Flying Home...Seoul Korea (November 6)

Flying east across the international dateline really extends the day. I can catch a plane in Saigon at 1:00 a.m. I awake in Soeul at 8:00 a.m. In the afternoon, I hop on a plane and still arrive in the City at 10:00 a.m. How? The international dateline. I am flying towards the begining of a new day...

From 8:00 a.m. until the afternoon, my layover in Seoul lasted 10 hours. Because I had planned on seeing Seoul during my layover, I bought a Lonely Planet Seoul guidebook. As with other international airports, the Seoul airport was located about 45 miles from downtown. This created a problem. How could I get to downtown Seoul, see the sights, eat some food, and get back to my plane in time? I could take the subway, but as far as I could tell, I would have to catch a bus to get to the subway station. The bus plus the subway ride might take 2 hours one-way. This would take at least four of my ten hours.

To complicate travel matters further, Seoul has a weird street numbering convention. They number the buildings sequentially based on when a given building was built. So number 17 on a street might be next to number 245. Additionally, the streets don't have their names posted on street signs. So if I were to explore Seoul myself, it seems as though I would likely get lost.

Exiting the plane, I was told that I had the option of getting a free hotel room or a free tour of Seoul. I opted for the free tour instead of trying to find my way around Seoul by myself.

As I went through customs, there were a group of 4 of us who wanted to go on the tour. Some other passengers had told me that to find the tour desk, I had to go the first floor and walk to door A. So, I tried to lead the group of us to door A. The problem was that we were all tired and not all of us were sure that we were going in the right direction. Door A happened to be at the other end of the airport, so it was a long walk. But eventually we made it and we were wisked away towards Seoul.

Ann (her anglicized name) told us about our itinerary - see the Presidential Palace (Blue House), visit a pagoda (Jogyesa), and see an ancient palace (Changdeokgung - The Palace of Illustrious Virtue). We also would be fed, but drinks were on us. Ann then ran us through some basic Korean - hello, thank you, good bye. I was too tired to pick up any words. One last thing - we also stopped to do some shopping. I didn't need to buy any more kitsch, but I did find a French bakery!

After the bakery, the group of us went to a "Korean" restaurant. Here I was, the only person not originally from Asia, eating kimchee and an assortment of other pickled items. The remainder of the group were Vietnamese. They were American, but at the restaurant, the group only spoke Vietnamese. I wished I had spent more time learning the language while in Vietnam.

The Blue House (Cheongwadae) - The Presidential Palace

The Colors of Fall in Seoul

Fall Colors on Bugaksan

The One Pillar Gate of the Jogyesa Pagoda

Daewongjun Hall of the Pogoda

400+ year old Pagoda Tree

The Blog Author in Front of Daewongjun Hall.

The Jongo Tower (Insadong District)

Changdeokgung - The Palace of Illustrious Virtue (Gwanghwamun District)

Palace Grounds and Wall

The Throne Inside the Palace

Day 41 - Sabbattus, ME to Nobleboro, ME (September 6)

Time to be traveling along...

It was now time to get back on the road. I asked my friend Melodie to get me closer to my destination. We drove to Sabbattus, Maine where I headed east and Melodie headed back to Manchester, NH. I was sad to part. Even though I like to have my time to myself, I had been with people for the past week and I had grown used to having a lot of people around. But, I was now getting back on my bike and would now, mostly be solely with myself, for the month.

Here's a rare photo. A photo of my behind. Oops, I mean, a photo taken from behind. Fortunately, the driver of this vehicle was friendly to cyclists in general, and to me in particular.

The ride was obnoxious. Maine is NOT a good state for riding. There are no shoulders. The roadways are deteriorating and many roads have heavy traffic. Additionally, there is no flat. Every road climbs for a while, descends for a while, etc. I continued with this up and down rhythm to Damariscotta where I ordered a burrito, got some food and continued.

