The Sound of Ice Cracking Under a Thousand Feet
The first thing you notice isn’t the cold — it’s the noise. Hwacheon’s frozen river sounds like a living thing: creaks, pops, the scrape of plastic stools being dragged across the surface. Somewhere to your left, a kid screams because she felt a tug on her line. It’s probably nothing, but her dad is already on his knees next to her, and now the whole row of strangers is watching.
That’s the Hwacheon Sancheoneo Ice Festival in a nutshell. It runs February 1 through February 21, 2026, in a small Gangwon Province town about two and a half hours northeast of Seoul, and it draws over a million people each winter. The draw is ice fishing for sancheoneo — mountain trout — but that undersells it. It’s more like a frozen county fair crossed with a Korean family reunion you’ve been accidentally invited to.
Sitting on Ice, Waiting for a Fish
The ice fishing works like this: you buy a ticket, you get a short rod with a hook, and you find one of the thousands of holes drilled into the river ice. Then you sit on a low plastic stool and wait. The rod is maybe 40 centimeters long. The whole setup looks faintly ridiculous, which is part of the charm.
Most people don’t catch anything for the first hour. The trout are released into the river beforehand — something like 20,000 of them over the festival’s run, though I haven’t been able to verify the exact number — and they’re not particularly eager to bite. When someone does get one, you’ll know because their entire section of the ice erupts. Strangers high-five. Photos are taken. The fish is maybe 20 centimeters long and looks deeply unimpressed.
You can take your catch to the cooking stations nearby. Grilled is the popular choice — brushed with salt, cooked over charcoal until the skin crackles. There’s also hoe, the Korean-style sashimi, served with chogochujang (vinegar chili paste). The fish isn’t going to change your life, flavor-wise, but eating something you pulled out of a frozen river ten minutes ago has a satisfaction that transcends taste.
One thing the brochures don’t mention: the fishing zones get genuinely crowded on weekends. We’re talking shoulder-to-shoulder, barely room to cast your line without hooking someone’s sleeve. If you can manage a weekday visit, the experience is dramatically better. Saturday morning by 10am, you might wait 30 minutes just to get a spot.
Everything Else on the Ice
The festival sprawls well beyond the fishing holes. There’s an entire zone for sledding — massive ice slides that are steeper than they look. Kids go down screaming, adults go down pretending they’re only doing it for the kids. Ice bumper cars are somewhere between hilarious and terrifying, depending on who’s driving.
The barefoot ice-walking section deserves a mention. It’s exactly what it sounds like: you take off your shoes and walk across the ice. The river surface is kept at a specific thickness in this area, and supposedly walking on it barefoot is good for your circulation. I’m skeptical about the health claims, but it’s the kind of experience you do once, swear you’ll never do again, and then tell everyone about for years.
There’s also an ice soccer field, which devolves into people falling over within seconds. Nobody seems to mind.
After Dark
The night festival is worth staying for, though it depends on the night. The ice sculptures are lit up in shifting colors, and there are lantern displays along the riverbank. On certain evenings — check the schedule closer to the date, as it changes year to year — there are fireworks and performances.
Honestly, the nighttime atmosphere is better than the daytime. The crowds thin out (Koreans are early-to-bed on cold nights), the lights reflecting off the ice create this strange, quiet beauty, and the food stalls feel cozier when you’re eating hotteok in the dark with numb fingers. It’s not a glamorous scene. It’s better than glamorous.
The Cold Is No Joke
Let’s be direct about this: Hwacheon in February is brutally cold. Temperatures routinely hit -15°C, sometimes lower. You’ll be sitting still on ice for extended periods, which makes it feel even worse. This is not a “wear a nice coat and you’ll be fine” situation.
What you actually need:
- Thermal base layers (top and bottom)
- A serious winter coat — not a fashion parka, a real one
- Insulated, waterproof boots with good grip. The ice is slippery and uneven.
- Hand warmers, plural. The disposable Korean ones (sonnanro) are sold everywhere at the festival for about 1,000 won a pair
- Waterproof gloves if you’re fishing. Your hands will get wet. Non-waterproof gloves become torture devices.
- A sitting pad or cushion. The plastic stools conduct cold directly into your body.
I’d also bring a change of socks. Between the ice, the occasional splash, and the general dampness, wet feet are almost inevitable.
Getting There, and Getting Fed
Hwacheon is in Gangwon Province, roughly 130 km northeast of Seoul. Driving takes about two and a half hours, though traffic on festival weekends can push that to three or more. There’s no train station nearby.
The most practical option without a car: shuttle buses from Dong Seoul Bus Terminal (동서울종합터미널). During the festival, these run several times daily. Schedules tend to be confirmed only a few weeks before the event, so check the official Hwacheon festival website or Naver closer to early January.
If you’re coming from elsewhere in Korea, you could also bus to Chuncheon and transfer from there, but it adds time and complexity for minimal savings.
For food, you won’t go hungry. The festival grounds are lined with stalls selling Korean winter comfort food: hotteok (sweet filled pancakes — the brown sugar ones are dangerously good), tteokbokki, fish cakes on sticks, roasted chestnuts, and sujeonggwa, a warm cinnamon-ginger punch that might be the best thing about February in Korea. There are also tent restaurants serving army stew (budae jjigae) and kimchi stew if you need something more substantial.
Booking the Trip
Accommodation in Hwacheon itself is limited — it’s a small town. Most domestic visitors make it a day trip from Seoul. If you want to stay overnight, book early; the handful of pensions and guesthouses fill up fast, especially on weekends.
The more practical approach for international visitors: base yourself in Seoul and do the festival as a day trip. It’s a long day — leave early, come back late — but it’s doable. You can book the shuttle bus independently, or if you’d rather not deal with Korean-language booking systems, KLOOK and KKday both offer packaged day tours from Seoul that include transport and fishing permits. Not the cheapest option — you’re paying for convenience — but it removes the logistics headache, which on a freezing February morning is worth more than you think.
For flights into Seoul, the usual booking platforms apply. Trip.com tends to have reasonable fares on Korean routes, though it’s always worth comparing.
On the Way Home
The bus back to Seoul is quiet. Everyone’s exhausted, half-frozen, smelling faintly of charcoal-grilled fish. My boots were wet through, my phone had died from the cold two hours earlier, and I had fish scales on my jacket that I didn’t notice until the next morning.
The kid from the fishing hole next to ours caught three trout. I caught zero. She waved goodbye to me in the parking lot like we were old friends. I suppose, for four hours on the ice, we kind of were.
