If you're willing to eat a mashed potato sandwich then you're ready to cycle across South Korea

Absolutely ravenous and not exactly smelling as fresh as a daisy I stared blankly at the food in the petrol station chiller cabinet in front of me. I was trying to pull off the air of a clean and polite trans-Korean cyclist in front of the freshly scrubbed till operator but I’m not sure he was buying it. In fact, as he kept darting in and out of the back room, I’m pretty sure he was either gasping for breath or checking his box of air freshener and calculating just how much he would need to deploy on my departure.

Trying to compute what was in front of me was a struggle. I was hot and tired and the only luncheon dining options appeared to be:

·       A mashed-potato sandwich 

·       A garlic scrambled-butter sandwich

·       Two 15-hour roasted eggs

Not exactly what I’d had in mind.

To be fair, this was the first time that the glorious trans-Korean bike adventure had hit a hitch which was a feat in itself. For a start, I’m not a cyclist and secondly, last time I looked I still can’t speak any Korean.

Still, what I lack in skill I make up for in enthusiasm and on reaching the age of 50 I’d declared that no thanks I didn’t want a party (too much work) but together with my oldest friend I was going to cycle from the top to the bottom of South Korea instead.

Why?

Well - why not?  I think is more the question you have to ask yourself.

South Korea – lightyears ahead in technology, hot movie stars and cycle-paths

For those that don’t know (and to be honest, this seems to be everyone), South Korea has firstly, the earth’s hottest movie star in the shape of Hyun Bin and secondly the world’s most incredible cycle networks. Spanning the entire country, from north to south, east to west and even the remote Shinan Islands they snake everywhere. No other country can compete. Cue, please, a big round of applause for this forward planning nation.

(Also, please, cue a round of applause for Mr Bin’s remarkably symmetrical features).

The most established route, and the one I’d suggest for any bike-softie is the Four Rivers Trail. Created by K-Water this 633km path follows the Han, Nakdong, Geum and Yeonsang Rivers from Seoul in the north to Busan on the southeast coast. The entire way is on tarmacked, smooth  designated cycle track. With especially built cycle-bridges over rivers, raised paths above paddy fields and clear signage throughout it’s an engineering masterpiece.

Other than a few connecting stretches of road there are no cars. Try and find something else in the world on this scale? Yeah, best of luck with that….  

Why join a group when you can go it alone?

There are many ways to cover the kilometers from Seoul to Busan. The first is obviously to go by train. The second, and for those looking for a little more exercise, is to mount a trusty two-wheeled steed and pedal your way there. If you don’t want to go solo, join an organized group with a guide who will lead you on all the right (and left) turns, help fix any punctures, and crucially, ensure your dining options don’t end up in front of an SK gas station chiller cabinet.

However, as my friend Suze had declared, ‘I’m not being funny Heth but if we join a group we’ll be stuck with a load of male cyclists all discussing derailleurs’ we had taken the more questionable option of going free-range.

Not wanting to end up North Korea though, we had enlisted the skills of Max Kim, a Korean ex-navy seal who runs an excellent cycle company (with the military precision you might expect and array of Hawaiian shirts that you might not expect). Supplying bikes, GPS files and luggage transfers we could pretend to go it alone, but in reality all we really needed to do was join up the dots he’d carefully laid out.

Needless to say, which of course we failed to do within the first ten minutes.

How not to cycle around Seoul

It is hard to express just how average I am on a bike and thus how if I can do it, anyone can. However, to give you an idea, starting in central Seoul, so keen were we to whizz off to Yeoju that at 8am we looked at the map for about three seconds and then zoomed off at an angle that was exactly 180o from where we should have been heading. Now are you getting my drift?

Moreover, on quickly discovering that to actually use our GPS files we needed to pay for a specialist app (because no we hadn’t researched it and yes, we had accidentally left Suzie’s Garmin charging beside the toaster) the next fifteen minutes were spent with me wobbling precariously one-handed on my bike whilst trying to input my credit card details onto my phone with the other.

This however is where Koreans could teach everyone a thing or two about road usage. Despite the fact I was cycling like a clown, cars gave cyclists space, cyclists gave cars space, moped drivers smiled and waved, we bowed back. Everyone was considerate and nobody was even close to getting hurt. After 40 minutes of rush hour Seoul we hit the Han River, turned left on the path and before long skyscrapers gave way to open spaces, farmland and forested hills.

 We’re on the road to nowhere (sung loudly on your bike please à la Talking Heads).

