(Korea) The Final Piece of the World Travel Puzzle – DMZ Peace Cycling World Tour

After planning to finish my world bicycle tour on September 1, I decided to hold the “DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour” on August 26th. I had dreamed of returning home overland after successfully cycling across six continents, but while the world tour was a success, entering by land was impossible due to Korean division. I was so sad that I cycled along the Amnok River, Mt. Baekdu, and the Tumen River which was located between China and North Korea border. Still feeling sad, I decided to organize this event.
Time was extremely tight, but I was fortunate to see Dokdo, the easternmost point of South Korea, in just one day. I immediately took a ferry and returned to the mainland late in the afternoon, where a flat-tired bicycle awaited me. Although it was the end of August, the weather was scorching. I was drenched in sweat while I repaired the bike.

Since I had to reach Goseong by the next day, I ended up cycling late into the night. It had been 13 years since I last returned to Korea, and the East Sea was where I first rode my bike. When I cycled in October, the town was quiet. This time, it coincided with the summer vacation season, and I could feel the massive crowds. Late at night, as I passed through Yangyang, known as the hottest spot in South Korea, there were so many people that cars could hardly move. The rest area where I had eaten udon a year ago had transformed into a club party venue, with police directing traffic. What I felt this time was that if Australia has the Gold Coast, South Korea has the East Sea! Due to the peak vacation season, accommodations were too expensive, so I rode far beyond the vacation area and pitched a tent on a deck I found by the roadside.

It was a peaceful place where I slept comfortably for the night. I woke up early at dawn, packed up, and hit the road again. Today marked the last day of my solo bicycle journey.

Around this time last year, I remember cycling here. It’s said that the most accidents in mountain climbing occur during descent. Although I returned safely to South Korea after 12 years of world travel, I was cautious in South Korea, the final destination of my journey, fearing an accident might occur. I felt grateful that I could see that the trip was nearly ending safely.

I arrived in Goseong on time, found nearby accommodations, and while organizing my luggage, I discovered that my bag was severely torn. I patched it up with tape as a temporary fix, hoping it would last just one more week.

The route of the DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour starts in Goseong, passes through Inje, Yanggu, Hwacheon, Cheorwon, and Yeoncheon, and ends in Paju. The schedule runs from Monday, August 26, to Sunday, September 1.

I had previously posted this on my Chinese tour blog, but I want to put it here again.

Recently, some Korean asked me, “Why are you so obsessed with this?” I answered, “It’s not an obsession — it’s a dream of a peaceful Korean Peninsula. Traveling the world and meeting people everywhere, I realized that no matter how famous Korea becomes with BTS, movie of Parasite, or even Nobel Prize achievements, we can never escape the shadow of North Korea. Even people without electricity in some regions of Africa know Kim Jong-un, but they don’t know the South Korean president. When I say I’m from Korea, people from all over the world constantly talking about Kim Jong-un, mocking me. It’s frustrating to experience firsthand how South Korea lives forever in North Korea’s shadow.”
When I lived in South Korea, I never realized it. But after traveling the world, I finally saw the truth — no matter how well South Korea performs globally, we can never escape North Korea’s dark shadow. We are still trapped in a tragedy that began over 100 years ago. The only way out is peace on the Korean Peninsula. That’s the only way to overcome the downfall of Joseon Dynasty and the tragedy of Japanese colonization.
Countries that experienced colonization rarely escape its scars, even with time. Often, it leads to division, civil war, dictatorship, famine, poverty, political corruption, and instability. We can’t change the past, but shouldn’t we at least try to change the future?

If what I’m saying seems abstract, let me explain the importance of the peace on Korean peninsula through Google Maps.

On the left is a map viewed from China, and on the right is one viewed from abroad. In the left map, North Korean territory is included within China. If we give up on peace with North Korea, this could become a reality.

