Seoul Part 2

Meet Andy at 1:15. Load three bikes. Toast a cold one. Pass out for a couple hours. Blink. Jerky bus pulls into the station. Bleary eyes focus on a sleep depraved daze. Bikes pulled out into the crisp air, we stare at each other and go about assessing material belongings. Looks like everything is here.

The two bike shuffle to Stu's nearest bakery and wait, eat yesterdays cooked dough listening to the shittiest music in the world. Korean Pop. Must compare most closesly to seventies eighties, nineties and current pop music popular in the states. Shit all around. As a matter of fact. It is impossible to escape this plagueish cruelty that most successfully satruated the lower half of the Korean peninsula. Pooah! At any given moment, while standing on any street in any large city, one could find themself deciding between no less than three different beats in which to walk to. Fuking mind numbing.

Get the call to come up to Stu's. Within twenty minutes the other 5 guys show, and it's on the road. Interesting Bongo ride. Stu's an interesting guy.

On the mountain, the drops were on. I managed to do three of the four big drops, opting out of the 15 footer that has only been managed by one other Filthy. And thus it bares his name: Johny's Drop. I'm still trying to get another photo or two of the other drops. This was the first of four. Did this one twice.

The mountain was not quite as fast as the previous weekend but railed all the same. No morning rain to add the adhesive to the dirt. Dusty it was. We put down six runs and far too much beer. When the truck was emptied in the garage we filled a 40 gallon garbage can with beer bottles. A bit excessive me thinks. The next trip up will be done with less liquid courage. The next trip up will be my last. Planning a hike and bike day on Acha-san. Beer doesn't have a place when we're hiking these beasts to the top instead of enjoying the pleasure of the shuttle bitch bongo.

After the mountain, we stopped at a USFK golf course and country club. They have the best burgers on the peninsula. These are the guys...
Most are part of the group named the Filthies.
This is the bongo crew. There's another couple guys
that we associate with a jeep. The jeep crew. Some of the
guys ride with both rigs, some choose not to. There's a bit of bad blood
somewhere in the group so when one rig goes out, the other stays home.
Childish. Hopefully that'll change before I come back.

So burgers down, little nap in the back of the Bongo on the ride home, unloaded and bikes locked up, Andy and I head for a bath house. 5 bucks gets you five varrying temp hot tubs, washing facilities and a razor. Looking sharp, feeling awake, ready to move, we hop in a police car and get a front door service ride to the club.

The music was good, the club was sweet, but the turn-out was shit. The head-liner didn't make his flight from England. Still, I managed to dance for 5 hours with about ten minutes of rest. I do this little crazy dance that has evolved from my yourger days on the floor of the 3B to a twisting hippy dance that only works with break beats. Superfun, but horrible on my recently broken foot. I limped home...

Well that's about it. A good weekend in all. I sold a bike, Andy sold a bike, the riding was twisted and fun, the eats and beats filled in the gaps and the KTX (Korean bullet train) zoomed us south to Daegu. Brought my lady some flowers and took her out to dinner when we got back. Woke up Monday tired but rested.

Next weekend I'm takin' it easy.

Close your mouth

So I know some of you must me sitting there speechless seeing another entry coming so close on the heals of the last. I've made a promise to myself that I will more regularly indulge my vanity by talking about myself. So here goes:

We're heading back to Seoul this weekend. Loamy, moist soil draws me north. Last weekend, The Nam held much similarity with the black soils of Galbraith. Wet my mouth just thinking about being home in six weeks. The trails were so sweet, partly to do with recent rains but more eloquently with the smoky morning mist that just seemed to linger. With nine sound riders, and one guy nice enough to drive us to the top all day, The endorphins came easily. It felt like some sections of these trails would breath for you. The bike rolls, accepting at times the smallest rein of control, at times violent yanks and jerkings, and never complaining when bounced off obstacles. It's quite ridiculous really. And it only seems to be getting faster and more fun.

So again we (Andy and I) take the midnight express from Daegu north to Seoul, arriving at 4:30am. This time I'll have two bikes under my ass. Not sure how that's going to work yet... Spend the day on the mountain, fueled by adrenaline and beer, then off to a club I can't remember the name of to see a DJ I can't remember the name of. But hey, it's breaks and in a land ruled by the unimaginative beats of Hip Hop, any name will do.

This time I'll try not to be shy with the camera. It'll be out and often. I took some video last time, but nothing I was impressed with. Getting out the camera just never seems an option. We never want to stop. At 20 mph, two inches from trees, Launching and landing, driving a tire hard through a corner, Ah, How could you stop. Its top to bottom. The lead changes from time to time when someone misses a turn or slides out, hits a tree, tumbles into the bushes or just can't go fast enough. And then it's up and the race continues. But about cameras; there are a couple of drops I've eyed in the past but either didn't have the courage, confidence or enough beer in me to try, or I've been on the wrong bike. This time should be different. Drops always get cameras out.

As I mentioned, I'll be home in six weeks. Turkey sandwiches, cranberries, salt and pepper, and some of that TG stuffing. On a roll. Diana's rolls.

See you all soon.

Time

A good friend of mine was recently commenting on how little time he has to nurture his creative side. Concisely listing all the required resposibilities of his daily life while wistfully alluding to the plethora of unexplored interests just out of realization. To him I say, get off the internet you gomer. And burn your TV while your at it.

Finally heading back to Seoul this weekend. Haven't been in almost 6 months. Went up once since I broke my foot in April but wasn't in good enough shape to put in much of a showing on the mountain. This time should be different however. My bike is dialed. My foot hurts not. And with the last few days on the mountain that I've had, I'm sweating confidence. (A fantastic pheromone for the dance floor by the way.) My buddy Andy and I'll be taking the 1:30 express bus from Daegu tonight and getting in around 4:30. Then it's a light pedal across a couple bridges swamped in the morning light of commuting Seoulite headlights. (Koreans work 6 day weeks, 12 hours a day. There kids go to school no less than 12 hours a day except Saturday which they attend for four hours. And they pay almost 6 dollars a gallon for gas. And for reasons I have yet to find, they're nearly always smiling.)

When we arrive at Stu's, it'll be coffee and bike maintenance, load and hit the road with six or seven riders, all with monster bikes, destination: The Nam. Nam han san seong, home to an endless system of top shelf trails laden with slimy roots, bush hiding boulders, sickeningly steep shoots, an occasional drop for good measure and the always elusive hikers. Add beer, lack of shut eye and pride and you have one fast train of sexy Filthies. (For anyone who cares, mtbk-adventure.com is the group sight for my fellow riders. If you dig deep enough, you'll even find a picture of my sorry ass.)

After the day's riding has concluded, the plan as of now will be to meet some friends from the Bellingham area, eat some international food (burger at The Hard Rock) and try to find some company on the dance floor. I just want to hold a hand. I'll let you all know how that goes on Monday.

that's it for now, I'll add a couple pictures sometime soon if I can remember how.