On the ride the wind blew strongly from the southwest - the direction of the ocean. After fighting these winds for many hours, it finally occurred to me that these were afternoon sea breezes like those that occurred in San Francisco. The only difference being that the breezes blew from the southwest instead of from the Northwest. It’s nice to be back at the Ocean.

My destination was Lake Pemaquid south of Nobleboro. My friend’s parents have a house on the lake and I spend the next few days here to work on my law school applications. Think “On Golden Pond.” It‘s a nice shallow lake surrounded by trees.

Day 41 - Sabbattus to Nobleboro - 48 Miles

Two Days of Hiking in the White Mountains (September 4/5)

On the first day, we drove by the Mary Baker Eddy house in Rumney and then went up the nearby falls. Our real destination was Franchonia Notch where everything has a price even the $20 per person entrance fee to visit the Flume. Boy, New Hampshire is a different place!

In 2003, the Old Man in the Mountain came tumbling down. So obviously we didn't see this. Disgusted by the price, not able to see the old man, and hoping to get a more authentic hiking experience, we hiked up to Indian Head. It was a nice hike and we had the trail to ourselves after almost being run over by some folks coming down the trail. I guess no one ever told these people to yield to the uphill hikers. Oh well, what (the hell) can you do?

Spent the night in the Woodstock Inn, which I highly recommended to anyone who will be traveling in this area. Very homey/bed and breakfast like. And it includes breakfast. The highlight, of course was watching the locals sing, poorly, before the Karaoke machine and their loved ones.

Dancing at the Summit while the West burns...

The next day, retraced the route I followed last year when I went to Swing Out New Hampshire - over the Kancamagus Highway, through the Albany covered bridge, and onto Conway ( a cheesy tourist town, if there ever was one). Stopping at Sabbaday Falls, we took in the sights.

Sabbaday Falls

Albany Covered Bridge

We then went to Mt. Washington, the tallest mountain on the east coast, where we drove to the top. A private company owns the road to the top. The ride was on a steeply graded road where no bikes are allowed (though a local claims that the road can be ridden early if a friend meets you on top with a car).

Some trees have just begun to turn.

Mt. Washington Cog Railway. $60 per person gets you to the top. A real smoker!

View from the top. Can you see the road? It seems to drop off of the edge in the background.

Day 40 - SONH to Rumney, NH (September 3)

SONH: Swingout New Hampshire.

After dancing until 4:15 a.m., I decided to get up eat breakfast, and watch friends load up on the bus to return to Boston and New York.

I had left my food bag in my friend’s car. Matt had danced all night and he was going to rest until 11 a.m. So I took the time to tighten up some bolts on my bike and do some other minor repairs.

Finally getting on the road, I headed to Hebron and towards Rumney. I looked at a map. A map is flat representation of reality. The shorter route went up through Groton and to Rumney. The longer route went to the other side of Newfound Lake and up to Rumney. Reality doesn't always reflect the lack of contours on a flat maps. The ride was hilly! Coming after two nights of little sleep and days of dancing, I was exhausted.

Resting after a long ride...

Along the way, I stopped to visit the house of Mary Baker Eddy. This is the house she lived in after her homeopathic, faith-based healing conversion. The next day, I visited the house she lived in before her conversion and founding of Christian Science (the house is in Rumney). An author showed me around the house. He was a former Middle East and Europe editor for the Christian Science Monitor. He was writing a book and he had escaped to New Hampshire for some quiet.

Leaving the house, it was a dramatic descent into Rumney. There is a stream next to the Mary Baker Eddy house. This steam makes the same dramatic drop. Apparently, in the springtime, kayakers make the same drop in their boats. Of course, in September, there is almost not enought water to catch a fish.

Arriving in Rumney, I met my friend Melodie and her friend Paul who has a house right under Rattlesnake Mountain, a popular climbing spot. Paul runs a website for long-distance hikers. Being a long-distance cyclists, I was very interested to hear about his travels.

Paul has a real farm, ducks and all...

