‘씨발놈아!’, was what I would have said if I could swear in Korean. One of my rear panniers had fallen off, again, the third time since I started cycling less than 10 minutes before. I had delayed leaving yesterday due to a Soju and vitamin water induced hangover picked up outside a 7-11 in Ittaweon late on Friday night. It was now Sunday, but Saturday night was still visible in the few people emerging dazed on the streets of Hondae, those starting the clean up operation, and the patch of orange coloured vomit on the hostel stairs. Reluctantly I stayed in the night before, and now, at 10am, I was finally cycling, three or four days later than planned.
I took my bike down the three flights of stairs from the hostel balcony to the street below, taking care to navigate the vomit, and attached my gear. This was the first time i’d ridden with all four panniers fully loaded, plus the tent and dry bag on the back. The bike handled like a tank and was going to take some time to get used to, but I pushed away unceremoniously through Hondae towards the river to join the path where i’d left it a couple of days before.
The first time the pannier fell off was outside a 7-11. Then in the middle of a pedestrian crossing. My patience was being tested. I stopped by a petrol station to try and fix it on again and bought breakfast from a stall selling some kind of fried egg sandwich, apparently quite popular here. I made it down to the river, cautiously avoiding any bumps in the road, which was obviously not a sustainable strategy. When the pannier came off again I began to doubt how i’d make any progress at all. My only option was to tighten the bungee straps i’d been using to hold everything in place. I hooked them on as far as I could to the opposing sides of the rack, trying to put visions of my eyeballs being ripped out of their sockets by the black plastic hooks to the back of my mind. It seemed to have worked and the first few miles began to slowly pass.
Already the cycle paths felt familiar from my ride a few days ago, now all I had to worry about was my bike not disintegrating, eating and drinking enough, and finding somewhere to sleep. This was what I had been looking forward to. When you’re backpacking it can feel like only 30% of the time is actual ‘travel’. Planning makes up another 20%, packing and unpacking 10% and the rest is split between waiting to go somewhere, and then getting there (bus, train, taxi). What drew my to cycling, amongst other things, is that it seemed like a more complete experience, as in every moment you’re ‘travelling’, rather than dealing with what surrounds it. This is simplifying things, but it was already beginning to feel satisfying looking at my progress on the map.
After going to the effort of obtaining the cycle passport I somehow managed to miss the 3rd and 4th stamping booths. This was annoying but I was just happy that my bike appeared to be staying in one piece now. It was getting close to midday and lots of people were out cycling on their finely tuned machines. My bike felt cumbersome and I wasn’t wearing enough lycra to fit in. I refused to stop until i’d got a little further out of the city, though it was tempting to have a coffee in the sun close to Gangnam where people walked their small cute dogs and kites flew.
The number of people on the track began to thin out and the city began to suburbanise a little. The landscape became more open as skyscrapers gave way to mountains and small fields. A few football pitches and baseball fields. I was genuinely sad to leave Seoul behind, but I knew i’d come back at some point, and the further away I got the easier it would be to focus fully on my ride instead of other distractions.
Time passed slowly, or at least the miles did, and I delayed having any lunch until I crossed a bridge at Paldang at around 2pm. I made the mistake of stopping at the first place I saw and paid 6000W for instant noddles and a small bottle of ice coffee. As it turned out the next 5 – 10 miles had an abundance of small trackside snack shops, cafes and restaurants. A sign for ‘handmade burgers’ filled me with regret.
The cycle track began to run parallel to the train track and passed through a series of tunnels dug through the mountain, mirroring the larger train tunnels above. Tunnels led to wooden bridges the scenery changed too, the river widened and stacks of small mountains faded through the afternoon haze.
Some scenes from inbetween places
It was more rural now and I began to think about where i’d spend the night. Options in Korea include motels, small homestays and saunas (Jimjilbang’s), but I was determined to camp at least a little to justify the weight I was dragging behind me on the bike. I had a slightly broken conversation at the next stamping booth with a guy about to get the train back to Seoul after a day riding with friends. He suggested that I try by the river for a camp spot. I followed the track around and it led to a spit of land, a small waterside park which looked ideal. A few people were fishing and some elderly people played something resembling golf in a large grassy square in the middle. Once the park had emptied a little I found a spot.
In the hour before sunset I put up my tent, locked my bike to a nearby tree, then made two bowls of instant noodles for dinner – the same kind i’d had for lunch, and one cup of coffee. It was basic but enough.
I’d covered nearly 50 miles but oddly didn’t feel tired, I felt comfortable and my mind felt relatively clear. My stove is wood burning, and the simple act of looking on the ground for sticks, then gradually feeding these inside to keep it going was enough to satisfy me.
I heard a plane pass in the sky above and I wondered if they could see the little fire I was building.
Highs
- General sense of optimism and actually starting
- Overtaking cyclists with much less crap attached to their much nicer bikes
- Finding a camping spot at the right time
Lows
- Using the toilet in the park I camped in – upon entering the lights came on and classical music began to play. Perhaps not threatening during daylight hours, but at night, alone, this was truly terrifying
Playlist
Map (via Strava)