Yeosu or Bust

I awoke at 6.30 a.m. hoping that it would have stopped raining but a quick peek out the window at blew those fantasies sky high. While it had definitely backed off in the precipitation department, and was nowhere near as poor as yesterday, it was still on heavy side of “light drizzle” and didn’t look like clearing anytime soon.

Crawling back into bed, I started channel surfing and found an interesting little movie on OCN called “Choke” (2001). Starring Dennis Hopper and Michael Madsen, this proved to be a fascinating little flick containing some excellent dialogue between the two leads as they discuss their childhoods. Thoroughly entertaining, I recommend this movie to anyone who enjoys watching masters of unconventional acting such as Hopper and Madsen at work.

That’s the truly great thing about Dennis Hopper, and yes, I know I’ve waxed lyrical about his talents before, but he’s such a damn fine thespian. The kind of actor who could deliver a simple line such as “the sky is blue” and make it sound as if he was going to take a hit out on you, Hopper’s all about the implied and understatement but don’t take my word for it, check out his performance in George A. Romero’s “Land of the Dead” (2005) -- classic stuff.

After knocking this impromptu early morning movie session on the head, it’s time to saddle up and head back out on the road. After yesterday’s disastrous effort, I vowed to make Yeosu, a reputedly pretty little coastal city (pop. 340,000) midway along Korea’s southern coastline, by nightfall.

Yeosu was the headquarters of the Korean Navy for 400 years during the Joseon Dynasty (1392 – 1910), and has long been of strategic military importance in the defence of Korea against Japan. It was also used as training base for Buddhist monk soldiers during the Japanese invasion of 1592.

Modern day Yeosu City was founded in 1949, with today’s version created in 1998 following a merger between itself and neighbouring Yeochon City. With 317 islands (49 inhabited 268 uninhabited) lying off Yeosu peninsula, I suspect that this area is one of Korea’s hidden gems in terms of environmental beauty.

But all of this lies ahead for me to discover. Fortunately, the cycling gods are smiling and the rain has eased off to a light mist, the wind down to a tolerable level, the sun is breaking through the cloud cover and I’m able to use three gears with full downward force.

The road from Boesong to Yeosu is in good condition but very busy as a lot of heavy vehicles make their way to the port cities of Masan and Busan via this route. Unable to take my eyes off the tarmac for too long, it’s really a crying shame as the scenery in these parts deserves far greater attention than I am able to give it. Still, I’m able to sneak the odd peak or three at all the usual suspect mountains, rice paddies, clumps of pristine native forest and more streams and creeks than you can poke a stick at.

Lunch consists of bread, canned tuna and orange juice and is taken under a massive pine tree just south of Suncheon. After an hour-long detour where I thought I’d found a traffic-free alternative to highway 17 only to wind up at the edge of Suncheon Bay, I’m back on track for Yeosu but this time on an old highway heading down the west coast of the Yeosu peninsula.

Much to my surprise, the road is not only in brilliant shape, but car free and is taking me through some of the most scenic countryside that I’ve enjoyed during this trip.

Rice paddies and mountains fringe the sides of the road, with the emerald coloured sea never far from sight. There is hardly any commercial development in this part of Korea and even the yogwans have been designed to compliment the beauty of their surrounds as opposed to the Japanese-style eyesores and abominations that you see elsewhere.

Single or double story with wood or brick walls and slate roofing seems to be the norm for motels, restaurants and coffee shops in these parts. And while the style is probably more suitable for Switzerland than Asia, it at least appears welcoming and comfortable, with most establishments even employing tasteful signage and boasting gardens filled with native fauna.

Is this oasis of symbiotic tourism an expression of the locals’ love and respect nature or a sign of good things to come for the Korean tourism industry?

I hope that it’s a case of both as Korea’s tourist industry is currently in the clutches of shameless carnies hell bent on wringing every filthy won out of the business that they can. By my estimations, it’s cheaper to visit New York than to see this country’s top tourist attractions during peak season; a disgraceful situation that desperately needs to be rectified by the government if they genuinely want to fashion a vibrant tourism sector which appeals to local and international visitors.

