Discovering South Korea by bike – a 633km adventure along the stunning Four Rivers route

From the neon-lit streets of Seoul to the picturesque coastline city of Busan, my 633km (393-mile) cycling journey along the Four Rivers route was set to traverse the heart of South Korea, unravelling an ever-changing tapestry of autumnal landscapes along the way.

I’ve lived in the East-Asian nation for seven years and my life has primarily revolved around the capital’s sleepless, bustling energy.

However, I’ve always been curious to explore further to more secluded and remote areas, where life contrasts starkly with what I’ve known in a megacity of 10 million people.

The Four Rivers route gave me the perfect opportunity to do just that.

This ride offers a unique journey, stretching south from Incheon, near Seoul, in the north-west, to Busan, South Korea’s second city, which sits on the south-eastern coast.

Meandering along four major rivers – the Han, Nakdong, Geum and Yeongsan – the path primarily unfolds along serene, dedicated cycling trails that skirt picturesque riverbanks, only occasionally merging with quiet rural roads.

Navigating is mostly straightforward, thanks to blue signs pointing the way, yet some signs were painfully elusive, so it’s best to use navigation apps such as Komoot to help keep you moving.

Along the route, you’ll find British-style red telephone boxes, each housing different stamps for your free ‘Bike Passport’ that you can pick up at the start of the journey.

Once complete, you can send this passport to the route organisers, who’ll return it with a medal.

Fighting the good fight

Accompanying me on this adventure was my dad, a keen cyclist. With immense excitement, we headed to the start line, eager to begin.

Determined to complete our journey in six days, our accommodation was pre-booked, and our daily routes were planned beforehand.

However, if you’re a keen camper or don’t want to over-plan, there’s a plethora of designated camping spots along the way.

The first day of the trip was set to be our longest, at 145km, finishing up on the outskirts of Yeoju City.

We were soon following cycling paths through the lively heart of Seoul before transitioning to the tranquillity of the rural outskirts.

This section of the journey was humming with cyclists, plenty of food and coffee trucks, convenient rest areas and even pop-up bike shops ready to offer quick repairs or tuning – a testament to Seoul’s cycling culture.

The highlight of this stretch is the path alongside the Han River, weaving through the centre of Seoul.

Skyscrapers, including the awe-inspiring Lotte Tower – the sixth tallest building in the world – loomed over us.

We passed under numerous bridges for cars and trains, feeling the city’s vibrant pulse, yet safely separate from it all.

Korean cyclists, recognising our luggage-laden bikes, geared up for the fabled Four Rivers route, would stick up their thumbs and shout encouragement.

Full of energy, we pedalled on, gradually leaving Seoul’s dense cityscape behind us.

As the day unfolded, vibrant autumnal colours enhanced the beauty of the landscape. We had picked the perfect week for this ride; every day was bright, warm and sunny.

It was the final week of October and I’d recommend doing it in spring or autumn to avoid summer’s soup-like weather, with temperatures reaching over 30°C. In winter, it can dip to -18°C.

We continued happily along, mainly on the flat, for the rest of the day until we were greeted by a short but very steep hill that offered us a taste of the more challenging climbs ahead.

Our motel offered us a safe place to lock up our bikes for the night. Security was never an issue, with places always ready to provide secure lock-ups or even allow us to keep the bikes in our rooms.

Mist opportunity

The following day, a different landscape began to unfurl. We started crossing from one side of the river to the other, which would be a recurring theme of the trip.

We also took in the amazing mountainous views, which we’d see plenty more of along the way.

South Korea has exceptionally mountainous terrain, with a staggering 70 per cent coverage, some of which we had the fun of cycling up.

But day two was very flat and a deliberate pacing before tackling a hefty climb on day three.

We would now average 60 miles a day, with today’s leg coming to a close in the small town of Suanbo-Myeon.

We bumped into inspirational fellow Brit Sean, who we’d occasionally meet throughout the ride and enjoy chatting to.

He’d cycled all the way from Italy through various countries, such as Turkey and Mongolia, and would continue to Japan after reaching Busan.

When researching this trip, many accounts highlighted day three’s steep climb followed by an even longer, more gruelling ascent.

The most infamous of the hills was 5km long, winding up the mountain with gradients as high as 12 per cent.

