Hitting the Open Road: A Four-Day Motorcycle Journey Across Korea

Travel Story by Christopher Maupin

South Korea

I stretch my sunburned arms out before me and ease back on the throttle. The engine hums hypnotically in the vastness of the mountains and swaying emerald fields that surround me. How is it possible that only hours ago I was fighting to hear my own voice over a sea of noisy kids?

With the job, students and Ansan safely in the rearview mirror, I set my gaze on the road ahead. The route is simple, a complete north-to-south cruise across Korea hitting Buan, Mokpo City, Haenam and the awe-inspiring green tea terraces at Boseong. The sun is high and I am making good time, knocking down the miles.

Four solid hours and 200 kilometers later, I see in the distance what must surely be a mirage—another foreigner on a motorcycle. I’m right on both counts—the rider is a Canadian named Gregg, and the bike is in fact a Honda Mirage 750. “I remember back when I was riding a 125 around Korea,” he reminisces. “I used to have to lean over the gas tank just to get it up to highway speed.” I laugh nervously, but he’s hitting a little close to home.

It is now 2:00PM and I’m following Gregg down highway 30 toward Buan-Gun. This oblong peninsula off of Korea’s western edge is home to several beaches, a small theme park, and of course the sprawling Naeso-Sa temple complex. Gregg and I carefully weave our bikes like salmon through streams of Korean tourists as we approach the temple’s main gate.

After paying the 3,200 Won admission fee, we roam around in the clearing admiring the Main Hall (Daeungbojeon) and the bell tower (Bojonggak) and taking endless photos of all the craggy mountain peaks that surround us.

I can’t help but notice the sun’s position in the sky as we hike our way back down through the massive fir trees that line the path to the temple.

 “That doesn’t look so good,” Gregg says, pointing at my now scarlet and aching arms. It’s time to go.
I say my goodbyes and sink back down Highway 23 into a bowl of purple mountains. The sun is setting fast on my left as I climb over the rim on the other side. The first frigid mountain shadow offers a taste of the ugly night ride ahead.

The next day, Mokpo city welcomes me with cool and threatening overcast skies. A potage of ramshackle houses and buildings slosh up against the sides of mountains and spill out into the harbor on the southwest side. The city is a nice break from the endless banks of apartment towers that dominate modern Korea. Rising up from this soup of cars and buildings is Mount Yudal. A massive bronze statue of Admiral Yi replete with sword and scaly armor stands watch over the city below.

The mountains have grown steeper and the road is steadily dropping lower. Enormous plains checkered with fields are spreading out in every direction. Southern Haenam is a vast and empty place—dotted with shipbuilding yards and infested with…dinosaurs?

A series of teasing signs leads me, under threatening skies to one of Korea’s most important but perhaps least known prehistoric sites. I park the bike under a life-size brachiosaurus outside the museum that is home to several dinosaur footprints. Just meters away, I am taunted by two nesting pterodactyls and a dilophosaurus. Perhaps it’s the triceratop’s threatening eye, or maybe it’s the first drops of rain—something says it’s time to move on.

Heading east now, I pride myself on the fun I’ve had so far. A near-death experience with a cement truck however, reminds me to stay humble. Now it’s time for the journey’s tour de force, Boseong’s tea terraces.

I drive cautiously, as if passing a garage sale. “Heavens, what if I pass the tea farm?” I worry. Finally, I stumble onto a large hillside that is carpeted in tea shrubs arranged in neat rows like a fingerprint—this must be it! Camera in hand, I course through the labyrinth. Back in the saddle, I rest, assured that I have seen it all. Then, as I round an obstructing mountain bend I discover the real Boseong tea fields. A colossal valley drops away from a mountain cul-de-sac completely wallpapered in tea fields. I can only stand, jaw agape, before this real-life wine bottle label.

There is only one worry on my mind as I begin the furious, nine-hour ride north—It is already 5:00 P.M. and I have to report to work by 2:00 P.M. tomorrow!

With just 45 minutes to spare, I pull into Ansan. The bike’s trip-meter reads: 1,200 kilometers. Tanned, and at peace with the universe, I swagger into the meeting room on time. Now for the real adventure—that sea of noisy kids.

Illustration by Bob Veon
(Bob Veon's Website)

Read more about the author of this story:
Christopher Maupin

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