For instance, if you search for the Amnok River in either English or Korean on Google, it prominently shows up as the Yalu River. In contrast, when you search for the “East Sea,” it still appears as is—“East Sea”—despite the ongoing naming dispute with Japan, which insists on calling it the “Sea of Japan.”
When I asked ChatGPT to translate content related to the Amnok River, it removed the term “Amnok River” and replaced it with the Chinese term “Yalu River.” Since ChatGPT is created by humans, it inevitably contains human biases. When asked about colonialism or war, it often presents results representing the perspectives of powerful nations, such as stating that colonialism was beneficial.
Even though ChatGPT, influenced by the biases of global powers, displays “East Sea” (Korean name) instead of changing it to “Sea of Japan” when asked to translate related terms, things were different when it came to the Amnok River. Despite the Amnok river being a powerful symbol of peace and reunification for the Korean Peninsula, ChatGPT insisted that “Yalu” was the correct historical term, completely removing the Korean name “Amnok River” from the translation and replacing it with “Yalu.” This made me seriously question—where did this erasure of native terms begin, who is driving it, and why is it being accepted so passively? Every country has the right to use its own names, and disregarding that right is deeply concerning. Aren’t we slowly losing half of our peninsula without even realizing it? I believe that only by preserving peace on the Korean Peninsula can we protect this land.

On the morning of August 26, we would meet at the Goseong Unification Observatory. Since it was my first time hosting an event during my world bicycle tour, I had many worries and concerns. As the meeting place drew nearer, the reality of the event happening began to sink in.
Due to the long duration of the event, the mountainous terrain challenging for beginners, and the insufficient notice period, only a small number of participants joined. However, having fewer people made it easier to coordinate. Two people attended by car, three by bicycle, and one person participated only on the first day at the Goseong Unification Observatory, totaling six participants. As everyone had personal schedules, there were changes with people leaving or joining midway.

Jaehee, whom I had cycled with in Jeju Island for a few days, joined this event. Jaehee’s friend, Ahyoung, participated with a self-made camper van.

Interestingly, I had met Ahyoung nine years ago in 2015 during my Pamir trip. We were heading in opposite directions, so we only took a photo together and parted ways. In the photo, Ahyoung is on the far left. Our shared interest for travel and cycling brought us back together.

Upon arriving at the Goseong Unification Observatory, we filled out entry forms, watched a short unification security education video, and then headed to the observatory. Unfortunately, two-wheeled vehicles weren’t allowed inside, so we entered by car.

The Unification Observatory was very informative, showcasing the history of South and North Korea and the steps toward unification. Choosing this location as the starting point for the DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour aligned perfectly with the event’s purpose. Through telescopes, we could closely observe North Korean territory, the half of the Korean Peninsula.

Detailed descriptions were provided about what could be seen beyond the windows. I had previously see North Korea from the Chinese border and here I again saw them.

The facilities at the Unification Observatory were quite good. After the tour, we took a group photo.

On our way to lunch, we saw Ahyoung’s camper van, which he had painted himself. It blended well with the camper and looked quite stylish.

We then had local food together near the Unification Observatory. The person at the top of the photo is Jaehee’s friend, whom I had met before at a small community village. Due to a busy performance schedule, he had to leave after lunch. Jaehee couldn’t ride with us that day due to a knee injury, and the other two traveled by car, so I ended up cycling with Taegyu, who is on the far left.

We had a special guest on the first day. I happened to meet Nick K, who had uploaded videos of his bicycle trip in Korea on YouTube. After a short ride together, we parted ways as our routes differed.

The DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour was a continuous journey through mountains. The first pass we had to cross on the first day was Jinburyeong Pass. Since I had quite a bit of luggage, my speed was slower, but thankfully, Taegyu adjusted his pace to match mine, allowing us to have various conversations while cycling, which was enjoyable.

We successfully crossed the first pass of the DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour.

With a small group, we decided on accommodations by majority vote, mixing wild camping and campsites. The people who went ahead by car kindly found a wild camping spot for us, so Taegyu and I arrived at our destination leisurely. Everyone was tired, so we relieved our fatigue by eating local dishes, grilled pollack and pollack soup, at a nearby restaurant.

The next morning began lightly with instant ramen. Instant Ramen eaten together while camping tastes the best.

On the second day, I rode with Taegyu again. He had a calming presence, which made the bike ride very enjoyable. As we rode deeper into the mountains, military bases began to appear, and we started seeing signs with “DMZ” in the name often. The word “peace” constantly came into view—Peace Park, Peace Ecosystem, and even the name of this event was “DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour.” Peace is the strongest weapon against war, and it’s also what can protect us from war. So the entire area was themed around peace.
That day, a military training exercise was happening, so we saw armored vehicles. To protect peace, military presence is needed, and witnessing that training felt like a meaningful moment during this DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour.

The area was full of ginseng fields, and the scenery was incredibly tranquil.

A village with breathtaking views.

Taegyu took a screenshot of the map, and it showed that we were cycling in the northernmost front-line area. Occasionally, we could even hear the sounds of gunfire from military training. One might think the DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour would be all about peaceful scenery, but the reality was that we had to ride past military bases, hear gunshots, and see tanks. It was a stark contrast to life in Seoul or the metropolitan area. Being at the front line really made me feel that South and North Korea are still technically at war.
Later, I interviewed participants—some had served in the military, and even someone from a reconnaissance unit said that the atmosphere at the front line felt unfamiliar. Thanks to this event, they said it made them reflect on inter-Korean relations and feel the need for peace on the Korean Peninsula. That’s why I was thinking if it might be meaningful to hold this event annually to remind people of that need.

At sunset, someone clapped and cheered us on from the roadside. When we stopped, the person said he recognized me from my YouTube channel and shared stories, saying this is his hometown. He mentioned that when he was young, he grew up listening to propaganda broadcasts from North Korea because that the mountain just beyond us was North Korean territory and they had the speaker to broadcast. Realizing we had been cycling along the North Korean border all afternoon was quite striking.

This village was called Punchbowl. It’s rare to see English names used for Korean towns, but this was an exception. During the Korean War, American soldiers saw the area’s basin-like terrain and started calling it “Punchbowl,”

I heard the village looks stunning from the top of the mountain, and I really wanted to cycle up there. But since the sun was setting, we had to pass through a tunnel instead.

Fortunately, we arrived at the campsite before dark. Jaehui, who had arrived first, asked how our day had been. We both had such a fun and fulfilling day that we couldn’t stop smiling.

For dinner, we grilled pork belly together. Melt-in-your-mouth delicious! Camping is always more enjoyable when shared.

I had reserved three campsites for this trip, all run by local governments. Compared to private campsites, they were very affordable, and we could pitch multiple tents per site without extra fees. There were glamping facilities too, which looked nice. The only concern was that every campsite was nearly empty. But I could understand why—earlier that morning, we heard gunfire from military training.
For us, this trip was more than just fun—it was a time to reflect on life in a divided nation and find new motivation to hope for peace. But for someone just wanting a quiet healing trip, this area might feel a bit unsettling.

On the third day, Jaehui, who had a knee injury, was able to join us.

Gangwon-do is stunning everywhere you go. The streams and rivers were crystal clear, so we cooled off in the water together at the middle of our ride.

Later, we had lunch in a rural village at a Korean buffet. After returning to Korea for the first time in 13 years, I experienced a Korean buffet for the first time. I looked it up and found they started becoming common in the early 2010s. One of the best ones I’d ever had was called “Tamna’s Meal” in a coworking space in Jeju, which I visited daily for 2.5 months. The price was around 8,000 to 9,000 won ($6-7$), and they offered everything—meat, fried foods, side dishes, vegetables, soup—making it the best-value restaurant for bike travelers.

We later had to climb a tough hill, but the beautiful blooming sunflowers lifted our spirits.

At the top of the climb, we ran into Ayoung and took a break while snacking on dried pollack bought the day before.

The tunnel we passed through was narrow, but thankfully, no cars came by. Ayoung even followed behind us slowly with his car, making the ride much more comfortable.

After the tunnel, it was all downhill, and we ended the day with excitement. Today we would stay at the Peace Dam campsite.

At the entrance to the campsite, there was a tank on display—with the word “peace” on it, as expected.

Once again, the campsite was nearly empty. Since it was in the countryside, we could see countless stars. After dinner, we all lay on the deck and stargazed together.

I’ve loved going stargazing since I was 18. I even joined an astronomy club. During my world travels, I often photographed stars and went out in the middle of the night to watch for shooting stars. I always made wishes on them. My first wish was to travel the world safely, the second was to travel the world safely and healthy, and the third was to travel the world safely, healthy, and joyfull,, and so on. All of my wishes revolved around safety. As I watched shooting stars from the night skies around the world and wished to finish my journey safely, I was excited to realize that only a few days remained until that wish came true.