Melodie and I went on a hike to the top of the climbing ridge. Half way to the top, we stopped. When hiking or walking around the woods, there always sounds - the sound of a bird, rustling caused by a bird, chipmunk, or snake. While waiting there, we heard a different sound. This was the sound of a breaking branch that could only be made by something as large as a human. I saw something black moving towards us and in front of us. I didn't think we were in grazing lands. Even though we were in a state park, I didn't see a fence when we began our hike which would have indicated that grazing occured on this land. The shape I saw was black. It couldn't be a cow, but it was approximately the right size. Melodie and I stopped talking. I pointed out that it must be a bear. Then realizing that the bear didn't hear us when we were talking and that the bear might come right to where we were, I stopped up and yelled. The bear turned and ran off into the woods.

For me, this was exciting. All the hikes that I had done so far were by myself. Also these hikes were done in bear country. I never once saw a bear. So to finally see a bear in the wild was nice. To see a bear when I had a hiking partner was even nicer - it made it less likely that we would be attacked.

Day 40 - SwingoutNH to Rumney - 18 Miles

Day 38/39 - Manchester, NH to Hebron, NH (August 28/29)

Ride Forrest Ride! - as heard by a group of teens on the ride to Hebron, New Hampshire.

Yawn. The night before I had met up with my first coach with Team in Training. We caught up and had a beer. Beer. I’ve drank more this trip than in the past 10 years. So it only takes one or two to put me to sleep. Anyway, coach Tim and I caught up on the goings on in New Hamster. It’s not the San Francisco Bay Area, but at least housing is affordable, for now.

The bike touring mantra is this: getting out of your starting town can take forever. Day 38 was no exception I had such a large to do list: buy some bowling shoes for dancing, buy some clothes for dancing, stop by the local bike shoppe (of course the conversation turned to politics...), get hardware to fix the new bike rack that I purchased, and mail extra stuff back home.

I finally began riding at 4 p.m. I had only ridden 10 miles at this point. So I finished in the dark - 2 hours of riding in pitch black. There was a full moon, but it didn’t do much shining through the dense woods. I had all the appropriate safety gear: highway construction-safety vest, reflective triangles on the back panniers, rear red strobe light, and front light. I put all of this on at once except for the front light.

I stopped to put on the front light, but I was not having any success. I had stopped at an intersection. It was getting dark and I just couldn’t get the light attached to my handlebars. A guy driving a Chevy drove right at me and then stopped. In the calm, I wondered what was going to come next? Was he going to shoot me? Maybe offer me a suggestion, like “next time ride on the sidewalk” (of course there are no sidewalks on a country road). Instead he just waited while I finally got the light attached. When he saw that I was done, he drives up to me and asks, “you doing alright here.” I said that I was fine and I thanked him for his help.

I continued into the dark. I would pull off into a driveway or onto the side of a road whenever a car would pass. Even though I had made my self as visible as possible, I didn’t assume that the drivers would see me. They barely see me during the daylight, why would their vision or awareness improve during the night?

I was always able to find a driveway to turn into when traffic passed. The east is different than the west. In the east, a “town” extends over a wide area. Inside each county is a number of smaller boundaries - townships. The township boundaries were shown on the roads that I was riding through - Bristol, Hebron, Rumney, Franklin. I would see the township boundary 3 to 5 miles before I entered the actual town square. In a township the houses, and thus the driveways are spread out. Spread out in such a way that it is convenient for a touring cyclist who is riding in the dark to safely pull out on when a car passes.

In the west, towns are separated by miles of empty open space. So the driveways come much less frequently. Most of the driveways I came across in the west lead to pasture land and would often be closed by a fence.

Stopping at the mini-mart where I almost gave up riding last year, I called my destination-"Lazy Acres Campground.” The campground wasn’t very helpful. I was only 10 miles away on a country highway, but the person on the other side of the phone didn’t seem to know where I was. When I finally got to my destination town - Franklin. I headed north towards the town center even though the campground address was 1000 something South Main Street. I did this because the campground manager told me that the campground was near downtown Franklin.

