We didn’t plan for Trail 3B to become such a core memory in our Olle journey. But that’s how Jeju works—it surprises you. What started as a windswept hike along black cliffs quickly turned into one of the most unforgettable segments of our trek. It wasn’t just because of the views or the peaceful pace. It was because this was where we set up camp for the very first time—our first night camping on Jeju Island, right in the middle of our Olle adventure.
The day began at Seopjikoji, one of Jeju’s iconic landmarks. With its wind-lashed cliffs, dramatic lighthouse, and sprawling views over the sea, it’s easy to see why filmmakers and photographers love this spot. As we began our walk along Trail 3B, the ocean stayed close at our side, crashing rhythmically against dark volcanic rocks that lined the path like a broken crown. The air was crisp, the wind relentless, but invigorating. Seopjikoji stretched into the sea like a natural pier, and behind us, the silhouette of All In House, a famous drama set-turned-museum, sat quietly on the ridge.
The trail snaked along the coast, dipping into quiet coves and winding past old stone fences. The sounds of the waves were constant, and so was the wind—Jeju’s ever-present voice. The landscape was wild here, more raw and dramatic than the gentler Olle trails we’d walked before. We passed Goseong-ri Port, where a handful of boats bobbed lazily in the harbor, and continued on toward Sinyang Beach, a spot known for windsurfing and low-key seaside cafes. It felt like we were walking through Jeju’s quieter side—no crowds, just the sound of our footsteps on gravel and the distant call of seabirds.
Instead of heading home after the trail, we decided to do something we’d never done before: camp. Not in a designated campsite, not in a rented glamping pod—but outside, near the trail, with just the essentials we carried. It was a spontaneous choice, and maybe a bit reckless considering how strong the wind was that night. But it felt right.
We pitched our tent close to the coast, not far from Sinyang-ri, just off the trail. The sound of the ocean filled the air as we struggled with poles and flapping fabric. It was clumsy, loud, a bit chaotic—but once the tent was up, the wind didn’t matter. We boiled water for instant soup, sat cross-legged on our mats, and watched the stars appear one by one. It was cold, yes. The wind made everything feel raw and alive. But it was also peaceful in a way no guesthouse could offer. That night, huddled in our little tent, we fell asleep to the waves and woke to the soft light of dawn breaking over the sea.
The next morning, still wrapped in layers and laughter from the night before, we began Trail 4. The terrain shifted almost immediately. Gone were the dramatic cliffs and crashing waves. Instead, we entered Jeju’s quieter countryside. Trail 4 begins near Sinyang Beach and gently weaves its way toward Pyoseon Beach, passing through farmlands, quiet neighborhoods, and open stretches of coastal path. The rhythm slowed down, and so did we.
We wandered past stone walls surrounding tangerine orchards, their branches heavy with fruit. We passed locals tending small gardens, dogs napping under scooters, and an elderly woman waving at us from behind her greenhouse. These were the moments we didn’t expect—simple, quiet exchanges that made us feel less like hikers and more like guests in someone else’s daily life.
The trail moved inland briefly before guiding us back toward the coast. By the time we reached Pyoseon Beach, the sky had softened to a gentle blue, and the tide was low. Locals combed the shallows for shellfish, and the sound of a radio played from a parked truck nearby. We found a bench, kicked off our shoes, and just sat there for a while, letting the breeze cool our tired legs.
Looking back, this stretch—from Seopjikoji to Pyoseon—was more than a walk. It was a transition. Trail 3B gave us drama, wind, and that thrilling first camp. Trail 4 slowed us down and reminded us that some trails are about movement, and others are about noticing. Together, they gave us both.
We’ll always remember the chill of that first camping night, the stubborn tent poles, and the feeling of waking up with the sea just outside. That was the moment Jeju stopped being a destination and started feeling like something deeper—like a companion in our journey.
We’re not sure what the next trail will bring. Maybe more wind. Maybe rain. Maybe another surprise that changes everything again. But we’re walking differently now—slower, softer, and more open to whatever this island wants to show us.