We thought Route 6 was the relaxing part of the journey—and it was—but Route 7 reminded us that Jeju’s southern coast still had drama to offer. It was a trail that kept one foot in the ocean and the other in quiet neighborhoods, with moments of deep reflection and sudden bursts of “wow” views. It wasn’t the most intense in terms of elevation, but it had a feel—that in-between zone of raw coastline and lived-in local life. A trail that seemed to say: slow down, but don’t get too comfortable.
We began from the heart of Seogwipo City, retracing the last few meters of Trail 6 and easing into Trail 7 along familiar streets. The city quickly faded behind us, and soon we found ourselves walking through Chilsimni Poetry Road, a gentle path lined with poetic verses carved into stone. It was quiet, almost meditative. The kind of place that makes you pause—not because you’re tired, but because the atmosphere asks you to.
Not long after, we reached one of the highlights of the entire Olle system: Cheonjiyeon Waterfall. Tucked into a tranquil forested park, the waterfall cascades down into a wide emerald pool. It’s touristy, yes—but early in the morning, it was just us and the sound of falling water. We didn’t rush. We just watched.
Moving on, the trail took us along rocky shorelines, where waves danced against the jagged volcanic edges of the island. Beophwan Port appeared like a small secret—fishing boats gently creaking, and locals going about their quiet routines. A few dogs barked lazily from porches. The smell of fish sauce and tangerines floated in the breeze. This was the kind of trail that wasn’t trying to impress—it just was.
We took a break near Wolpyeong Port, where we sat on the edge of a stone wall with the sea at our feet. The ocean shimmered like it had stories it wasn’t telling us, and the wind kept blowing our hats off like a mischievous friend. It was peaceful, and yet a little wild.
The final stretch of the trail surprised us. After winding through coastal paths and back alleys, Route 7 ends at Oedolgae Rock, the same majestic sea stack we’d seen from the end of Trail 6—but now from a different angle. The late afternoon light hit it differently, casting long shadows and warm gold across the landscape. It felt like a fitting full-circle moment—like the trail was telling us, “Look again. You’ve changed since the last time you stood here.”
This trail didn’t break our bodies, but it tugged at something softer—the part of us that needed quiet, needed cliffs, needed a little room to breathe. Route 7 isn’t as flashy as some of the longer, rougher courses, but it has a beauty that lingers. It offers both reflection and rhythm. It gives you space.
We ended the day with legs that weren’t too sore but hearts that felt oddly full. Route 7 reminded us that not every trail has to be a challenge to be meaningful. Sometimes, the real shift happens when the road is steady, the wind is kind, and the ocean walks beside you like an old friend.
Next? Route 8. And we’re pretty sure Jeju has something wild waiting just around the bend.