Kevin's Walk 9: Day 20, Leg 14

What a day.

I'm back home, and it's after midnight, i.e., technically Sunday.

I left the Songhak Motel a bit late Saturday morning—at 5 a.m. Unlike the previous morning, this one started off clear, which I took as auspicious since this was my final day of walking on this trip. Fog began rolling in later in the morning, and along with it came the cold. I had broken out two chemical hand warmers again, but I somehow forgot one when I departed the motel. To compensate, I wore gloves. I also started the day with my trekking pole again strapped to the underside of my backpack to keep my hands free.

While I was as slow as usual, it felt like a good, steady walk. I tried to remember how many hills the day held in store for me, and it turned out there were only two: the first was a double-humped hill that could arguably be counted as two hills; the second was a hill that didn't seem so large last year, but that struck me as respectably huge this year. Still, the slope wasn't as bad as the meanest hill's; I altered my formula to fifty steps, then a pause of fifteen to twenty breaths.

As I walked, I looked out for any lingering shaman spiders, but there were none: they'd all gone to ground or died, leaving room for the next generation. During the final part of the walk, which started right after the second hill, I also kept an eye out for that giant hornets' nest I'd seen twice before, but I never saw it. It either got destroyed by people or was consumed by nature.

The final day of the Nakdong route is nice because it presents you with a variety of terrain—long straightaways, gentle hills, rough hills, neighborhoods, farms, and parkland. After the final hill is done, the rest is parkland for five or six kilometers, followed by a straight shot to the Andong Dam.

Every time I've been to the dam in the past, it's been quiet, but Saturday was loud and crowded; with tons of traffic on the street. It was as if eastern Andong had come alive. This sector of the city had always had a tourist-trappy vibe about it, but it all seemed to make sense on Saturday: there were food stands and concerts and events. Even the motorboat tours on the river seemed more active, and strolling couples armed with cell cameras and selfie sticks were everywhere. I therefore wasn't able to take as many of my own pics as I would have liked.

Nor was I able to find a quiet spot to sit down and record videos of me speaking in English, French, and Korean to announce the completion of this latest walk. People were using loud jet skis on the Nakdong; concerts were booming everywhere along the riverside, and bikers would stop right next to whatever bench I was resting on to jabber loudly on their cell phones.

Despite these frustrations, I was in too good of a mood to be bothered deeply by them. A strange and funny thing did happen, though, at the very end: I had come back down to the town after spending some time on top of the dam, and I was trying to take a photo of the giant, male/female pair of jangseung that guard one side of the town, but a heedless cluster of Korean girls was blocking my ability to take the picture. I was tired and getting frustrated, and one of the girls was staring straight at me and making some sort of gesture. As politely as I could, I made a shooing gesture in return, pantomiming gently shoving the girl and her friends aside so I could have a clear space for my shot. The girl understood; she and her friends moved dutifully out of the way, and I got my shot. Only later did I realize that the girl, who was somewhat attractive but way too young for me, had wanted to talk about my tee shirt. So I had basically come off looking like a mean old fart to her, despite my polite smile as I shoo-gestured her out of my way. Ah, well. What's done is done.

The final climb to the top of the dam was more arduous than it had been last year. As I mentioned previously, Saturday was the only day when I felt I might have a heart attack. The path I had chosen involved stairs and steep trails, and I really should have paused more often to catch my breath. Because the day was crowded, I had to stop and yield for healthier, faster people—some very old—who were also on their way up to the traditional-looking observation deck that sits right next to the dam. Somehow, after much huffing and puffing, I finally made it up to the observation deck, then over to the dam. I was too tired to feel sentimental or to ponder my accomplishment. But as I reflect on the ascent now, and on the whole walk, I do feel redeemed after last year's disaster. I have closure and can move on.

Walking to Andong Dam is a good, dramatic way to end a long walk. I'll try to be more sensitive to and perceptive about people the next time I'm in a crowd situation. Being introverted makes this difficult, but not impossible. That said, I'm glad I survived this endurance test and hope I can do the longer Four Rivers walk next year or in 2027.

Here's a final set of ten pics from Saturday's walk. I'll add the promised video soon, then get to work uploading the rest of the pics, editing posts, enlarging pics, and adding captions and commentary.