As the name suggests, The Four Rivers Cycle path winds roughly southeast along Korea’s main waterways. As well as long river stretches, the track weaves through paddy fields, apple and persimmon orchards, small farming settlements (where there is always at least one farmer on a three-wheeled tractor) and woodland. Other than day two when you climb over Bird Pass, a 6-mile up but rewarded by a glorious 10 mile down, it is entirely flat.

Keen cyclists would do the route in three or four days, but as we were not that keen we chose to do it over a week, with a rest day in the middle. This meant about 100Km a day which sounds like a lot. It is a bit, but its easy cycling and this is for why.

Firstly, we went in one of Korea’s optimum cycling months - October - and the temperature was around 22 to 25℃ each day with blue skies and a gentle breeze – ideal conditions. (other great months are April, May and September).

Secondly, the paths themselves were quiet, smooth and pot hole free (yes! Not a single one! Imagine that!!). Bike-repair stands and clean toilet blocks are spaced at regular intervals so you can cycle at your own pace, stopping when you want.

Thirdly, in your panier you have (said in a Star Wars voice please) ‘The Bike Passport’. This little booklet is given to each cyclist at the start to collect stamps at designated checkpoints along the way. They are easy to spot as not only are they located in red telephone boxes but there is always a group of overexcited cyclists hanging around. BAM! Whacking a beautiful purple stamp on a page is immensely satisfying. At the end you gain a certificate. Or, if you want to go really mad, fill out a confusing 12-page online form in Korean to apply for a shiny medal!

And finally, cycling in Korea is safe. Oh so safe. Aside from the willingness of everyone to help even the most incompetent of tourists this is a country where students leave their laptops in their bags, in their bike baskets, unlocked, on a random pavement while they nip into the coffee shop for a drink. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it myself in the university town of Sangju. Need I say more?

Watch out for the mirrored ceilings – it’s another Love Motel

So the days are easy but what of the nights? At around 4pm we’d roll into our designated town for the night, think Clint Eastwood x 2 on bikes. Yeoju, Suambo, Sanju, Daegu and Namji are not even vaguely on the tourist trail but have a wide variety of accommodation options nonetheless. We’d asked for cheap and cheerful. Max had stuck diligently to the brief and booked us into the most cost effective accommodation which was of course – the Love Motel.

These marvelous establishments, while looking supremely dodgy on the outside are in fact spotlessly clean on the inside. Plus, they have cheap perfume in reception, condoms in the bedroom and if you’re really lucky a mirror on the ceiling. But, the most exciting thing of all to the dirty cyclist? Endless piping hot water. 

Spicy stir-fried octopus anyone?

So the cycling is easy and nights relaxing. But as any cyclist worth his pump and puncture will tell you, the most important element of any trip is the food.

Korean food is diverse and exciting and pedaling along you can sample the entire spectrum. Mid-morning bakery stops were essential for large slabs of cream cake (me) or pumpkin bread and jam (Suzie). Lunchtime was usually a small café where we’d try and gesture to the ever-patient owners that we’d like the least spicy option but where we’d invariably get a hot stir-fried octopus that would set our lips on fire. Then, in the afternoon, how does a kimchi pancake from a little roadside caravan suit you? All the options tend to be made fresh that day, affordable and all tend to be spaced at regular intervals.

Unless that is, you’re on day three, between Suanbo and Sangju, cycling high above a remote reed-bed and the only two cafés for miles are BOTH closed for family birthday parties. ARRGHHHHH.

Which brings me to here, three miles off-route, searching like a hungry hyena for a scrap to eat. And glaring into the frozen abyss of the SK Gas Station chiller cabinet.

Suzie had prowled the aisles already and WHAM, quickly captured the last tuna-mayo kimbap. That left me, desperate and about to reach for the mash-mashup when the corner of my eye caught the glint of a hot water urn on the sunny windowsill. And, if you know your Korean convenience stores (as I did by then) where there is a hot-water urn there is always, oh joy of all joys…. a pot noodle shelf.

Lunging for one of the large tubs lurking in the shadows I pounced, ripped off the lid and scalded it immediately with hot water from the urn. Soon the smell of the noodles gently stewing filled the air. Taking some chopsticks, a paper napkin and paying the frantically waving attendant (I hadn’t closed my lid properly and the Korean’s take their noodling seriously) I stepped outside to join my friend. Finding a warm corner of concrete on the station forecourt we sat, food in our laps, cold Coke by our sides and filled our stomachs.

The day was good. The day was great.

And I’d been saved. By a pot noodle.