Rolling along the empty roads through this beautiful countryside, my thoughts turn to what life in this area must be like for the families that have inhabited this region since long ago. Coming from a country with a relatively recent history of European civilisation, it’s difficult to get my head around the fact that the majority of inhabitants Korea’s rural and coastal areas have been working the land, or sea, in the same region for hundreds and hundreds of years.

The afternoon is definitely on the wane as I reach the end of the peninsula and begin heading east for Yeosu along a coastal road which has developed a nasty habit of breaking inland for ridiculously steep mountain climbs. But as tough as the riding is, it really is an absolute pleasure to be out and about in these parts. The sun is shining, the air is fresh and trees as green as you could see anywhere. Does it matter if some of the ascents take nearly 30 minutes to work through?

With the last of the mountains behind me, Yeosu City suddenly appears on the plain before me and while no different to any other Korean metropolis in terms of architecture, it does have wider streets and seems to have a feeling of brightness about it which doesn't involve neon lights.

Stopping at the local fire brigade station to ask for directions, I get into a conversation with the fire chief in pidgin Korean about Australia and his forthcoming trip to visit fire stations in New South Wales. A few cans of orange juice later and I’m on my way to a point the chief gestured to somewhere over the horizon where ferries are rumoured to depart from for islands and coastal ports around Korea.

Moving through the relatively light afternoon traffic without any car doors suddenly being thrown open, or buses forcing me into parked cars, all is good with the world – even though there is a complete absence of signs indicating where the ferry terminal might be hiding. I decide to keep heading northeast until I reach the area where I hope my destination lies.

After nearly an hour of cycling, I’m beginning to worry that I might have missed the terminal and started up the western side of the peninsula. With 128 kilometres on the odometer, I’ve had enough for today and am looking forward to a long shower and a feast to end all feasts. Suddenly, the buildings begin to look shabbier, the road starts narrowing and the stench of drying fish fills the air. A right turn and yes! I’ve made it – welcome to Yesou’s International Ferry Terminal.

A rusting run-down building the size of an aircraft hanger, the facility could definitely do with a fresh coat of paint and bit of TLC. Wheeling my bike inside, the terminal is deserted as it's now late afternoon and only one of the ferry kiosks is open for service. Again using my finest pidgin Korean, I manage to ascertain that this is only one of three terminals in the area and not the one that I want.

Saddling back up, it takes another 20 minutes of wrong turns and dead ends to locate the "port" where my ferry will leave for Namhae from tomorrow. Nothing more than a concrete pier with a few fisherman casting lines into the bay, I’m not 100 percent convinced that I’m in the right spot but what the hell? I’m now up to 138 kilometres on the clock and it’s time to find a place to stay.

Peddling around the narrow side streets of this dodgy port neighbourhood, I’m looking for a motel that doesn’t scream, “We will steal your bike if we get half a chance.” Now I’m the first to admit that I’ve become more than a bit paranoid after what went down in Gochang, but perhaps this is a good thing – I was getting far too complacent when it came to securing my personal possessions anyway. Fortunately, after only 10 minutes of searching, I stumble across Motel Hollywood which not only looks good from the outside, but is even better on the inside.

Clean and new with a king-sized bed, massive bathroom, wooden floors, free Internet, DVD player and big-screen TV – this is the crème de la crème of motels in Korea. And the price? An inexpensive 30,000 won.
Throw in an incredible view of Yeosu Harbour from the roof where the washing machine and laundry line lives and you have undoubtedly, the best value for money motel in the land … perhaps even the world.

After a long hot shower and a dinner of bibimbap, chamshi kimbabp, goggi mandu and vanilla ice cream, I surf the Internet for a while – catching up on the latest news from the Guardian – before knocking over 10 pages or so of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.

I fall asleep watching John Hurt, a very young Tim Roth, a masterful Terrence Stamp and Australia’s very own Bill Hunter (“Muriel’s Wedding”) in “The Hit” (1984) on a cable channel that we don't get in Seoul.

Tomorrow: Goje: The Island of Dreams