← PreviousWestward, all things newFriday 27 June
There are days that should never even begin. Days when everything goes wrong, when the sky falls on your head without warning. And yet it all started so well. After a good night's rest, breakfast goes peacefully; the little house overlooks the river, which is a little lower than yesterday. It's sunny and already hot, and our little routine for loading the bags is now perfectly honed and therefore very quick.
We ride to music for the first fifteen kilometres to a suspension footbridge. The climb up to it is very steep, but the view is worth the effort. Clémence walks almost the whole way up and the whole way down! At just three, she amazes us with her strength and stamina. Crossing the footbridge is very impressive, given its height and 360-degree panorama. We get back on the bikes, and we haven't ridden five kilometres when we hear a tyre burst! One of the trailer wheels has suddenly given out. It's our fourth puncture in a month; we're starting to think we're cursed.
Worse still, we realise we've lost the spare inner tube for the trailer and the patches. So we're stuck. A cyclist comes by at that moment and Stéphane flags him down to ask for help. Fortunately he's equipped, and he helps us repair the tyre and inner tube. We must have ridden over something particularly abrasive, as the tyre's rubber is damaged in several places. We thank him warmly and set off again, not very confident in our handiwork. To be safe, and to avoid putting too much pressure on the tyre, we decide to put Clémence on her little seat on the front of one of the bikes. She'll ride there until we're sure the tyre will hold.
What follows proves us right, as a few kilometres later the same bang rings out. Except when we stop, we see it's the other tyre that has gone. Despair washes over us: what have we done to deserve such bad luck? The marks on this wheel are the same as on the other, so we really did ride over an aggressive surface. We patch the inner tube and tyre with the remaining patches and pray we'll make it, as there's absolutely nowhere on this stretch to cool off or even find shade, and the heat is stifling. It holds for ten kilometres, long enough to reach a tourist spot. The restaurants there are overpriced, so we eat instant noodles and an ice cream out of the blazing sun.
Clémence copes brilliantly with all the mishaps; she always tries to help, sometimes a little too much, but it's always sweet. The tyre is flat again, a sign of a slow puncture. Stéphane pumps it up hard and wraps tape several times around the inner tube where the patch is to reinforce it before we leave. We arrive twenty kilometres later with the tyre at its last gasp, but it held. We'd planned to spend the whole afternoon at the train village, but after these setbacks our hearts aren't really in it, especially as it closes in just over an hour. We'd rather enjoy a big café-cum-playground with a huge landscaped lawn and water jets where Clémence loves dipping her little feet. We find on Google Maps that there's a bike shop less than a kilometre away, so Stéphane decides to try his luck. Thoroughly burned by our previous experiences, he doesn't expect a warm welcome.
Every rule has its exceptions. Not only does the old man have two 20-inch tyres and two inner tubes, but he gives us half of it for free! He gets us out of a real fix, as we were hatching plans to get parts in the big towns around, but that involved logistics that were already beyond us. We're so happy, as we can finally move on to tonight's hotel, though the last fourteen kilometres feel like an eternity. The road for cars is beautifully clear, showing almost no sign of the recent flood, but some sections of the cycle route are awful, full of branches. We even have to cross a gigantic pile of branches on foot. It's almost 7 pm when we finally arrive.
In Korea there are what are called "unmanned" hotels, without staff. You arrive and check in at a machine, pay (unless you've already paid online, if you booked through a platform like Agoda or Booking) and collect your key card to get into the room. Koreans love gadgets and electronics, in case you hadn't noticed. We've already stayed in several hotels like this, and each time we've struggled a bit to find our room. Tonight is no exception.
Luckily, a Korean on a bike arrived 30 seconds before us, so we ask for his help. He calls the (very kind) owner for us to ask which room is ours. After a few minutes on the phone, we find our card, which had simply been left on the counter. In the Korean countryside, restaurants close early: 8 pm, sometimes even 7. After a quick shower, dinner is at a table in a convenience store, with ready meals heated in the microwave. Let's hope tomorrow is another day!
Saturday 28 June
After the rain comes sunshine and after sunshine comes rain, the proverb used to say before global warming. Now after sunshine comes a heatwave, and that's what we experience as soon as we get up today. It's like a furnace from 9 am, which doesn't reassure us about how the day will go. The forecast says over 40 degrees today. The owner of the Ace Motel comes to say goodbye as we get the bikes ready. As Koreans always are, he's adorable and wishes us a good trip.
On the tarmac the temperature is horribly high, and we keep asking Clémence how she's doing. After about twenty kilometres, we reach a tiny village and stop to eat. In a shabby-looking restaurant, heads turn as we walk in, as usual. There are only men at the tables, but the atmosphere is nothing like when you find yourself in that situation in France. They smile and put us at ease straight away. One of them explains in a few words of English that there's no menu, just one dish. After our reply, he tells the owner that's fine for us.
