Originally I planned to spend just three nights in Seoul, i’ll actually be leaving after my fifth. I like how the city looks and feels, and i’ve also been too jet-lagged to seriously consider starting cycling. There’s also, of course, a slight anxiousness in beggining this next part of my journey.
Being back in San Francisco for a week reminded me why I feel at home in cities, the oppurtunities and the people, and the anonymity too. I made some new friends and got excited about working again. I know I still need a little more time away before I can fully embrace it, but perhaps that will be sooner than I originally thought.
Seoul is big, and surprisingly airy – everything looks serene in the peachy Spring sunlight. It’s well designed, people are smartly dressed and stuff just seems to work. It’s the total opposite of Central America where i’ve spent the last three months. I could happily spend two weeks here.
But I came to the other side of the world to cycle. So today I eased myself into my new vocation by cycling from Hongdae, where i’m currently staying in Seoul, to Incheon – specifically Ara West Sea Lock which marks the official start of South Korea’s ‘Four Rivers’ route which i’ll be descending over the next fortnight. When I begin properly tomorrow i’ll pick up where I left off when I returned this afternoon, heading southward.
The roundtrip would be about 40 miles. Not so bad. I packed lightly and headed off at about 10 after eating as much free breakfast as felt acceptable.
There was only a small section of real road to navigate before getting down on the the cycle tracks which hugged the river, but still enough time for me to get honked at twice. Perhaps the downside of having a country with spaces so well engineered for cyclists is that cars feel even more strongly that the roads belong to them.
I crossed over Han River, past Seonyudo park, then and took stairs down to meet the bike track. The air was slightly misty and bridges and other objects disappeared into the grey water and skies. The tracks were already busying with riders – a mix of commuters and older cyclists taking it slowly. I got a few nods and curious sideways looks. I saw no other cycle tourists like me.
Underneath a number of bridges were outdoor gyms, and every few miles were toilets, 7-Elevens, makeshift cafes and bike shops. Everything you need to carry on riding.
The miles passed easily. Without having to permanently think about direction or route, your mind becomes free to focus on other things and have other thoughts such as ‘That bridge looks nice’ at one end of the scale, to ‘My balls hurt’ on the other.
After about 10 miles I saw my first bike passport stamp booth. Part of the reason for me cycling to the very start of the route was to buy the South Korean Cross Country Road Tour Passport which you could fill with stamps the length of the country. Booths like this dot the route and apparently if you showed your full passport to someone at the end (i’m not exactly sure who) you received a sticker or even a medal. I didn’t want to get too swept up in the ‘got to catch ‘em all’ mentality but the passport was beautifully designed and would perhaps provide a little incentive for me if my spirits got low.
I reached Incheon at around midday. The start of the route was marked by various signs, and boards containing maps, set against the plain industrial backdrop of the port. I took a photo for a group of Koreans cycling together and asked them where I could buy the passport. I followed a guy with a speaker attached to his frame playing loud K-Pop to a building across from the start and paid 4,500 KRW inside at a large marble reception. I took it back to the booth and stamped it. The ink was purple and bright and I blew it to help it dry.
I ate some wafers and drank a Pocari Sweat, tried and failed too take a good selfie at the start line, then cycled back into Seoul.
Korean cyclists seemed to have a different approach when it came to bikes and gear. Instead of everything being packed into panniers like mine their bikes had a multitude of different pouches and specially shaped pockets to hold each individual item presumably in the most effective and efficient way on the frame. Many had full suspension of fat wheel bikes, despite the track being flat and well surfaced. A few more had small Korean flags poking from the handlebars or fans which span gently in the breeze as the cycled. I decided i’d try and document my fellow cyclists and their bikes whenever the opportunity came going forward.
The light was clearer and brighter now the bridges looked especially nice. I listened to Modest Mouse and kept my head down and it didn’t take long for me to get back alongside the Han River, and in the city again.
I locked my bike back out on the roof of the hostel, showered and stared at my phone for a bit, then headed out for lunch, and a coffee at Anthracite – a shoe factory turned cafe, a beautiful space and probably the best coffee i’ll have for a while. I drank the coffee and wrote this as it got dark outside and my anxieties crept back in.
Highs
- Making it out of bed, on to my bike, and to the start and getting the first two stamps in my ‘passport’
- Seeing so many other people cycling and enjoying themselves
- The colour spectrum: the pastel bridges, the light yellow grasses, and the brightly coloured playground equipment at the side of the track.
- Finally writing a blog post
- When a Brendan Benson song came on my Spotify playlist and I got a little nostalgic; the last time I listened to it was probably 2008 whilst I was finishing my degree
Lows
- Accidentally packing one glove and one sock, instead of a pair of gloves
- Knowing that my bike will weigh about twice as much tomorrow with all my belongings attached to it
- GoPro battery drying
Map (via Strava)