If you missed it: on the Shimanami Kaido we met Stephan, a retired American living on Oshima island, who told us about a bike route spanning the entire length of South Korea. This is what happened next.
국토종주The Four Rivers Route: Seoul to Busan
A bit of background: South Korea has a massive network of bike paths all through the country, sponsored by K-Water. You can apply for a bike passport from the Ministry of the Interior and collect stamps posted at intervals along the various routes. The stamps are housed in bright red British-style telephone booths. The big four routes are the Four River Paths (following the four major rivers), the Jeju Fantasy Path (circling Jeju island), the Cross Country Route (633km between Seoul and Busan), and the Grand Slam (collecting every stamp in the entire country).
I have a love for anything that even mildly resembles a scavenger hunt. The stamps scratched that itch. Collecting them all became a very important part of this bike ride, so upon starting our journey south, I made Ryker backtrack 12 miles to get the starting stamps I’d missed. Does biking 633km even count if the Ministry of the Interior doesn’t give its stamp of approval? Our first day quickly ballooned into a 72-mile ride.
We were quickly humbled.
I had never biked under load and had completely failed to account for the extra strain of carrying an additional 30 to 40 pounds. On top of that, Ryker was biking the slowest he had ever biked in his life. Normally Ryker, Mr. Good at Everything Athletic on the First Try, would be lapping me. Not this time. He was trailing far behind, and I was genuinely worried. He kept assuring me everything was fine.
Then it clicked. This had happened to me once before. The brake pads were too tight, constantly brushing against the tires, killing all momentum and making every pedal stroke harder. It’s an insidious malfunction because the rider just thinks they’re getting weaker. We tested Ryker’s bike 40 miles in, and sure enough: brake pads. We needed a 3mm hex wrench to fix it. We typed our request into Google Translate and went about begging better-prepared cyclists for help. (Dad, if you are reading this: we did buy a full bike repair kit from the rental place. It did have hex wrenches. None were the right size. Our unpreparedness was not entirely our fault. We had made an attempt.)
A kind man took pity on us.
By 6:30pm we were 52 miles in, staring down a sunset, with a two-to-three hour ride ahead of us in the dark. We made the completely reasonable decision to abandon our hotel, book another one in town, and go have a beer.
One important logistical note: many cyclists book their accommodation the day of, around lunch, based on where they think they’ll end up. The constraint isn’t the number of hotels, it’s the geography. There are 10 to 20 mile stretches with nothing but farmland or mountains. A detailed plan isn’t required, but completely winging it is also not the move.
Day two we stopped at a town known for stone pot rice. The Koreans take their banchan side dishes very seriously, and our table was quickly covered with over 12 small plates: kimchi, tiny anchovies with almonds, bulgogi beef, sweet crab. Lunch for the books.
Day three we were getting in the swing of things. Our main lesson: bring enough water and snacks. We biked until 2pm before realizing we’d eaten nothing but a pastry and an espresso. Carbs become friends, not enemies, on a ride like this. I would highly recommend endurance sports purely for the permission to eat whatever you want.
Our days started to blur together. Hard beds, ten hours of biking, a new food we’d never heard of for dinner. I loved having a goal set out each day, a simple one: bike as far as you can. It let my brain turn off and just enjoy the beautiful sunshine, the lush green rice fields, the childlike thrill when a thunderstorm rolled through and soaked us for two hours straight. The cycling community was wonderful. Locals out for day rides would stop to chat, ask for photos, or hand us a banana. We discovered grandparent-style living rooms that had been converted into coffee shops, tucked into exactly the right locations.
We passed the time staring at scenery, chatting, calling loved ones, and listening to audiobooks. I finished the entire 21-hour mammoth that is Dune. Ryker kept working through the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. The most recent edition just came out and I’m hoping we can read it in tandem.
The big challenge everyone warned us about was the mountain on day four. At 2,800 feet of elevation it was daunting, but we knew about it going in and had mentally prepared. The grade was just bikeable. We conquered it and were rewarded with stunning views, a whole valley laid out below us, and another stamp. Plus a five-mile cruise downhill.
What we were not prepared for was day six, when we had to climb not one, not two, but three hills with grades so steep we couldn’t fathom biking and ended up pushing our bikes and all our gear up every single one. The only upside was that the slower pace meant we made new friends: a Korean and an Australian, both 60-plus and retired, which is basically the entire demographic of long-distance cycling.
Day seven, the final day, was by far the hardest mentally. We had about 50 miles left to Busan. Getting on that bike that morning, I wanted nothing more than a big bed and a long sleep. But I am not a whiney little bitch, so I mounted up and we took off.
The plan was to stop for coffee and breakfast along the way, but Ryker’s chosen spot was close as the crow flies and far as the rider bikes, involving an out-and-back across a river. So we didn’t eat for the first 20 miles. But then came food, coffee, and our friends from the day before cheering us on. Miles 20 to 35 flew by.