Yet, contrary to the picture the blogs had painted, I found the climb more manageable than anticipated (although the real test, scarcely mentioned, was yet to come).

The day started with dramatic dense fog. The initial steep climb rewarded us with a magnificent view of a small farming village at the base of several mountains, the gold autumn colour shining through the mist.

Reaching the summit of the second climb also delivered a brilliant view and an unexpected delight: a restaurant complete with a tuck shop stocked with snacks and drinks.

With big appetites, we devoured large helpings of noodles and fried potato pancakes, and we couldn’t resist stuffing our pockets full of chocolate bars and sweets.

Surprisingly, the restaurant even sold bike equipment: a cyclist’s haven.

Laden with our new-found provisions, we relished the exhilarating descent, which felt as though it stretched on endlessly, allowing us to digest our lunch comfortably.

This leg of the route was on quiet roads; very few cars passed us on the ascent, giving us ample space, and we saw none on the way down.

That night, we arrived in the quaint village of Mullyang-ri and stayed in a ‘bike-tel’, an accommodation tailored to cyclists.

Our host provided a delicious dinner of vegetable soup, spicy pork and rice, then a breakfast of fried eggs, rice and more soup. We gratefully cleaned our plates.

Train to Busan

The next day, our path continued along the river, flanked by expansive farmland.

This part of the ride was extremely remote, with a much slower pace of life than in the big cities, and the locals were warm and friendly.

As the day came to an end, we had the unique experience of cycling on elevated, fenced paths above the deep river.

We pedalled along, grateful for the stunning views, and impressed by the engineering we experienced.

That night, we stayed in Airbnb-type accommodation in the sleepy village of Ha-ri, hosted by an older Korean couple.

They treated us to a lavish meal of fish, rice and soups, plus side dishes featuring meats, vegetables and, of course, kimchi – a spicy pickled dish usually made from cabbage that seems to come with every meal.

Our hosts also showed us the food they were preparing for winter, and I realised it was a far cry from how I lived my life in Seoul.

We were then plunged into the most formidable leg of our journey. The hills on this stretch were unforgiving, especially on luggage-laden bikes, with gradients reaching a staggering 22 per cent.

We had to get off and push at times. However, each arduous climb brought its own rewards; one took us through a serene Buddhist monastery, while others delivered rewarding views at the top.

Very weary, we arrived at our accommodation for the evening, private rooms in a house in the village of No-ri.

Our host helped us order vast amounts of Korean fried chicken, as a calorie replenishment, and then some, was much needed.

We headed out at first light, dense fog once again enveloping the path, for the final leg of our journey.

We wanted to arrive as early as possible in Busan to enjoy the beach and the luxuries Korea’s second city offers.

Thankfully, it was a relatively short, flat route leading to the finish line.

As we got closer, the buildings became denser around us, as did the number of cyclists sharing the path. People cheered us on, possibly due to our weary, haggard looks.

These cheers brought smiles to our faces as some local cyclists pulled up beside us to chat.

The Busan accent can be pretty strong, so I struggled in my mentally depleted state to converse. Still, the good-hearted vibes spurred us to the finish line.

We cycled over another marvelously engineered bridge and pulled up to the small island home of the finish line.

Navigating the winding paths around the small park, we finally reached a large metallic arc emblazoned with the word “Welcome”.

I took this as a symbolic “Welcome to Busan”, and together, my dad and I passed under the arch, triumphantly completing the Four Rivers cycling adventure.

The sense of accomplishment as we reached the end was indescribable.

We’d cycled the length of a country, witnessed some of the most breathtaking scenery I’ve ever seen and conquered some climbs that we didn’t think possible on our heavy bikes.

It was a profound feeling of achievement, tinged with bittersweetness; it felt as though the journey had passed so quickly.

I’d gained a whole new perspective on South Korea, the country I have called home for seven years.

I’d learned and experienced more than I’d anticipated at the outset of the ride, and was left in awe of the incredible landscapes.

A sense of accomplishment wasn’t our only reward for completing the ride, and we were now in the fantastic city of Busan.

After washing away the grime and muck of the roads at our hotel, we could now enjoy the outstanding seafood, stunning beaches and vibrant nightlife the city offers.

It was a perfect way to end our Korean cycling adventure.