In true Korean style, we're brought banchan as usual, the little side dishes with a whole variety of foods that accompany the main course. We're not quite sure what we're eating, but by following the rule red = spicy, we get by pretty well. When we pay, the owner tells us Clémence's meal is on the house. This child is showered with gifts in this country.
Barely a kilometre further on is the Seomjin River fish museum. It's not the kind of place on the perfect traveller's to-do list in Korea, but it's on our way and lets us catch our breath in an air-conditioned space. It's more of an aquarium than anything else, and Clémence loves watching the fish. There are lots of explanations in Korean about the river's fauna and flora, but they're not translated. Never mind; we're happy just watching the rays, big fish and turtles. There's also an outdoor otter pool, but the otters are missing. They've probably taken refuge somewhere cool too.
The museum also has a gigantic playground, but the rubber flooring adds even more degrees to a scorching afternoon. We ourselves can barely stand two minutes in the sun, so we wonder how Clémence manages to find the energy to run and climb everywhere. After five minutes of play, we have to explain to her that it's too dangerous. She doesn't grumble and we set off again. To spare ourselves, we seek out shade as much as possible. The heat is more bearable on the bike, as we're constantly moving air. A group of cyclists on time-trial bikes overtakes us at breakneck speed, giving us thumbs-up and saying "very strong" at the sight of our rig. We still stop at a café so air-conditioned we have to put jumpers back on inside.
We pluck up our courage and polish off the last kilometres into a headwind. We're done in when we arrive; the sweat running into our eyes is so salty it hurts. Fortunately, the Sol Motel is a stone's throw from a river beach. We spend an hour there alongside Koreans gathering little shellfish that look like clams. Looking for these little creatures in the sand amuses Clémence, so we join in too, and it captivates her. It's apparently a local speciality, as we see photos of them on restaurant fronts when we go out for rice burgers.
Sunday 29 June
The night wasn't very good, thanks to a nasty mosquito that got into the room somehow. Never mind; such a little creature isn't going to spoil our fun. It's still extremely hot when we go out for breakfast in town. The forecast says 42 degrees today, so we hope not to overheat and plan two good stops on the 43 km ahead. Bike touring is the humblest way to travel; it forces you to deal constantly with the elements. There's almost no fallback; you always have to juggle with what comes your way.
Before leaving the hotel, we fill our bottles with ice water and wet our helmets and caps. We explain to Clémence that she must tell us straight away if she's too hot and that she'll stay in the trailer today. No seat on the front of the blue bike for her today. The cycle route reaches the sea along with the river, but we turn off before. We follow a little-used road along picturesque farm tracks winding between rice paddies and reach our lunch stop in the little village of Okgok. It's Sunday and the village market is in full swing; faces light up with surprise as we pass with our bikes.
It's a typical covered market with stalls on all sides. They sell fish, fruit, clothes and all sorts of things. You can tell from the attention they pay us that they don't see many foreigners. In the little café where we have lunch, the waitresses are charmed by Clémence once again, and she earns another little savoury bun. Going round the stalls looking for apricots, we come across peaches that a man kindly gives us. Honestly…
We have a good twenty kilometres left to the hotel. We break up the effort when we spot water play features along the cycle path. Clémence hasn't missed them either and shouts, pointing them out from her trailer. What we first take for a simple playground turns out to be in the heart of a huge shopping centre. The place is beautiful, set in greenery, and we make the most of it to play like mad with the little one and all the little Koreans enjoying the cool jets like us.
When we set off again, there isn't much road left. The cycle path is superbly designed, the route pleasant, and we reach the hotel without a hitch. We shower and take our bags of dirty laundry to a launderette. It's exactly seven days since our last wash and the situation is becoming critical. Fortunately there's a kids' café right next door, which lets us combine business with pleasure. The place is huge; children could spend the whole day there. Cassandre takes advantage of Clémence having fun to buy nappies at the shop next door and collect the fresh laundry. We end the day at a modest little local restaurant, where once again we eat typical dishes.
We go to bed proud to have conquered our third South Korean cycle route. It wasn't the longest, but probably the prettiest. We had a tyre burst, lived through floods and a heatwave, but we made it to the end safely. Now, three days of rest!
The Seomjingang cycle path follows the Seomjin River for nearly 149 km, crossing four counties between Imsil and Gwangyang. Ranked among Korea's most scenic routes, it alternates between picturesque gorges, converted tunnels, historic pavilions and villages, all dotted with certification centres for cyclists. A perfect route for lovers of cycling, nature and local heritage.
On the road