At mile 35 we hit the last stamp before the final completion stamp. I pulled up the map and discovered a problem. Our hotel, strategically booked near the bus station we’d need the next day, was much further from the end of the trail than I’d realized. I had 20 miles left in me, not the 40 it would take to complete the trail and reach the hotel. It was a Friday, so bikes weren’t allowed on public transit. We decided to bike to the hotel and then Uber to the final stamp.
What I had not anticipated was how much harder it is to bike on city roads and highways after six days of being coddled by a beautiful isolated bike trail. A few miles in I became the whiney little bitch I had specifically promised myself I would not be. I ran out of water and sat down on the side of a highway, genuinely unsure how to continue.
Ryker jumped into action, biked a couple of extra miles to get me water, electrolytes, and snacks. The fuel did it. We pushed through, glided into the hotel, and then Ubered to the Ministry of the Interior to collect our medals and certificates of completion.
633 kilometers. 393 miles. Seven days.
I hope to one day go back to Korea and complete the Grand Slam. Maybe after some training. Biking across Korea has been one of my favorite things Ryker and I have done on this entire trip. I love a challenge, an athletic goal, seeing somewhere new from ground level. The nighttime dinners where we waddled exhausted into the nearest restaurant and Google Translated our way through a menu where we didn’t recognize a single thing will go down as some of my favorite meals. Everyone we met treated us with kindness and genuine appreciation that we were there. People thanked us for visiting Korea. That has never happened to me anywhere else.
It only took a five-hour bus ride to retrace our route from Busan back to Seoul, plus a three-mile ride to return the bikes. The universe decided to humble me one last time with a flat tire. Too tired to deal with it, we walked the bikes back.
Then it was time to let our muscles recover, in style, at the JW Marriott.
서울Seoul
Fun fact: Ryker loves credit card points and bank bonuses, and now that he isn’t working he has ample time to pursue his favorite hobby. I, in exchange for giving him access to my social security number and being his wife, get to reap the benefits. In this case he scored us a five-night stay at the JW Marriott Seoul for $95 total, for a room that normally runs $400 a night. Since he booked under his name with his points, I couldn’t be the primary on the reservation, which meant we’d lose all my Platinum Marriott status perks. But Ryker sweet-talked the front desk and walked away with a room upgrade, lounge access including nightly cocktails and small bites, free breakfast, spa and sauna passes, and gym access. I am very well cared for. Choose your partner wisely.
Shopping
Both Ryker and I were tired of looking like we could spontaneously break out into a hike at any moment, a common side effect of keeping all your belongings under 20 pounds. We made the very adult decision to start slowly acquiring some new outfits, and Korea obliged. See photos.
We also went to the famous Olive Young, got our skin analyzed, and used Claude to sort through the massive amount of products available to build new skincare routines for both of us. I also picked up some face masks because I want to be that person on the airplane.
After our medical checkup in Thailand, I had been chasing down specific supplements to support some hormonal goals, and Korea delivered on that front as well.
Baseball
We went to Jamsil Baseball Stadium. From our time in Japan we already knew Asia takes baseball very seriously. The Korean stadium has different rules from American ones. The biggest difference: you can bring in outside food and drinks up to 6% ABV. The crowds are split into home and away sections and further divided into a cheering section.
Emotions ran high as the home team pulled ahead. A fight broke out between almost all the players. We had a corndog, a hotdog, and some tteokbokki.
Walking
Honestly, most of what we did in Seoul was walk around. It’s insanely easy to get around and I preferred the buses to the metro because you actually get to see the city. Seoul is huge but each neighborhood has its own personality.
Eating
We were trying to limit excess calories in preparation for Croatia beach season in three months, so while we ate well, we didn’t eat a lot. Three meals stood out.
The first: cheeseburgers, but the memorable part was the gloves. They gave us gloves to eat them with. Gloves to eat a burger are life-changing. They give you full permission to be messy, to really commit to a burger, to give it the proper attention it deserves. I will be buying disposable gloves going forward and raising future children to believe this is standard practice. Anyone eating a burger without gloves is a classless peasant.
The second: a Korean specialty, chicken stuffed with rice then splayed open on a cast iron skillet so the rice gets a perfect crispy crust. We left not a single crumb and came back the next day and ordered the exact same thing. I am determined to learn to cook this.
The third and best: a restaurant specializing in makgeolli, a slightly sweet Korean rice wine. Think sake, but Korean. This place was known for honeycomb makgeolli, where they drop a massive, dripping piece of honeycomb directly into your glass. We also got kimchi stew. What a pairing.
さよならThe End of Asia
Ryker and I are starting a new chapter: European Summer. Where will we go? We genuinely don’t know yet. What we do know is the Schengen Zone is the enemy, so expect to see us in countries you probably haven’t thought about in a while, like Kosovo.
More soon.