Korea by scooter Crossing Mungyeong Pass
The new scooter stands in front of a cliff in Mungyeong. / Image by Jon Dunbar
By Jon Dunbar
It was time for a new scooter, and I found the perfect one at a great price. Only problem was, it was down in Daegu and I'm in Seoul. But rather than seeing that as a setback, I took it as a challenge. I skipped work for a day and caught a KTX south to meet the seller.
As soon as my train glided into the station in Daegu, my real journey began: the journey home. I met with the dealer and my new steed, a bright yellow 125CC Daelim Besbi scooter. Besbi is a knockoff brand of exotic foreign scooters like Vespa, but it runs reliably well and carries a lot of kick.
I rode it around the block, taking a moment to adjust to the new steering handles; there was a beast hiding within its fancy chassis. Turns out, the seller had bought it for his wife, but it proved too powerful for her liking. After lunch, I set out on the road at around 1:45 p.m.
The road outside Daegu / Image by Jon Dunbar
Avoiding expressways, my journey was notably slower than the same by car. I stuck to roads with 80kph speed limits, on which I tried to travel faster, but no matter how much I gunned it, cars would still pass me like I was standing still. Occasionally I happened upon a slow-moving truck or tractor, and I'd hang back behind it and enjoy a slower pace for a while.
Machines and workers pile up a curious mound of dirt somewhere in North Gyeongsang Province. / Image by Jon Dunbar
Travel by scooter is so much more maneuverable than by car, as you can more easily make snap decisions and pull over on the shoulder. I did this frequently to check the navigation app on my phone, which I tried to do at picturesque spots and take a couple pictures while I did it.
A typical view of farmland amid the mountains in North Gyeongsang Province / Image by Jon Dunbar
However, obviously driving a scooter is far more dangerous, especially among so much faster traffic. All it takes is a momentary distraction and you've turned the road surface into a blood-smeared slip-and-slide. It's also more painful to stay seated on a scooter for hours, compared to a car or bus seat.
Parked on the shoulder for a moment / Image by Jon Dunbar
The route I took started out wide and straight, before directing me onto a winding mountain village road taking me into darkest North Gyeongsang Province, a region that seems to have more graves than living residents.
As I wound through this remote area, I noted the gas tank, which started out full, passed the halfway mark and continued to shrink. But the next gas station turned out to be closed.
A closed gas station is no help. / Image by Jon Dunbar
At that point, my choice became either head away from my destination for the nearest gas station, or take my chances on the road ahead, hoping I could make it to the next gas station that would not be closed.
I thought the high-speed travel was sucking away at the gas tank, but when I finally did arrive at the next gas station, they could only fit about 4,000 won of gas in the tank. My previous scooter, a 125CC Hyosung Beaver, could swallow 10,000 won in one gulp.
Soon my path crossed another major road, and I found myself winding through mountain valleys underneath the expressway, which requires a toll and forbids two-wheelers.
The The road takes me under an elevated expressway for four-wheel traffic. / Image by Jon Dunbar
After a painfully long time, road signs indicated I was in Mungyeong. I passed through a short tunnel into a lush valley. Ahead was a large traditional building, and behind was a dramatic cliff face. High up on the hillside was a city wall, identical to the one circling my home in central Seoul.
A traditional building is seen along the roadside in Mungyeong. / Image by Jon Dunbar
As I turned off the road, I discovered the traditional building was nothing more than a roadstop.
Jinnam rest stop / Image by Jon Dunbar
I went for a closer look at the cliffs, which were dramatic. This was probably the most beautiful section of the voyage, although many strange and bewildering sights lay ahead.
A dramatic cliff in Mungyeong / Image by Jon Dunbar
Somewhere north of here was Mungyeong Saejae Provincial Park, which marked the original path on the journey between the Gyeongsang region and the capital. It is beautiful, rugged terrain, yet instead of coming across as some backcountry area, it maintains a dignified traditional atmosphere.
From there I continued north, venturing into North Chungcheong Province. Here, the land seemed a little more improvised, with the same rolling hills but lacking the dramatic profiles of North Gyeongsang, and with many spots where deforestation and erosion raised their bald heads.
A hillside shows signs of deforestation. / Image by Jon Dunbar
It's unclear if I was seeing deliberate deforestation, the results of a forest fire or some other phenomenon. Some of the hillsides around here reminded me exactly of the treeless hills surrounding Gaeseong City in North Korea, although the effects of erosion and desertification are much more apparent up there.
Traffic remained light, thankfully, and I stopped at Gamwoojae Memorial Hall, which marked a Korean War battlefield I'd never heard of and still don't know much about. It was a well-maintained building, but at the time of my visit was closed.
Gamwoojae Victory Memorial Hall in Eumseong, North Chungcheong Province / Image by Jon Dunbar
As I proceeded north, Seoul began appearing on signs and I relied less on the app. At one point, needing gas, I didn't need to check the app, as I could see a large flag flying from a construction machine.
A gas station uses construction equipment to hang a large sign. / Image by Jon Dunbar
Around when I crossed into Gyeonggi Province, I discovered an abandoned house of some kind sitting atop an agricultural area. Curious, I dismounted and approached, but tore my tight slacks badly in the process. For the rest of my journey I'd wear a rain jacket around my waist to hide the very revealing tear.
An abandoned house surrounded by farming fields in Icheon / Image by Jon Dunbar
After that misadventure, I came across an abandoned highrise apartment construction site I believe was featured in
.
An abandoned apartment complex construction site / Image by Jon Dunbar
The road ahead led me into Icheon, which was familiar territory to me. The furthest scooter trip I'd ever taken before this was from Seoul to Jisan Valley Rock Festival in the area on Aug. 3, 2013. So all that was left ahead of me on my most epic voyage ever, was a little more distance than my second-most-epic voyage ever.
The app directed me onto an elevated roadway leading to Seongnam, which had a new, bright white surface. The app said I'd be home in about an hour, and the speed limit was 90. The sun was setting and I was chasing daylight, and the area had a surreal glow.
I passed a police car parked on the shoulder which caught up to me and pulled me over. The police officer got out, looking angry, and I worried he'd seen my wardrobe malfunction. He told me scooters were banned from this road. I'd been careful to avoid these roads so far, so this came as a surprise. He instructed me to proceed to the nearest exit and get off this road.
Doing that, I found myself in the backroads of Seongnam, which is a much bigger city than just Bundang and Pangyo. Out there, I found this bizarre machine built of parts from many vehicles of various levels of technology.
The weirdest vehicle I saw on the road / Image by Jon Dunbar
This deviation from what my app was telling me set me back several hours, with that one-hour ETA growing.
As the sun set, I passed Gonjiam, a part of Gwangju best known for its abandoned mental hospital.
It was getting dark, punishingly so. Cars seemed to be pulling up closer behind me, acting like they couldn't see me on this bright yellow new scooter. Shortly after I took the picture below which accurately captures the lighting situation, finally all the highway lights came on.
An apartment complex at night / Image by Jon Dunbar
Around Samdong Station on the Gyeonggang Line, a rainstorm washed over me. I took shelter under the train tracks, hoping to wait it out. Driving in the rain without a visor is about as pleasant as receiving a face full of needles. I considered leaving the scooter here and taking the train the rest of the way, but my mission was to get this thing all the way home, dammit, and the forecast said the rain would pass.
Eventually, the rain let up enough that I decided to risk it, and I hit the road again. As I ascended one ridge, Seoul came into view ahead of me, with Lotte World Tower guiding me home. Finally, around 10 p.m., almost eight hours after I set out from Daegu, I arrived home.