Snowbound Memories: When an Abandoned Resort Became a Worrying Wedge for Tomorrow’s Games
The Tale of a Once‑Thriving Alpine Hub
Just a stone’s throw from the gleaming venues of the upcoming Winter Olympics, a musky, stained mattress greets anyone who steps into an empty ski resort in Heul‑ri. This abandoned site hints at a fate that many of South Korea’s newly built Olympic facilities might face.
- Alps Ski Resort, introduced in the 1980s, was a pioneer in the country’s winter sports scene.
- It pulled in tens of thousands of skiers each season until its sudden shut‑down in 2006.
- Today, Seoul has poured $800 million into Olympic venues, yet the International Olympic Committee emphasizes that these structures must have a clear future to avoid ending in free‑fall.
Heul‑ri: A Village on the Edge of the DMZ
Heul‑ri is a tiny enclaved community (about 250 residents) perched close to the Demilitarised Zone. Its “downtown” is now a silent ghost town: weather‑worn buildings, bare slopes, and a handful of red chairlifts that have long since lost their lift. The locals feel the sting.
“It’s a total wreck,” says Oh Geum Sik, who once ran the resort’s ski‑rental shop. “Everything’s dead, for better or worse.”
Golden Days of the Resort
At 1,052 m above sea level, the mountains delivered the heaviest natural snowfall in South Korea. When the resort first opened, everyone had to trek up a rough path just to taste a quick thrill down the track. That early enthusiasm bred athletes like Jung Dong Hyun, who will represent Korea in alpine skiing at the Pyeongchang Games.
- During its heyday, cars would line the roads every weekend.
- It’s said that about 30% of its customers were foreigners, with skiers from China and Southeast Asia lining up.
- However, the owner was eventually crushed by newer, more accessible resorts and has declared bankruptcy.
Village Pain
“You’ve probably lost a hefty 700 million won,” hears the voice of Koo Jae Kwan, an innkeeper who had opened a lodge and rental shop 16 years ago. The resort’s clock tower stands like a warning, frozen at 6:50, while three guard dogs bark whenever a rare visitor steps in.”
Inside, a grainy mattress drapes the lobby, a faded banner promising “Customer Satisfaction Begins Now” hangs above a dried pool, and a wall‑mounted painting preserves the resort’s frantic peak. Surrounding dead plants and holiday twinkles from a decade ago reveal the place’s slow demise.
South Korean Ski Scene in the Cold
Winter resorts often struggle with short slopes, jaw‑freezing temperatures, and fierce competition from Japan. Kim Hye‑jung, a representative of the Korea Ski Resort Business Association, notes that visitor numbers are plummeting and several resorts have shut down, including those bolstered by Beijing’s newfound ban on tours.
“What will happen post‑Pyeongchang is worrying,” Kim laments. “Government drives to spark a ski boom are still a beat‑in‑the‑past, and after the Games, they’re about to stop.”
Dead‑End Financing Attempts
Alps Seven Resort, an over‑ambitious investor, stepped in with an 80 billion‑won offer to refurbish slopes, condos, and new accommodations plus a theme park. But a missed funding deadline turned it into a failed venture. No notices from Alps Seven Resort have reached the public.
If it had succeeded, the resort could have opened right before the Games, offering a breath of fresh air to Shin Dong Gil, the village chief, who had imagined hosting an Olympic competition there. Instead, concrete bags pile against the old buildings.
The Lonely Hope
While farmers now grow bell peppers, Oh Geum Sik still clings to the 250 sets of ski gear, hopeful that someday the press may tilt it again. In truth, like the fleeting spring snow, optimism is thinning.
“I doubt it will ever reopen,” says Koo. “There’s a single crease of hope, and that’s the only thing I’m ferociously holding onto.”
