A Cycling Story

Riding side saddle on a bike isn't something that you hear of often, and as I found out one September evening, is virtually impossible even when necessary. Alas, it was necessary as much as it was painful to sit my poor posterior on the gel-padded bike seat that had been my worst enemy that day.

I'd known about the Korean bike trails for some time, and always had the intention of doing it for myself one day. It is possible for one to cycle all the way from Seoul in the North West of South Korea to the nation's South East seaside city of Busan in eight days. Eight days for somebody accustomed to cycling, that is, which I convinced myself I was as I used to cycle daily as a teenager. That was was a few years ago now though, and I probably should have realised I wasn't exactly suited to committing to a four day, all day cycling trip halfway down the country to Andong.

The first challenge was actually finding a bike to ride there. My friend Andrew offered me his but it was more of a city bike (with thin wheels) and I pictured myself rattling along beaten paths and I didn't want to break the bike and/or myself, so I looked for another. I asked a teacher at my school and he had one.When I went to collect it from his house, I found out the bike wasn't his but his daughter's. His daughter was a student of mine at the time. Yes, I was borrowing a 12 year old girl's bike.

To my surprise, I found it quite comfortable and cycled away chirping a cheery goodbye. "I'll be back in four days!" I said. Little did I know that the bike and I wouldn't be friends for very long. I packed my bag that night with enough clothes for four days, my sleeping bag liner, and not much else save a couple of snacks for the road. Strapped to the outside of my bag was the tent that was to be my accommodation.

Bike and Bag: the two antagonists of this tale, looking menacing.

The next day began with an hour and a half on the train to my starting point in East Seoul. I got off to a great start by going in the wrong direction, and after being turned around and set on the right path, I was on my way to Andong. 'Success! I can do it! I'm actually doing this!' I told myself. I picked up a river cyclepaths passport along the way and spent the next six hours cycling (generally) towards Yangpyeong, my end point for day one. The idea with the passport is that you come across phone boxes along the way and stamp the checkpoints that you pass. I saw a lot of signs saying 'Phone box 1km away!' but rarely saw the actual phone boxes. I don't know how I managed to miss multiple bright red phone boxes amongst the natural green and brown surroundings, but I did.

At first it was easy and only a couple of times was I lost. I stopped and met some other cyclists and it seemed we were going the same way. They invited me to follow them and off we journeyed with me in the rear position. Realising almost immediately that they were going from where I'd come from, and knowing that wasn't the way I wanted to go, I made a U-turn and cycled away from them as fast as possible. They were too far ahead and I'd only just met them, so it was too awkward to stop the party and tell them I was leaving them fifteen seconds after joining them. I don't know what they thought happened to me.

It wasn't long until my bottom started disagreeing with the bike seat. It got progressively more uncomfortable until I needed to buy a gel seat cover. It was nice and cushy to begin with, but as I cycled the gel shifted and once again it was bumbones to bikeseat. My bag was heavy and the heat on the day was intense. I found solace in a dark tunnel and slumped on the edge of it in the darkness, somewhat goblin like, savouring the cool air. Some other cyclists stopped and asked if I was okay. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you" I lied. I was dreading cycling back out of my cave, but I didn't want to arrive in Yangpyeong too late either.

Last photo before entering my tomb. Goodbye world.

I pushed myself to Yangpyeong, though, and decided that what I really needed right then was a bath. I found a sauna, and I noticed the sores near my armpits where my bag straps had rubbed. They didn't hurt, but they did when you poked them, so of course I kept poking them.

This really helped convince the sauna workers that what I was doing wasn't stupid.

I ate Korean barbecue for dinner and then I set out to find a wild enough place to make camp. I found a small patch of garden behind a building just on the outskirts of town. The ground was covered in spiky stuff, which wouldn't have been very comfortable, and I didn't much like the idea of a drunk local joining me for a cuddle in the night, so I decided to search elsewhere. Yangpyeong is separated by a river, over which a bridge runs. It was here that I cycled side saddle as much as possible, and when pushing pedals became necessary, which it often does when riding a bike, it was achieved from a standing position. My botty just couldn't bear to make contact with the seat. They were most definitely mortal enemies by now, yet they had to stay together by their mutual connection to me. If I could have thrown the bike in the river and carried on without it, I would have, but alas, people don't like it when you unceremoniously (or probably ceremoniously in my case) throw their twelve year old daughter's birthday present off a bridge into running water. 

The far side of the bridge was less built up, with a couple of hotels and some small businesses. Opposite the road that ran parallel to the river was a small wood, and behind this a small clearing which I assumed belonged to the landscaping company that had an office nearby. It was late and I didn't think they'd mind all that much, so I pitched my tent. Lying inside, waiting to sleep, I heard a small soft cooing from outside. I poked my head outside, torch in hand and saw nothing. Lying down again, the cooing returned. I was worried that whatever it was wanted in my tent for some of the snacks I had left, but I drifted to sleep anyway.

I really wanted to continue cycling to Andong, but if this was the toll that Bike and Bag had on me in just one day, I was fairly certain that I would be a lot worse off with another three days of the same physical punishment. I slept on it, and woke up (with no snacks missing) with the decision to return home. Luckily, the Seoul subway system is fantastic and runs for miles and miles. I managed to catch a train from Yangpyeong to my home which took two and a half hours. It was a bit disheartening that after all my efforts the day before to arrive here, that it could all be undone so effortlessly and in such a comparably short amount of time.

I spent the rest of the time that would have been spent cycling sleeping, eating in the city and recovering, while making sure not to sit down on anything too suddenly, and enjoying the transformation of my arm sores from an angry red to an unhealthy yellow.

I'd like to tackle the bike paths again one day and actually complete a good part of it, while filling up my passport along the way. Next time, I'll probably prepare a bit more.