The one on the waterside

This weekend I had hoped to enjoy a motorbike trip up the eastern coast of Korea, and yesterday, I did do that, but I ended up coming home at the end of the day instead of staying at a min-bak (B&B/inn) or camping. I didn't like being alone. It kind of brought me down a little to be seeing all this beauty and experiencing the trip without having anyone to share it and talk about it. It was a gorgeous day, though, and I saw some interesting things, like this old lighthouse.




Some folks gathering and sorting seaweed to prepare it for drying.

People fishing off these old rocks at the base of the lighthouse cliff.

A lone fisherman.










A crew headed out to sea...













... from their peaceful little town.





Even though I felt as lonely as that man on the rock seems, the ride and the scenery made up for it. The Korean coast is a good excursion on a motorbike. It has several beaches, parks, seaside villages, inns, and little ma & pa diners, but also long stretches of open road to enjoy the view of the sea and the hills and the peaceful waterside life here. On the one side is the smell of the sea, a smell that reminds me of some of the happiest days of my life. It's the smell of untold ages of life on earth, the smell of danger, bravery, and power. On the other side is the smell of farms and barns and chicken coops, the scents of my earliest memories. I breathed deeply, and the simultaneous aroma of the sea and the farm aroused primal longing that ran through my soul so freely I couldn't stop it. I reveled in it. I stood naked and still within it even as the wind embraced man and machine.

I've never been comfortable with being alone, though it seems to be my destiny. However, even alone, the Korean coast is an adventure. Take it, if the opportunity arises. It is not the usual Korea.