Day 3, Leg 3

Today was a longer-than-anticipated walk with JW and, as it turned out, both of his kids: his son and his daughter. For me, the walk from my own apartment to Hanam City totaled 25 km; for JW's family, who lives closer to the Han River, it was around 23 km, which was a record distance for the kids to walk (and it was done in much cooler weather than this past summer, thank the Dark One). The daughter had it comparatively easy, though, because she roller-skated about 90% of the path. (Yes: old-school skates, not blades). Despite the ease, we all ended up taking way too many rest breaks, and as a result, our arrival time in Hanam City was delayed from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m.

Here's the photo essay:

As you see above, the step count is significantly shorter than those of the previous two days.  This corresponds to the shorter distance between my place and Hanam City. 

Below: a shot of the ramp and footbridge that I have to cross to get to the Tan Creek trail. 

Next: a shot of the Tan Creek itself, which is a tributary to the Han River. The creek contains plenty of fish, which leads to plenty of illegal fishing. The water, especially nearest the Han, is of dubious cleanliness, which makes me wonder how safe the fish are to eat. 

The Tan/Han confluence (confluence = 합류부/hamnyubu in Korean) is marked by this shallow waterfall. Not long ago, because of flooding, the Tan's water was so high that the waterfall was effectively buried. Spooky.

JW's son takes a pic:

One of the first (long!) rest breaks we took was to allow the kids (and their dad) to eat some breakfast. I know my own digestive rhythm well enough to know I can't eat while I'm hiking; I eat only after arriving at the day's destination. So I sat patiently off to the side and snapped a shot of the family noshing away under a pavilion:

A shot of the river, some bikers, and a sign about social distancing and wearing masks:

Jamshil Bridge and its weir-like structure:

I took the following pic mainly because it showcases some of the rental bikes and scooters you can use in Seoul. I've never tried any of these services, so I'm not entirely clear on how they work. Near as I can figure, you purchase a special card that comes pre-loaded with cash, then you touch the card to a sensor on the bike or scooter (which Koreans call "kickboards"/킥보드), and touch the sensor again when you're done riding, at which point the fee for your ride is deducted from your card. Someone who knows how the system really works should feel free to chime in and correct me. 

Bikes and a scooter:

More awesome, cathedral-like geometry:

The sign is saying, roughly, that 2 meters' social distancing must become the norm even at the Han River:

A happy family recedes into the distance:

That funky, Soviet-looking bridge I always pass:

A tree-lined path:

A second rest stop, very soon after the first:

Lots of bridges have spaces underneath them for resting, exercising, and even watching or listening to live performances. Think of these bridges as gigantic shwimteo.

Daughter strikes a pose. That's JW on the left, with his son turning his face away on the right:

A little alien with evil red eyes comes for a visit, perhaps to offer travel advice to us distance walkers:

"Beware the pecking, moth-killing birds."

The BMX track that I always photograph every time I come this way:

Outbuildings with a cuckoo clock:

Daughter slakes her thirst:

A closeup of the cuckoo clock:

The pergola caught my attention; it's covered in verdure now, and it looks much better than it did in previous walks that took me this way:

Dad and kid:

JW's boy preferred to hang back and talk with me. We covered all sorts of topics ranging from rap music (Korean versus American) to martial arts and weightlifting to what it must be like to die. 

Another bridge as the path curves south:

It's official: we've arrived at the Hanam City limits. Technically, we got to this point by 2 p.m., but we still didn't reach our respective destinations (we split off at the very end) until 4 p.m.

The moment of triumph was extensively photographed by JW, who kept posing and re-posing his kids. The boy did a lot of eye-rolling. When you're a preeteen, everything your parents do is corny, lame, and embarrassing. 

This Janus-like sign points forward to Hanam City and backwards to Seoul:

My own shot of the proceedings as we all obsess over the fact that we've made it to Hanam:

Past the threshold:

During another rest break, this time at the Misa Bridge, I saw some pollution that, despite being pollution (was this Starbucks?), nevertheless provoked an aesthetic reaction in me:

This stretch may be my favorite part of the whole trail: a tree-lined dirt-and-gravel path that goes on for a few kilometers and gives the walker a magnificent view of the Han River:

Upon reaching the end of the above-mentioned path, JW took his kids to Starfield, the mammoth mall that he and I had gone to in the pre-pandemic era. I, meanwhile, headed in the opposite direction to the Baro Hotel, located in downtown Hanam, not far from City Hall. The bridges are all decked out in flowers, it seems, so I couldn't miss the chance to take a picture:

And here's the final photo in this essay: I'm standing at Wind of Virtue Bridge #6, and I'm only a few hundred meters from my goal:

I'm definitely walking more slowly this time around, but at least I can say that pain was almost a non-issue today. Uploading photos to the blog is a chore because Blogger doesn't allow you to mass-upload photos such that they appear in the order in which you've selected them to appear. Upshot: I now have to upload one photo at a time, which is tedious work, not to mention hard to do when you're dead tired. On that note, apologies for any and all mistakes in these blog entries. 

Night.