Discover Uiryeong-gil: Seoul’s Most Exclusive Mountain Trail

 Uiryeong Trails
우이령길 | Uidong, Gangbuk-gu, Seoul

Hidden within Bukhansan National Park, Uiryeong is a trail with a mysterious past. In the late 1960s, a North Korean spy crossed these very mountains in an attempt to assassinate the South Korean president. Because of that historic security breach, this area was off-limits for nearly 40 years—nature’s own sanctuary behind a locked gate—until it finally reopened to the public in 2007.

Even now, the protection continues: only 597 hikers per entrance (two gates total) are allowed daily. Admission is free, but you must book online in advance—no exceptions. It keeps the environment pristine and gives every trekker that feeling of walking through a place that still belongs mostly to the forest.

The Trail: Calm, Clean & Completely Captivating

Uiryeong-gil is named because its curves resemble a cow’s ear. It might sound playful, but the scenery is anything but ordinary. The path winds through lush cedar and pine, where the scent of the forest is refreshingly crisp, and sunlight filters gently through the leaves.

As the city fades behind you, silence takes over—just the occasional rustle of deer, or a bird calling from somewhere unseen. It feels rare and untouched, as if you’ve stumbled into nature’s secret room.

Pro tip: Start from the Gyeonggi Province side and exit into Seoul. The downhill route reveals wider landscapes and a more dramatic transition from wilderness to city.

A Temple in the Sky — Seokbulam

Midway up the mountain, I detoured to Seokbulam Temple, perched quietly on the slope. The climb is steep—your calves will protest—but the view rewards every breathless step. The temple grounds radiate tranquility: monks moving gently about their day, prayer flags fluttering, wind sweeping across the valley. Even the air feels older there.

It’s the kind of place where time pauses—encouraging you to do the same.

Lunch With a Side of Suspense

About an hour later, hunger kicked in and the trail delivered once again. I found a small café-style restaurant tucked just off the path—a surprising oasis in the mountains.

Their specialty: 토종닭백숙 (native Korean chicken soup), the kind of comfort food that brings weary hikers back to life. As I waited, I heard chickens clucking cheerfully nearby… and couldn’t help wondering if I should offer a final toast on their behalf.

Jokes aside, the soup was spectacular—tender chicken, rich broth, and that satisfying warmth that spreads through your body like someone wrapped a blanket around your soul.

After hours of hiking, it tasted like pure gratitude.