I stay up watching Seinfeld until 2am which makes it hard to have an early start. But by 10 I had my things finally packed up and left the temporary comfort of the motel for the now familiar semi-comfort of my bike. I passed by the supermarket on my way out of town and picked up some supplies, determined to cook more than just instant noodles for the rest of my time here. I buy enough food to hopefully last me 3 days, most of the way to Busan.
The paths out of the city are flat and straight and I make up for the time spent in bed. I try not to get hung up on numbers and self-quantification but i’ve been tracking my ride using Strava and manage to cycle around 12 mph instead of my average of 10 for most of the morning. It’s a small improvement but noticeable in the distance i’m covering before I break. A day of rest has also helped my legs recover slightly, and refreshed my mind. Yesterday I shared this blog and some photos with friends for the first time, having been reluctant to do so until i’d actually started, knowing though previous experience that the moment I tell someone i’m going to do something it inevitably doesn’t happen. The response it got has actually encouraged me more than I could have imagined.
I listen to Marquee Moon and Kaputt in full and make few stops until a lunch break near Sangpong, leading up to which are a series of wooden tracks which feel like riding on an old rollercoaster or ski track. The day passes quite quickly and easily, and the route is pretty but unremarkable at first. More rivers, bridges and grassland.
I see snake squashed on the road and I wonder how long it’s been there and if i’ll run into any alive ones. Two small angry dogs block my path and temporarily stop me cycling. Dogs were a lot more placid in Central America, they are loud and angry here, even if they are small and look friendly from a few bicycle lengths away.
Sangju Bicycle Museum is one attraction in this part of the route. I stop briefly but the weather is good and I don’t have the urge to peak inside.
“Solitude? It’s just fancy loneliness”
The quote above is from Kumiko The Treasure Hunter. A beautifully shot, semi-true story about a girl from Tokyo’s lonely quest to find the treasure buried by Steve Buscemi’s character in Fargo.
I realise now that i’ve not had a conversation with anyone in about 5 days. I’m ok with this but it’s odd when I dwell on it. Thanks to the internet i’ve exchanged words with friends in London, elsewhere in Europe, and America, but some real human contact would be good. English speaking locals are hard to find in the middle of the country.
Thankfully that evening I meet Matt, a fellow cycle tourer, who’s been on the road for around two years now. I was expecting to meet a lot more foreigners travelling along the same route, but until now i’ve only seen locals. It’s early in the year still to cycle, only just warming up to a comfortable cycling/camping temperature, and South Korea is still a relatively obscure destination for this kind of thing, despite the brilliant infrastructure in place.
Matt left Busan when I left Seoul. I saw his bike and gear on a pagoda to the side of the track, but there was no-one there so I cycled on for a bit, but stopped, looked back, and there he appeared from a toilet in the corner of the rest area. He had started setting up his camp on the pagoda and after thinking about carrying on to try and hit the 50 mile mark again I decide to stay and put up my tent next to his. The pagoda is the perfect size for two tents, with room for panniers and cooking stuff at the side. It’s also raised off the ground which hopefully makes it slightly snake safe – the dead one i’d seen still playing on my mind.
We talk about Korea and our routes so far. He’s been in South America, on a boat to Tahiti, and cycled again in Taiwan , China, Japan, now Korea, then hopefully onto Russia and Mongolia and back to his home, France, through Eastern Europe. Hearing of other people’s travels always puts yours in perspective. The journey he’d been on was reflected in the faded red canvas of his panniers and the care and accuracy with which he had unpacked and laid out their contents. I had less belongings but mine tumbled out on the floor in a heap, and looked too new to belong to someone who knew what they were doing.
We each cooked dinner, and talked about the highs and lows you feel when travelling like this. I sensed we both needed the company and he said he was glad that I had turned back when he caught me stalling in the distance.
Later he shows me his map of Japan, somewhere I’m also thinking of cycling. It’s got his route crudely drawn in red marker pen and some notes surrounding the land. It made me think how much I’d been relying on my phone for guidance, where as he seemed to have been following his nose and observing the terrain a little more.
At around 8 we go to our tents. It is windy but my weight holds it down. I can feel the hard wooden floor of the pagoda under my sleeping mat, but sleep slightly more comfortably knowing there is someone else sharing that same floor.
Playlist
Destroyer – Chinatown, Radio Dept – Always a Relief, Young Braised – Murakami
Map (via Strava)
