What would you do if you lived in a country that’s so bike-friendly that if you wanted, you could circumnavigate it by bike or on foot? I don’t know about you, but I spend most of my days perusing the map of South Korea, studying bike paths and daydreaming about provinces I want to get lost in.
The Saejae Pass
For my winter vacation, I saw fit to cycle across Chungcheonbuk-do in an attempt to cover three cities — Chungju, Mungyeong and Sangju — in two days. This path is called the Saejae Pass, Korean for high mountain pass. While it isn’t the longest bike trail, it is the most challenging. It requires cycling over two of Korea’s most prominent and most extended mountain peaks.
Saejae Pass begins from Hangang bike path in Chungju. The first hill you will tackle is Sojo which is 380m. I didn’t struggle much on this hill. I remember thinking if the next peak is anything like this, I’m winning in life.
Ihwa was the peak I nearly died on. I spent the better part of the first-day cycling and walking up this mountain. Every time I thought a descent was coming, it just got higher. At 539m, it is the highest of the two.
At the top of Ihwa, you will come across the first notable historical site on the trail, an ancient gate that connects the northern and southern regions of Korea. There is a view deck that overlooks the city. After getting your bike passport stamped, you can relax on the deck and take in the stunning view of the city. I wasn’t that fortunate. It was already starting to get dark. I still had to find a place to call home for the night. While I would have loved to stick around a little longer and enjoy a kimbap, I had to keep moving.
So what’s with the “madness”?
One weekend at the beginning of January 2019, about a month after I arrived in Korea, I hiked Moaksan. It had snowed a few days prior, so the mountain was still covered in snow. I saw a barefoot man walking on the snow as if frolicking on the beach on a balmy summer’s day.
I remember searching his face for traces of madness or pain. There was no sign of insanity or agony. That man looked so at ease, like he knew something the rest of the world didn’t. I had so many questions, but the language barrier between us proved insurmountable. Even so, I do recall something in me shifting. ” I too can do difficult things,” I murmured to myself. Since then, I have sought discomfort. This has taught me that growth emanates outside the confines of my comfort zone.
Put your money where your mouth is.
Three years after my encounter with the barefoot man, I decided it was time to kick things up a notch — pursue discomfort in ways I’ve never done before — cycling and hiking in harsh weather conditions. It gets cold where I live, in the south, but nothing could’ve ever prepared me for the cold I experienced in this northern province.
Meditation 2.0
I like to start my bikepacking trips super early. This affords me time to be on the first bus out of the city. Above this, I get to take in the majestic sights that come with day cycling — in my opinion being alone for hours on end, with breathtaking scenery as your only companion, is like a meditation on steroids. It’s on these escapades I feel closer to God.
First oops of the day
On the day I was supposed to begin my journey, I woke up at 05:00 and was ready to be on the road 30 minutes later. My bike chain, which I had changed just the day before, was malfunctioning. Little did I know the first challenge would represent itself even before I began paddling.
Maybe it’s a sign
I spent over an hour on the phone trying to get hold of the bike guy, who at that time must have still been asleep. Desperate and painfully aware that this delay would hurt the rest of my journey, I reached out to a friend. He groggily tried to help me but was unsuccessful. Just before I hung up, he gently told me maybe this was a sign that I shouldn’t be risking my health since I was still recovering from a nasty bout of the flu virus. I’m a fool if I refuse to take advice from those with my best interests at heart, but I felt healthy enough to give this a stab.
Chungcheonbuk-do finally!
I arrived in Chungju at 13:00. It took roughly an hour to find my way to the end of Hangang River Path, where the bike trail begins. While this trail is relatively short, just a humble 100km, it is rated 5/5 on the difficulty scale as it traverses through two of Koreas most prominent peaks. At the same time, this was a reason to be concerned since I was carrying about 25kg on my bike. I took comfort in knowing that what goes up must come down. In contrast, I don’t particularly appreciate cycling uphill on a loaded bike, but it’s exhilarating to cycle downhill. It requires little effort, just that you sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.
While I love people (in increments), stretches of road with no people at all? Bliss.
Everything is scary at night.
Cycling in the darkness brings about multiple challenges and a generous dose of anxiety. Things that are harmless during the day take sinister shapes at night. Sticks morph into snakes. Your bike light shining on a tree from a certain angle might make the tree look like a monster ready to devour you. From time to time, you might be startled by your own shadow. Apart from this, during the thick of the night, you’re hyper-aware of your aloneness. The swooshing of the wind and rustling of trees make you jumpy. The sound of cars, which are usually annoying during the day, provide comfort at night. They serve as a reminder that you are not alone. For a moment, you delight in the sound until the darkness swallows it, and you’re alone again.
Day two 06:00. I was starting to feel more confident as the day got brighter.
So why cycle at night, then, you ask?
One of my biggest and scariest dreams is to cycle across Africa to summit Mount Kilimanjaro. So, I’m training myself to do strenuous outdoor activities in all elements, no matter how harsh. Even so, it’s a series of unfortunate events that led me to be still in the middle of nowhere by night. It was not by design, but I’m delighted it worked out that way because now I know what it’s like to be out alone in deserted areas at night. I will attempt to do this again. I know it won’t be as scary as the first time. Things are always frightening the first time around.
Camping on frozen ground
This lag of my journey was not supposed to be exerting. The trial takes about two days to finish, but I didn’t mind doing it three or even four days. The plan was to find spots I liked and set up camp before tackling the next leg of the journey. It wasn’t to be so. The river was frozen, and the river banks had frost. This rendered them unfit for camping — I had to keep cycling well into the night. I cycled until I couldn’t feel my legs and my fingers. The upside of this was that I covered two cities in one day.
Every season in Korea has something to offer. Koreans know how to make the most of these seasons. In Sangju, I saw families hand sledging on a frozen river. Some were ice-skating.
Camping beside a frozen river
After 11 hours of cycling up and down the hills of Chungcheonbuk-do province, I could no longer deny myself sleep. So, I set up camp along a riverbank in Maseong-myeon, in Chungju. In summer, a task that usually takes about 15 minutes took me 45 minutes.
Finding a deserted campsite was a treat. At the same time, it was just a stone’s throw away from the river, dry patches and decks to put my tent on.
Sleep is for the dead.
Hardly three hours after hitting the sack, I was woken up by a sharp pain in my feet. I knew immediately that the fire had gone out, and my 12-hour hot packs were getting cold too. When it became apparent that I wasn’t going to get any more sleep. I decided to pack and be on the road. The time was 04:30. As I was trying to remove the poles from my tent, it ripped right in the middle, granted I’ve had it for years. But at that moment, I realised how underprepared I was.
Taken shortly after sunrise in <<<>>>
Biking tips from an experienced wanderlust
Before my trip, I consulted with an experienced bikepacker; Emi of Emi around the world was not frugal with information. To keep warm throughout the chilly night, she advised me to forgo hot packs next time in favour of hot water bottles, which are environmentally friendly.
1. Consider the environment.
2. Winter tents exist for a reason.
3. Covering your feet and hands with plastic will keep your hands and feet warm.
4. Layering correctly will not only save you from the blistering cold, but what you layer with is just as important. Merino wool comes highly recommended.
I’m glad to have braved the harsh elements to conquer this bike path. It was short but very challenging. I go bikepacking again very soon—this time around, I know to bring the proper gear for utmost comfort.
A map showing the path I travelled.
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