Mount Paektu is a volcano on the border between North Korea and China, and the lake in its crater sits at 2,189 metres and is 384 deep. The bowl holding it was blown open in 946, in one of the largest eruptions of the last five thousand years. That blast dropped five centimetres of ash on northern Japan, a thousand kilometres downwind. Because the year is known, geologists use that layer as a dated line through the ground: whatever lies under it is older, whatever lies above is younger. It turns up in Japanese lake beds and in Greenland ice. Sixteen shattered peaks ring the water, left standing when the rest of the summit went. There is no shelter on that rim, and the wind never lets up. The lake is sapphire only between thaw and freeze: ice holds it from mid-October to mid-June.
Which mountain you climb depends on the side you come from. The routes in general use run up the Chinese flank, where the peak is called Changbaishan. The North Korean side is the sacred ground of the state. It is on the national emblem, leaders climb it before big announcements, and the country teaches that Kim Jong Il was born in a log cabin on these slopes under a double rainbow and a new star. Soviet records place that birth in the Far East. Both Korean anthems name the mountain. The climb crosses stacked climate belts in about an hour: broadleaf forest, spruce and fir, wind-twisted birch, and above about 2,000 metres a bare tundra where nothing grows taller than your boot. For three weeks around mid-July that grey ground flowers all at once between the lava blocks. The lake has one outlet. It squeezes through a notch in the caldera wall and falls in a roar you hear long before you see it. Downstream, groundwater heated inside the volcano comes up at 82°C, and stalls beside the path cook eggs in it. Two more rivers start here, the Yalu and the Tumen, and between them they draw almost the whole border this mountain stands on.