We get an early start from Gumi, knowing we have a long and likely hot day ahead. It’s a hazy morning and already humid as we watch the sun rise over the residential towers along the river. The weather on this trip has been quite variable, with cool rains followed by serious humidity. The path that follows the river out of town is well cared for. We pass fields of flowers planted by the municipality, stop at clean public bathrooms and enjoy the bike themed lamp posts and fences.

It’s a long holiday weekend here, Chuseok, essentially Korean Thanksgiving. We see many families and groups of friends out for walks and bike rides. By noon it’s hot and we’re 50 miles into an 80 mile day. We stop for lunch at a convenience store and enjoy cold barley tea, seaweed rice triangles and salty potato chips, which really hit the spot given how much we are sweating.

After lunch, we ride through a valley of persimmon orchards, the rich orange fruit nearly ripe. A long climb brings us to the village of Sinchon-ri, famous for its hot springs spa. We feel like we’ve been in a sauna all day and instead opt for cool showers. The town of Sinchon-ri feels like it’s best days are behind it. Surrounding the hot springs spa are hotels whose architectural design inspiration seems to have been a budget theme park (a Medieval castle with turrets and flags, a monstrous Santa Fe New Mexico style building with white stucco protruding fake log structural supports, and a Bali themed place with a roof made up of rainbow LED lights flashing in a raindrop pattern). Our hotel is just a bland brown box, but it’s clean. We find one restaurant open and sit down. The holiday weekend means it’s staffed by just the harried looking owner. A kind man at the table next to us explains in English that there’s only one thing on offer: Chueo-tang, a fish soup. He walks back to the kitchen and shouts our order for us. As we wait for our soup, he tells us that he lives in Canada, where he emigrated 25 years ago and gets his daughter on the phone to prove it, though he discredits himself later when he tells us Canada is boring. The soup, however, is delicious, loaded with vegetables and served with a pile of hot green chilies.

We sleep well and get an early start for Busan. It’s raining and cool, a relief after yesterday. The path takes us along the Nakdong River, including sections of spectacular causeway built out over the river. The hillsides are a deep green and we enjoy the sounds of birds along the way.

Busan is a large city, Korea’s second after Seoul, and with two hours still to go, we are already within the bustling urban area.

Along the way we see dozens of very small golf courses. The size of a soccer field with short and narrow fairways aligned one immediately after the other, the courses are nonetheless packed with duffers in bright clothes, all whacking away with a single club that serves as driver and putter.

Coming into the hilly heart of the city, we realize our map is trying to send us through a long tunnel, clearly not safe for bikes. We pull off and instead make our way up an incredibly steep climb winding up to a hilltop neighborhood. It’s a real challenge but the views are outstanding and remind us of Hong Kong with its verdant and steep hills above skyscrapers and an active port filled with boats coming and going.

When we arrive at our hotel, we are famished and are thrilled to discover a street food market a block away. The streets are packed with people eating, hawkers selling everything imaginable (from pop star pillows to one stall selling only rubber chickens and shoe insoles) and music blaring from stores, a sensory overload coming from the beautiful and quiet river earlier in the day.

But the food is the main event. It’s hard not to try one of everything, and we enjoy steamed dumplings, fiery hot grilled chicken on a stick, leek potstickers, roasted chestnuts, and scallion pancakes with a vinegary soy dipping sauce. It’s all delicious and a fun way to celebrate making it the 700 kilometers from Seoul to Busan.