"The entire nuclear arsenal of the USA is pointed at you, and you're worried about snakes?" taunts Tom Bodkin. He's right, of course: we're biking through North Korea - the biggest target on the planet - and snakes don't rank high on the list of challenges.
We don't get to see any of them either. Instead, Harald wakes me up the next morning with his teeth chattering. "I have to fire up the cooker," he whispers. Last night, we managed to bend our strict travel plan a little and swapped the hotel for a bivouac on the mountain. In the damp cold, we doubt our decision. Harald wants warm tea. Me too.
Yesterday was a brutally exhausting day. We stumbled after guide Kim In Guk on our bikes, through undergrowth and over rocks up an incredibly steep slope. Kim is 70, wears an old tracksuit, walks like a cowboy and his stick reminds us a little of Yoda from the film Star Wars. As he waits for us, a freshly rolled cigarette in his fingers, he gives us a smiling thumbs-up. We see a lot of smiling faces here in North Korea. People don't rush up to us, they are reserved but friendly throughout.
Nobody said that biking in North Korea would be easy. Many doubted that we would even make it here. Some doubted that we would make it out again. Everyone has an opinion on North Korea, and no one really knows what. It's called the Democratic People's Republic, is ruled by a dictator and is not really a tourist magnet. But I am fascinated by this last communist bastion. And so do the professional bikers Harald Philipp and Max Schumann. But even with all the logistics that Tom's agency Secret Compass has taken care of for us, it's a precarious endeavour. How can you calculate things when you're travelling to a country ruled by an unpredictable psychopath?
"You can take photos of everything except military things," says Pak Song Gun (35) as he picks us up in a minibus at Pyongyang airport. Pak and his 26-year-old colleague Om Jin Song are our two chaperones for the trip. They speak good English and curiously ask us lots of questions over the course of the trip - but never question their guides. Their suits are emblazoned with the likenesses of leaders Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il, grandfather and father of the current dictator. They propagate the successes of the Kim family in an exemplary manner.
We navigate through the streets. The city seems airy and calm - and "quite uniform", according to Max. There is not much to be seen in the way of colourful brand diversity and individual expression. A little later, as we drive past endless rice fields in the countryside on roads as wide as aircraft runways, Max mumbles: "I feel like I'm in an old film. As if time stood still 70 years ago." We nod. The scenery on the journey north-east into the Myohyan Mountains is characterised by great simplicity. No billboards, hardly a car.
The deciduous forests of Myohyang, however, are spectacular. Although we seem to be the bigger show for the North Korean tourists. They walk past us in their loafers, smiling attentively. Anyone who has one pulls out their smartphone and films us biking. The footage will never end up on YouTube. There is no access to the internet. We are well aware of that. By landing, we have put ourselves completely in the hands of our chaperones. They are by no means authoritarian and don't carry a weapon. But we know that we have to obey them and have no room to manoeuvre.
Back to the bivouac: we did a lot of pushing and swearing on the way to the summit of Myohyang. And for what? The rain has turned the 1600 metres of descent into a single slippery slope. At least we arrive at the bottom without injury. A small group of North Koreans have gathered under a concrete bridge for a party: Clouds of smoke rise from the barbecue, beer is drunk and karaoke is sung. They wave us over, even though they are not allowed to socialise with foreigners. A few seconds later, we are holding a beer in our hands. All the barriers - language, culture, politics - can also be overcome in North Korea. Until Pak and Om get a little nervous and urge us to continue our journey.
The next stop on the programme is the legendary Mount Paektu. The volcano is considered unpredictable, but for the North Koreans it is closely interwoven with national history and is revered like a shrine. Kim Jong-il is said to have been born in the dense forests at the foot of the mountain. At 2744 metres, it is also the highest point on the Korean peninsula, and Kim Jong-un recently shook hands with South Korean President Moon Jae-in here.
But the myth is shrouded in fog. We remain on the bus for over six hours, staring frustratedly into the rain. One truck after another unloads local tourists. Wrapped in plastic capes, they follow a man who disappears into the mist with a red flag. The weather is getting to us. It was such an effort to get to this remote corner of the country, and we only have two days left. Flights to the nearest town, Samjiyong, are few and far between. A 49-year-old 4-propeller Soviet plane brought us here. Samjiyong is only just emerging. Modern houses are being diligently built around the few older buildings such as our hotel and the huts. A new model town is planned. On the one hand, because tourism around the sacred mountain is increasing - but probably also as a demonstration of power: the Chinese border is just a few kilometres to the north.
The next morning we set off at 4.30 am. Three soldiers get in at the army checkpoint and squeeze between us and the bikes with their machine guns. They look extremely young, aren't really interested in us and are playing on their smartphones. The bus plods uphill, past labourers who are already working on the cobblestones at 6am. They knock the stones by hand and carry them in sacks. There are no machines to be seen.
Finally, we stop at the edge of the volcanic crater. We jump on our bikes and the workers in their red hats watch us with a grin as we ride along the ridge. We pedal uphill to the summit of the sacred mountain. The view makes us gulp: The volcano is huge, the view gigantic. The lake shines blue from the crater, the barren rocky desert spreads out - deep into China. It is surreal. But even the vastness doesn't make us forget where we are. The propaganda - bright red letters on stone monuments - is omnipresent.
Then, finally, we leave Korea's summit. It's only a short descent before we end up back at Pak and Om. Nevertheless, it is the emotional highlight of our trip. Not because we were the first bikers to ride the mountain, but because we were able to experience a touch of this country - and hardly anyone would have thought that possible.
INFO NORTH KOREA
The country
The official name of North Korea is the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. The name belies the actual situation in the East Asian state. Kim Jong-un, the country's ruler, reacts with dictatorial rigour. North Korea is considered the most restrictive country in the world - including the most severe human rights violations. The population is just under 25 million.
The tour
Although North Korea has opened up noticeably to tourists in recent years, individual travel to the country is still not possible. Government watchdogs control the itinerary and compliance with the imposed "rules". The agency Secret Compass, which specialises in unusual travel destinations, helped Dan Milner, Max Schumann and Harald Philipp with the organisation. The tour travelled via Beijing to the North Korean capital Pyongyang and from there to Myohyang for biking. They travelled by plane to Samjiyon, from where they climbed the volcano Mount Paektu. A stay in Chilbo rounded off the almost two-week tour.
Equipment
As there is no hiking culture in North Korea like in the Alps, the infrastructure in the mountains is extremely thin. The trails are rough, which is why an enduro bike or a robust all-mountain bike is recommended. You should always have sufficient spare equipment with you.
You can find this article in BIKE 12/2018. You can read the entire digital edition in the BIKE app (iTunes and Google Play) or the print edition in the DK shop reorder - while stocks last:
