After a few trails deep in Jeju’s quiet belly, we finally met the sea again. And not just any calm seaside view—Route 13 brought it back loud, wild, and full of motion. It felt like the island had missed us too. The crashing waves, the winds tugging at our jackets, the smell of salt clinging to everything—it was a homecoming, in the most Jeju way possible.
We started from Moseulpo Port, a peaceful fishing town where squid hang out to dry and the air always smells like seaweed and grilled fish. The moment we stepped onto the trail, the sea appeared—blue, endless, and unapologetically loud. The wind was strong today, as if it wanted to test how serious we were about walking.
Early in the trail, we passed by Hamo Sports Park and a few local shops with hand-painted signs. No frills, just local flavor. We grabbed snacks and kept going—Route 13 doesn’t wait for you. It curves along the rugged southern coast, hugging the edge of basalt cliffs and black-sand beaches.
One of the trail’s most iconic views is from the Sagye-ri coastline, where you get this sweeping panorama of Sanbangsan Mountain rising inland and Songaksan dipping into the ocean. Sanbangsan, with its dome-like silhouette, looked almost too perfect to be real. It just sat there—silent, steady, guarding the trail.
Further down, we arrived at the base of Songaksan (송악산), one of Jeju’s favorite coastal mountains. This part of the route felt cinematic—military tunnels carved into the cliffs, old relics from Japan’s occupation, now serving as quiet reminders of Jeju’s history. The trail loops around the base of the mountain, offering nonstop ocean views. Below us, waves crashed into sea caves, echoing like distant thunder.
The Songaksan loop was one of our favorite parts of the day. It wasn’t just scenic—it was emotional. The layered cliffs, the distant island views, and the solemn stillness of the past all folded into one powerful stretch.
After rounding the mountain, we continued toward Gosan-ri, passing a few more quiet hamlets, palm groves, and stone-walled farms. Even here, the wind refused to let up. But we didn’t mind. It felt like the island was pushing us forward—literally.
As we neared the end, Gapado and Marado—two tiny islands off the coast—came into view, floating in the hazy afternoon light. We stood for a long time, just watching the boats bob between them. There’s something humbling about seeing places you can’t walk to, only admire. Jeju always leaves you wanting to go a little further.
Route 13 ends calmly in Daejeong-eup, but our hearts were still pounding. From the roar of the waves to the silence of old tunnels, this trail had taken us on a full loop of emotions.
Route 13 was our reminder that Jeju is never just about scenery—it’s a feeling. A force. A conversation between land, sea, and memory.