Korea Cross-Country Cycling Trip Overview

The Korea Cross-Country Cycling Trip was more than just a physical challenge—it was a journey that connected us to the land, the people, and ourselves in ways I didn’t expect. Over the five days and 633 kilometers, we weren’t just pedaling from point A to point B; we were weaving through the heart of Korea, seeing parts of the country that cars or trains rarely take you to. Every day brought a new landscape, from the wide, calm stretches of the Han River to the raw, open plains of the Nakdong River, from peaceful rice paddies and mountain valleys to busy towns where the smell of grilled food drifted through the air.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was how deeply it made me appreciate the environment. Cycling puts you face-to-face with nature—you feel the wind change directions, hear the rustle of reeds along the riverbank, smell the earth after sudden summer rain. Riding past endless fields of rice and listening to the sound of cicadas made me realize just how alive the countryside is. It’s a reminder that these quiet, green spaces are worth protecting.

Along the way, we met locals who made the trip even more memorable. Whether it was the old lady in the guesthouse who served us warm kimbap and soup for breakfast, the convenience store owner who gave us free bananas because we “looked exhausted,” or the uncle who chatted with us about his own cycling adventures while we refilled water bottles, these small interactions became just as valuable as the kilometers we covered.

Food became another highlight of the journey. In each place we stopped, we got to try something different—steaming bowls of 순두부찌개 in Busan, chewy 꿩칼국수 in Suanbo, crispy hotteok from a roadside stall, and hearty lunch boxes from convenience stores that somehow tasted better after hours of riding. The meals weren’t just fuel; they were a way to connect with the places we passed through.

Of course, the trip had its share of small but unforgettable episodes—the sudden downpour in North Chungcheong Province that soaked us to the bone, forcing us to take shelter under a gas station roof; the pitch-black rural roads where we could only see a few meters ahead, our headlights catching the occasional stray cat darting across; the moment Dingyu’s chain came loose in the middle of nowhere, and we had to laugh it off while fixing it. Even the toughest climbs, like Ihwaryeong and Bakjin Pass, felt different in hindsight—at the time they were exhausting, but looking back, they’re some of the proudest moments of the trip.

By the time we reached the final certification center at the Nakdong River Estuary in Busan, the mix of relief, pride, and a little sadness hit hard. We had pushed through hills, heat, rain, and fatigue, but we also collected countless memories, stamps, and stories along the way. The trip was proof that traveling slowly—on two wheels, feeling every bump and breeze—lets you see a country in a way that’s impossible otherwise. More than the achievement of finishing, it’s the journey, the people, and the places that will stay with me long after my legs recover.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5