I rode through Franklin and kept going. I was now traveling north of Franklin which made it unlikely that I was on “South Main” anymore. After 15 minutes of riding, I turned around when I came into the next township, “Tilton.” I headed back to downtown Franklin to call the campground. The manager said that the campground was only 2 minutes south of the National Guard facility. I was a little hesitant to return to the National Guard because when I had passed the facility a few minutes ago, I heard a flurry of bullets. Apparently it was target practice time, I’m just glad they weren’t shooting at me.

Finally I arrived at the campground. It was dark, they had an entrance gate, they wanted too much money, they had no laundry, and a shower cost 25 cents for 3 minutes of shower. At the least I was off of the road and could sleep.

The next day was a short ride into Camp Wicosuta. Camp Wicosuta, a girls camp, is converted in to Swingout New Hampshire, at the end of the season after the girls have left.

Another difference between the west and the east - the hills. I ran into a former cycle racer from Belgium near the Grand Teton National Park. He complained about the hills in the east. Of course he was talking about the Appalachians, but this applies to the east in general. In the east, the hill slopes are 10 to 20 percent. “Just like the Alps”, said the former bike racer. The difference is that the Alps have grades that last for miles at a time. In the east, the climbs are very short. In the west, the climbs last for a long time and the grade is typically no more than 7 percent. So every climb is followed by a descent. Sometime a steep descent and then it is time to climb again. Up and down and up and down all day long. This up and down makes it hard to get into a good cycling rhythm - just when I have sat down and start to turn the pedals in a routine way, I have to stand on my pedals.

Along my way to camp, I passed different landmarks where Daniel Webster spent time. Mr. Dictionary used to live in the Franklin Area.

This is Daniel Webster. He looks a little angry.

This is the church at which Daniel Webster worshipped.

Before swinging into Camp Wicosuta and beginning my Swingout New Hampshire experience, I stopped at Wellington State Park on Newfound Lake. I watched the families enjoy the last days of summer as they swam in one of the clearest lakes in the region. The lake was clear as Lake Tahoe. It is spring-fed and this helps to ensure that is clear year round.

Yes, I have this dumb smile on my face as I ride. The remainder of the time, I have a raised fist and scowl as a car passes too close...

Day 38 - Manchester to Franklin - 63 Miles

Day 39 - Franklin to Wicosuta - 26 Miles

Day 9 - Waterton National Peace Park to West Glacier (July 8)

A long day. Tour de Brad "Alpine" stage. A fantastic day of riding.

Before I got too far, I took these calm morning photos of the Upper Waterton Lake. It was very calm. So much so, that I was able to get these wonderful reflections off of the lake.

Anyone for an early morning swim?

I felt rested after my short ride yesterday. I only rode 37 miles on Day 8 compared with 70 to 80 mile rides for the last 5 days. Typically a rest day should involve no riding, but yesterday’s “rest day” ride was pleasant and easy.

The day was still cool with some lingering clouds. As I turned out off of the main road out of Waterton, I heard some rustling in the woods. I saw a brown bear turning into the forest. There was little time to respond though, I was busy beginning the climb of a steep hill and the bear was busy foraging for berries. We went out separate ways.

The next few miles were somewhat irritating. It was a climb followed by a descent followed by another steep climb, etc. Along the way, I passed a german cyclist who was navigating using his GPS. In a little while, I found myself at the U.S. border chatting with a border guard who is originally from Georgia, but is typically stationed in Los Angeles. Apparently the Chief Mountain border crossing is only staffed during certain hours of the day during the summer. Otherwise, during the winter and during the nights it is closed.

Welcome to the U.S.

Chief Mountain - The name of the border crossing

The road continued in it’s ascending/descending fashion for 15 more miles. Eventually, I reached Highway 89 which lead me to the little town of Babb. I was at the point where my cycling mood was low - I was tired and the traffic was zooming by caused irritation. Refreshing myself with a good meal at a local café, I proceeded to St. Mary.

