We woke up to the sound of waves and sunlight slipping into our tent.
Camping on the beach after Route 16 had felt like a perfect pause. But Route 17 was calling — not loud or flashy, but gently, like a hand on your shoulder saying, “Let’s keep going.”
We packed up early, our tent still damp with morning dew, and headed inland to begin Route 17. The trail starts near Geumneung and Hyeopjae Beaches, where families were already arriving with coolers and sunhats, ready for a day by the sea. But we were trading the shore for something else: trees, stone paths, and the calm of Jeju’s forested spine.
Almost immediately, Route 17 surprised us. Instead of long open coasts, we were walking under tall trees and beside volcanic stone walls. The shift felt good. Soothing. Like the island had turned the volume down just enough for us to hear ourselves breathe again.
The heart of this trail lies in the Gotjawal Forest — a rare volcanic forest unique to Jeju. It’s cool even in summer, with thick vines, mossy rocks, and trees that feel untouched. The forest floor is tangled and rich, and birdsong echoes above like a soft playlist you didn’t ask for but love anyway.
There were moments on this trail where we walked in near silence. The kind of silence that’s not empty — it’s full. Full of leaf crunches, filtered sunlight, and the smell of earth and pine. Every once in a while, we’d pass small shrines or stone figures, their faces weathered but watchful.
Halfway through the trail, we stopped at a shaded rest area, kicked off our shoes, and let our backs sink into a wooden bench. That stretch — just sitting and drinking water in the middle of the forest — might’ve been the most restful moment of the entire trek.
Eventually, the trail moved out of the deep woods and into Jeju’s quieter neighborhoods. Here, the route winds past tangerine farms, horse ranches, and traditional houses with basalt walls and rusty tin roofs. The landscape felt humble, lived-in, and deeply Jeju.
In one small village, we passed a school where the kids were just getting out. A little boy waved at us with his whole arm, and his backpack was bigger than he was. It made us smile. These are the quiet moments Route 17 is full of — not big attractions, but small realness.
We ended the trail near Hallim-eup, with the late afternoon sun painting everything golden. Our legs were sore, our shirts damp, and our hearts a little steadier than before.