The cycle path I’m following is busy with lycra-clad cyclists of all levels of experience. Many are riding on flat tyres, seemingly oblivious to this fact.
My first stop is Yeoju where there’s a lovely park to explore. I take my time before continuing towards Wonju. A scary highway tunnel is my punishment for getting lost. I’ll never do that again in South Korea; being almost flattened is no fun.
Once off the highway the ride becomes scenic and calm. I get lost again but find some wifi and message Mark who is familiar with the area and directs me back to the cycle path I should have followed from Yeoju. In no time I am again in bucolic Korean countryside passing fields of rice and vegetables.
I stop to camp in a pagoda between the rice fields. Elderly locals start arriving to check me out. Sign language gets us a long way in our conversation. Where am I going? Wow your bike is heavy, leading to them making muscle poses and thumbs up signs. One man gets bold and plucks at my arm hairs laughing and says “King Kong”. We both laugh. They leave me after the sun goes down with some chestnuts, lollies and yoghurts.