The original plan for today was to ride for 6 more miles and stop at the Rising Sun Campground. This would give me 3 days to get to Missoula, Montana by July 11.

After my rest day on Day 8, I was ready for a challenge. This was the first time, thought not the last, where I made an inial riding plan, and then scrapped those plans and rode further than planned. Changing my mind in the past, has lead me to keep riding into the dark or led me down a long road that leads through Indian Country. On a whim, I have ridden longer distances through great scenery.

Lake Saint Mary - and a small island.

That same island from a different angle

So I decided to just keep riding. I would try to get to West Glacier which would double the distance I had intended to ride. The goal was to summit Logan’s Pass riding through Glacier National Park on the Going to the Sun Road. There are restrictions for cyclists on this road. They cannot ride the western side of this road from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. during the summer months. I was riding the eastern side of the road, so I would be “okay,” at least in terms of the regulations. But there was another consideration I didn’t think of: because I would be riding later in the day, there would be more traffic regardless of which side of the road I was riding. There wasn’t exactly a wide shoulder along this road.  For an overview of the ride, the GIS coordinator for the Montana Office of Tourism has created this useful guide.  Also, at the end of the ride, whether or not your ride ends in Missoula, it's a good idea to get a classic poster of the ride.

Sunrift Gorge

The ride though was amazing. Glacier National Park is stunning and Going to the Sun Road is a good way to get an excellent view of everything - the mountain peaks, the glaciers, the narrow valley, the tourists in their RVs, Harleys, and rental cars, not to mention the red and yellow National Park “Jammer” buses.

The climb though was a real challenge. Lucky for me, I was only riding the side that gained 2,000 feet in elevation. The western side gained 4,000 feet. This was quite a push as I had already ridden 50 miles at this point. The going was slow.  It took all I had to focuse on keeping the pedals turning over. Every now and then the effort was broken up by a stop to take in a sight or by a passing vehicle.

Jackson Glacier - less and less each year. Ironically, a nice place to drive your SUV.

The small vertical slash in the middle of the forest was the road I just climbed.

The summit was eventually reached. There were many tourists at the top.

Going to the sun...

...and getting there.

I had to take a picture to prove it.

Now the best part began. Going down. The western descent was even more beautiful that the eastern ascent. I guess I could appreciate it more because I wasn’t focusing so hard on my climbing. The descent was so fast that I stayed at the speed of traffic for the next 12 miles. Actually, most time was spent applying the breaks. It was a steep descent. The smell of hot brakes lingered in the air. As I began to get worried that my breaks would wear out, I reached the bottom of the descent.

After the descent, I had a huge dinner at Jammers near Lake MacDonald. Pizza, break sticks, salad, and brownies with huckleberry ice cream. Good stuff.

The little line across the picture is the Going to the Sun Road.

At this point, I didn’t have any camping reservations. But I wasn’t worried as it was a Sunday evening and I reasoned that there would be some vacancies. However, the sun was setting and I kept passing campgrounds that had “no vacancy” or “full” signs. Arriving in West Glacier, I couldn’t find a vacant hotel room. I was getting desperate. Finally I saw the sign to a campground. This looked interesting - 175 sites. There should be at least one site that I could use.

In fact, this campground, Glacier Campground, had plenty of room for a bike tourist and I was charged the very reasonable price of $6 plus tax for the site. This was in contrast to the other campsites that I had passed that wanted to charge from $17 (for a no frills campground) to $35 (for a campground with laundry, shower, and Internet access). I was very excited that I had stumbled on a great campsite. One problem though. The campsite had a restaurant with wonderful food made from scratch. But I had eaten already and I would be up too early to enjoy the food the next morning. Well at least I was able to take a shower and do my laundry.

Another touring cyclist was staying at the campground. She had just finished nursing school and had ridden from Moab, Utah.

Day 9 - Waterton National Peace Park to West Glacier - 104 Miles

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