, and an effort has been made to re-create their living quarters. It was much like Amsa-dong in eastern Seoul, which I visited shortly after moving from Daegu. How those people survived, I don’t know, but they were made of some tough stuff. These were the Koreans before they called it Korea.
I walked a lot during my visit to Sokcho, which included crossing the Cheonghodaegyo Bridge into downtown. But first, I came to a dead end and had to take a ferry across the river leading to the lake. This ferry was pulled by a man with an iron tool on a cable that stretched between the two sides. He was an older gentleman with one bad eye, and I am guessing he has been on the job for several years, going back and forth many thousands of times.
Getting to the lighthouse observatory was just too far to walk, so I hailed a taxi. It was set high on a rocky hill on a piece of land jutting into the ocean. After climbing a couple hundred steps, I was there. I savored the view in all directions and the cool breeze that blew. Mt. Seorak, thought by some the most beautiful mountain in Korea, is usually visible from the lighthouse, but not on this day. Low-hanging clouds prevented it.
The seafood buffet in the area that cost just 10,000 won could not be found, so I settled for a restaurant with big windows overlooking the water. As I ate and read my Sports Illustrated, I saw numerous scuba divers going down and coming up. On my long walk back to the hotel, I encountered a couple of friendly children. What a pleasure it was to be in an environment where there were families, students and kids—instead of my home in Gangnam which is almost exclusively a place for businesspeople to work and play.
I took a bus out to Seoraksan National Park, but the conditions were not good. It was raining by then and the fog was dense. I bought a ticket for the cable car that ran halfway up Mt. Gwongeumseong. I and my fellow travelers missed some great scenery, but what could be done? It was a different sort of beauty, being in the mountains and surrounded by fog and falling rain. After getting to the cable car landing, I followed some people on steps going up further and it’s a good thing I did. We came to a rocky peak and walked gingerly as far as possible; a tumble on that wet surface would have been most unpleasant. At the bottom, I overheard an English conversation and intruded. It turned out the young man was from Oklahoma and had considered attending my alma mater to pursue higher education. I talked briefly with him, his sister and mom before saying our goodbyes.
Back in town, I went to the beach, took off my shoes and stood where the water lapped at the shore. Very nice. It was not crowded, but still quite a few kids and others were having fun and cavorting. At the hotel, the proprietor informed me that I should not use the air conditioner since it was not, in her opinion, hot. I looked at her like, “I’ll be the judge of that, lady!” and went up and turned on the A/C. Since the shower head did not function, I took a bath for what must have been the first time in five years. Then it was back to the beach to see how things looked at night. A stage was empty, to my minor disappointment. I had hoped to see some kind of show, as in Busan a year earlier. There was lots of booze and food being consumed, sparklers being waved down by the water and some guys engaged in a Korean form of wrestling.
Sunday morning, I woke up sore from all the walking I had done the day before. Nevertheless, I had to do my two miles. I checked out of the hotel, had a breakfast of kimchigigee and went to get a taxi. I had decided to visit the Sokcho City Museum and Displaced Person Cultural Village. What happened next was perplexing, surely due in part to me being a foreigner. But why in the world wouldn’t a taxi driver in a small town like that, when shown a map, be able to find the destination? The first man looked and looked, and rattled off some Korean before I gave up. I went to the next taxi—same thing! The third taxi driver also seemed utterly confused and called over a couple of his colleagues before saying he could get me there. He drove me to the northern part of the city but did not find the place I wanted to visit. I got out at the Waterpia Spa because I was disgusted. I asked a couple of strangers who sent me back in the direction from which I had come. Another taxi driver finally got me there. I spent 90 minutes looking at exhibits and another semi-authentic “village.” This one conveyed what it was like for people in the area during and after the Korean War.
Another taxi ride back to the city center, three hours on a bus back to Seoul and then on the subway to my apartment. It had been an interesting trip, and I’m glad I went.
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