← PreviousRiding up the east coastOur legs are starting to feel heavy. We're not keeping count, but we've probably already passed 1,000 kilometres by bike since arriving in South Korea. We've become more measured with age, and having a child slows you down anyway. That's why we're not pedalling this morning. The beach next to the guesthouse is too beautiful not to enjoy for one more morning. We eat a quick breakfast in the room and jump straight into the water.
Korea's east coast is truly sublime. We sometimes land on gorgeous beaches with turquoise water. Yet they're deserted, because Koreans are afraid of the water and expose themselves very little to the sun. When they do, they're covered practically from head to toe. After our paddle, we stop by the guesthouse to say goodbye to Song, our very friendly host for the night. We can't stop her giving Clémence yet more food, which she gladly accepts.
She devours a huge homemade chocolate cookie while we ride. It's sunny, the sky is spotless blue and the wind is warm. Maybe too warm, as the slightest climb has us sweating litres. Fortunately, today's stage is fairly "easy" despite a few hills, and we're almost done by 3 pm. It's a chance to enjoy another beach. We've suffered so much bad weather that we stretch out the time on the scorching sand.
We ride into Donghae in the early evening, and it's a shock to be back among tall buildings and heavy traffic. We even get stuck in traffic jams before arriving. Our hotel is at the top of one last climb that wrecks our legs. We make the most of being in town to shop in a very big hypermarket for tomorrow's breakfast and lunch, as we like to make the most of good weather to picnic at lunchtime.
Donghae (동해시), on the east coast of Gangwon Province, is a port city of about 90,000 inhabitants. It has two major ports, Donghae Harbor and Mukho Harbor, key to the coal, cement and seafood trade, and it also welcomes cruise ships. Surrounded by mountains and beaches like Mangsang, it's a lively mix of port activity, nature tourism and maritime culture.
We also buy new sliders for Clémence because, when you travel, you inevitably lose things, and we left Clémence's Crocs on a beach two days ago! Beach stops aren't practical when you have to put socks and trainers back on a three-year-old who can't keep still. In the children's sandal aisle, Clémence falls for yellow Pikachu sliders, a touch too big, but there's no point arguing: it'll be Pikachu, full stop. At least we know in advance what madam will be wearing for the days ahead…
Thursday 19 June
Summer is fast approaching, and it's already well and truly here in north-east Korea. It's already as hot as a desert at 9 am when we have breakfast in our room. We're only two days' ride from Sokcho, our destination and the end of the East Coast cycle route. North of this city of 80,000 people, there's only one village before the border with the North Korean enemy. We'd be lying if we said we could feel tension in the country. The threat is surely always there in the background for residents, but it's not at all palpable.
We leave Donghae behind without regret, but the city sprawls along the coast and it takes a while to leave the built-up area and get back to the wild coast we love so much. The cycle route follows the coast for a while; you could stop at every bend for a photo, it's so beautiful. After yet another pass (steep but short) that makes us sweat, we drop down to the little village of Jeongdongjin, home to a museum about time and a gigantic hourglass. Jeongdongjin station is also famous for its Guinness World Record as the station closest to the sea: 50 metres! Clémence is more passionate about building walls and hills in the sand than about culture, so we settle by the tiny river flowing into the sea. Here again the beach is very beautiful, with fine sand and crystal-clear water. The water is warm and time flies.
After two hours of lazing about, it's time to get back in the saddle, as we still have twenty-odd kilometres to go. This section is less smooth than the previous one; it's one climb and descent after another and we struggle to find a rhythm. A good half of it takes us through fields and rice paddies, landscapes we were used to between Seoul and Busan but which are rare on the coast. After 20 km, we finally reach the southern districts of Gangneung, the coast's second-largest city, which hosted part of the 2018 Winter Olympics and is a seaside resort much loved by Koreans. This part of the coast is more sought-after: the roads are busier and the cars more luxurious. Gone are the fishing villages and the simple-looking folk. We also find more aggressive driving, as if standard of living sometimes affected respect for other road users.
Gangneung (강릉시), on South Korea's east coast, has around 212,000 inhabitants. Famous for its beaches (Gyeongpo, Anmok), its seafront cafés and its traditional Danoje festival, listed by UNESCO, it combines nature, culture and Olympic heritage.
Three kilometres from the hotel, a nasty hissing sound comes from the bike Cassandre is riding. The rear wheel has a puncture. And yet it has a Schwalbe Marathon tyre, famous for being puncture-proof. Proof of that: it had never once had a flat in three years. Taking out the inner tube, we find a shard of glass expertly embedded in the tyre. That's our third puncture in three weeks, one for each part of our rig. The gravel bike's front wheel went two days after we left Seoul, one of the trailer wheels before we reached Busan, and now this one! Until now we'd only had one puncture ever while bike touring. Luck clearly isn't on our side, but fortunately we have everything we need to fix it and we're off again ten minutes later.
