← PreviousWhen nothing goes to planIn cognitive psychology, studies have shown that bad memories last much longer than good ones. We remember bad experiences for a long time, less so the good ones. We'll remember this Saturday for the rest of our lives. The rain drumming on the roof of the Rivers Hotel in Yeoju should perhaps have tipped us off.
It has eased by the time we get up, and it's barely drizzling when we set off towards Chungju. We get a little wet but nothing too bothersome. We make do with what we have to cover Clémence's trailer properly: a big towel and a bin bag split in two, carefully fixed to the frame. She doesn't feel the rain, but we do, and we decide to stop an hour later when we spot a cosy café to warm up in. Because yes, as well as drizzling, it's cold! Barely two days ago it was over 30 degrees, and this morning the thermometer is hovering around 15!
We ride up a pretty gravel drive, park our bicycles under cover and go in. Two women are at the counter; they make us an excellent hot chocolate, two coffees and some very good waffles. They're very welcoming and ask if we'd agree to have our photo taken. We say yes and the manager brings out a Polaroid. She takes several photos until she's satisfied, which makes us laugh a lot.
The rain doesn't stop, so we borrow bin bags to make Stéphane a rain jacket, wrap up anything that could get wet and set off determined to face the elements. Unfortunately, after ten metres Cassandre gives Stéphane some bad news: his front tyre is flat. We find it strange, as it was riding perfectly an hour ago. We have no choice but to change the faulty inner tube. Fortunately we travel with the necessary repair kit, including a great compact travel compressor given to us by Cassandre's dad. You set the pressure you want and it pumps up your tyres in a few seconds without you doing anything (it works on car tyres too!). No need to wear yourself out with a pump. A few minutes later, we're off again with a reinflated tyre.
But barely five kilometres later, the same front tyre lets out a worrying hiss. Stéphane is riding that bike at the time. Looking and listening closely, we can clearly see very sharp micro-cuts in several places on the tyre. We stop at a fork, and a man asks us what's wrong. We can only see that the tyre is completely dead, slashed in lots of places. He wants to pump up the inner tube again, but we already know it's pointless, as it's the tyre that's the problem. Meanwhile, a small crowd gathers around us. Every cyclist passing by stops to ask what's wrong. Solidarity among cyclists seems to work wonderfully.
But nobody can help us. The man tries putting patches directly on the tyre, but it makes no difference; it's punctured in too many places. We're now sure it was the gravel on the café drive that did for it. But what to do? We're in the middle of nowhere. The man is sorry he can't help more and goes on his way. On Naver, the Korean Google Maps, we find a route to our destination. We need to catch a bus a kilometre's walk away. We have no choice, so we head there in the rain.
In the open countryside, there's a little bus shelter in front of a disused building. It's hard to say what it used to be, but it reeks of abandonment. We look for information and find the timetable: a number 55 bus is supposed to come around 1:30 pm, and it's 1 o'clock. Out of nowhere, an old man is now sitting on a chair next to us. He doesn't look very friendly, so Stéphane goes over to explain the situation using the translator on his phone. The old man confirms that a bus does stop here, and indeed we see one go by in the other direction. A good sign.
On the other hand, we have no idea whether we can take our bikes on a bus like this. As a precaution, we take off the panniers and lock both bikes firmly to a post, taking the tyre that needs changing with us, in case we can't bring the bikes on board. Strangely, the old man comes back and hands us some banknotes. 15,000 won in all, about ten euros. We're dumbfounded and don't understand, but he leaves almost straight away and comes back with three ice creams. We open one to please him and thank him for his generosity, but our hearts really aren't in it.
At last the bus arrives! So fast that it almost doesn't see us, even though we're waving our arms wildly to stop it. We ask the driver if we can bring our bikes on board; he hesitates, then nods. His bus is completely empty; we run to unlock the bikes, hurry to load everything and breathe a sigh of relief. We could already see ourselves having to come back tomorrow to fetch our bikes and losing a day. The bus to Wonju fills up sporadically, and we try to take up as little room as possible so people can sit down, which isn't easy with all our gear. Clémence is very sweet; she's understood the situation is tricky and keeps wanting to help.
An hour later we arrive at Wonju bus terminal. We unload all our things onto the pavement in double-quick time. All the Koreans waiting at the bus stop stare at us, baffled, wondering what on earth we're doing on a bus with all this. We decide to be strategic and split up: Stéphane goes to find a replacement tyre while Clémence and Cassandre let off steam at a nearby playground. At the first shop Stéphane goes to, they don't seem to understand what he's asking for.
Our wheels are adaptable, meaning they can take several tyre sizes, but the salesman doesn't seem to grasp this and insists on replacing the tyre with the same model. He's kind all the same and calls another shop to check their stock. The other one has a model that'll fit! Stéphane gets back on the bike and sprints over. But it's the same scene there: the salesman doesn't understand. Steph asks to see the different tyres available, finds a compatible size and asks if he can buy it. The salesman is sceptical, but never mind: he pays and heads back to the girls.
The three of us hurry to the bus terminal to catch another bus to Chungju, our destination for tonight. Two young soldiers escort us and hold the swing doors open for us into the terminal, because with two bikes and a trailer, holding doors isn't easy! We're thirty minutes early and can finally catch our breath. A bus arrives ten minutes before the scheduled departure time, so we hurry to load everything into the hold. It's a struggle to fit it all in, but with a bit of organisation (and muscle) it goes in! When Cassandre shows the tickets to the driver, he explains that no, it's not the right bus: this one goes to Cheongju, not Chungju!
Ours will arrive at the same bay in five minutes, so everything has to come out of the hold again! What a pain. Our bus arrives shortly afterwards. We load the hold a second time and get on. The bus is very clean and spacious. The seats are very comfortable and Clémence falls asleep as soon as we leave. In Chungju we take her straight off to play. The drizzle hasn't stopped, but it's easing and perfectly bearable. Stéphane takes the opportunity to fit the new tyre, which works perfectly. Fortunately the day ends on a good note, as tonight's cheap hotel is much nicer than in the photos and the room is spacious with two beds. We'll be able to really rest after a hellish day.
On the road