It doesn't even disrupt our original plan of going to the beach before checking into the hotel. We make the most of the sun, as we don't know what tomorrow's sky will bring.
Friday 20 June
Bike touring is made of the unexpected. By its very nature, it's a practice where you have to learn to let go. We have no shelter and move only by the strength of our legs. So when the forecast announces a day of rain, it's better to give in and learn to stay put. In South Korea we often get alerts that fill our whole phone screen to warn us about a dangerous individual, a missing person or violent weather. Today it's rain we're being warned about.
We decide to play it wise, book a much cheaper hotel a few streets away and set off to visit the city of Gangneung. First we stop at a historic temple, then head into the city centre, where we've spotted the perfect place for Clémence: a kids' café. The little one has grown up a lot and we can't hide anything from her any more; she's on the lookout for every one of our conversations. So she knows we're going, but what disappointment when we arrive to find the door locked. It's supposed to be open; she holds back her tears because she can see we're as surprised as she is. Luckily there's a playground right opposite, and she's starting to play half-heartedly when a car pulls up. A lady gets out and comes to open the café! Phew, we dash in and enter children's paradise.
It's a reasonably sized place but well laid out, with several themed areas. Clémence has fun for almost two hours, and we practically have to drag her away to eat. After lunch, Cassandre takes her to the Olympic museum while Stéphane looks for products to clean the bikes. But unlike France, there are no sports shops in Korea, and bike shops almost never have products for sale, apart from complete bikes. It's very frustrating, as you never know where to look for what you need. We end up in a sort of discount homeware store to find something to clean our chains.
The weather is gloomy, the clouds low and a grey turning black, but the sky only treats us to a passing drizzle. We could have ridden after all, but we've learned never to regret a decision made in the name of caution. We go to the new hotel and, surprise, the basement is a games room! There are ping-pong tables and lots of board games. We discover Clémence has an interest in tabletop games; she wants to try everything and picks up the rules very quickly. She plays with Mummy while Daddy goes for a run around the lake, then they swap, and we lose track of time.
It's already dark when we leave the hotel, but luckily there's a small self-service convenience store where you help yourself and pay at a machine. We feed her quickly before putting her to bed. She doesn't need persuading and falls asleep quickly.
Saturday 21 June
A rookie mistake. Yesterday we'd spotted some really cheap hotels in Sokcho for the few nights we want to stay there. But being the romantic, last-minute travellers we are, we decided to wait until the day itself to book, just to see whether we'd actually make it to our destination that evening.
Big mistake! Sokcho is a very popular destination for Seoulites, and as we're arriving on a Saturday, the rooms available yesterday aren't any more. Although Sokcho is literally on the other side of Korea from Seoul, the country is quite small, so the drive is quick: under two hours. We ride fast on the first part of the route, and by 11 we've already covered 25 of the day's 60 kilometres. Just before our first coffee stop, we catch up with two European-looking cycle tourists. We only have time to say hello — the man is French — before stopping. As usual, the café is huge, with high ceilings and big picture windows with sumptuous sea views.
We finally catch up with them just before lunch along Hajodae beach, one of the many surfing beaches along this part of the east coast. That's when we realise that despite our fairly heavy gear, we're still riding well. This time we have time to chat a bit. The man is from the Limousin, his partner is Dutch, and he's come to the same conclusion as us: Korea is a great country for bike travel. He has travelled in bike-friendly countries, yet he admits he's rarely seen such respectful drivers and such well-designed infrastructure. That's our feeling too, and we're even realising now that French drivers are terrorists on the road. Cycling in France, we've internalised being constantly put in danger. Here, nobody ever skims past us, and they always wait if they can't overtake. As if human life had a different value here than at home.
This part of the coast is a big surfing area; people come from far away, so it's logical that the beaches have a more laid-back vibe. We stop to eat at a surf bar where everything costs three times the usual price, but we have no other option. It lets us stop at the beach and bury our feet in the sand. Good thing we refuel, because the last part of the ride is no fun, with 15% slopes, zigzags along pavements to avoid the road and the fine rain that keeps us company. On top of that, the greenway is no longer scenic at all. We're constantly hemmed in between the road and a long strip of pine forest that separates us from the beaches and the sea. No horizon, no view. We just keep our heads down over the handlebars (quite literally).
We stop at yet another temple, but our hearts aren't in it; we just want to finally reach Sokcho. We do so at 5 pm, dropping our bags at the hotel we eventually found (far too expensive). We jump in the shower, into clean clothes, and back on the bikes to go to a new kids' café. Clémence is over the moon, and she's well deserved it. We leave for a quick meal before going home to put her to bed. It's been a long day for all three of us.
On the road