The morning started with calm fog. Since Taegyu had other plans and left, Jaehui and I rode together on the fourth day.

We started off with a tough uphill climb.

Exhausted, we took breaks along the way. The uphill slope continued nonstop until lunchtime. Jaehui, who had recently biked around South Korea, said she’d never seen such a long climb. With no restaurants in sight and growing hunger, we had to snack on dried pollack.

Finally, at the top of the climb, we found a restaurant—it felt like entering heaven. We filled up on delicious mountain vegetable bibimbap and potato pancakes.

Right after lunch, we encountered a cool tunnel.

Northernmost, highest peak, and longest tunnel! A thrilling downhill stretch followed.

After the downhill, the terrain became flat, and the scenery was stunning. Up to that point, everything had been peaceful and joyful—but I had no idea a challenge was coming later that day. While taking a break at a convenience store, the owner told us that just ahead was a civilian-controlled area where two-wheeled vehicles weren’t allowed. According to Korean map, Naver and Kakao Maps, we could pass through by bike, and even someone in the DMZ field hadn’t said otherwise, so we hadn’t expected any problems.
I felt so sorry and guilty toward Jaehui, who had been joining me on this trip. While asking a cyclist about the area, it turned out he was a soldier. Since the entire region was full of military bases, it made sense that we ran into one. He kindly explained the restricted area in detail and then returned with a large vehicle to drive us to the campsite. I was so grateful.

Suddenly, while everything had been going smoothly, an unexpected roadblock halted my journey—it was suffocating. In 13 years of traveling across six continents, I had never encountered anything like this. And the reason I had to face this for the first time was because my country is the only divided nation in the world. Even cycling from the Amnok to the Tumen River, even climbing both Mount Paektu and Mount Halla, could not relieve the sorrow of being born in a divided nation. Isn’t it a grave injustice to pass down this sorrow to the next generation? That is why I am trying to make a small effort—no matter how insignificant it may seem.
But whenever I try to do anything related to peace between South and North Korea, I somehow face invisible barriers and painful difficulties.
Those past traumas came rushing back, and in the end, I cried myself to sleep in my tent.

The fifth day has begun. I could hear laughter outside the tent from people who got up early. Thinking I couldn’t just sit around, I pulled myself together, stepped out of the tent and started getting ready to ride.

Because of the steep uphill yesterday, Jaehee, who had a knee injury, decided to take a break. So today, I would be riding with two new people. Just last night, I was so sad that it felt like the world was falling apart, but after chatting with people the next morning, I was laughing like nothing had happened.

The morning air was refreshing, the shoulder of the highway was wide, and there weren’t many cars, so it was easy to ride.

We went to the Cheorwon Workers’ Party Headquarters, formerly occupied by North Korea’s ruling Workers’ Party of Korea. But it was under construction. On the electronic display board, the number of hours the Korean Peninsula has been divided was written: 692,893 hours.

While traveling along the DMZ, there was one structure I kept seeing. I asked what it is and they explained it to me. In case of war, they would put explosives into the holes of the structure and blow it up, so the square concrete blocks would fall onto the road to block the enemy. I saw it very often during this trip, and in some places, it was even painted with bright colors.

At some point along the road, there was a sign, but I couldn’t figure out exactly where the civilian control line started. I thought, “If this is the civilian control zone, is it okay for people to just walk in?”

It was the second time in my world tour I saw a landmine warning sign. The first was in Bosnia. It was sad to realize that my own country, South Korea, is a place where these signs are found on the roadside.

We stopped for lunch at a restaurant run by a very unique owner. It was a summer cold noodle. He kindly gave us chicken wings and extra noodle and soup for free.

Today was a relatively easy ride since most of the route was flat.

The very first tent I used during my world tour was one I bought in the U.S. for $70. Two years later in Germany, I met someone who had just purchased a new tent and kindly gifted me his old one. That’s the tent you see in the photo—it’s been with me for almost ten years. The zipper started breaking down at some point and had to be fixed repeatedly. I lost the poles several times and had to buy new ones and rebuild them myself. When holes appeared, I patched them with tape. If it rained hard, the floor of the tent would get soaked. Even with all that, I’m truly grateful that this tent stayed with me until the end of my world journey.

That evening, we ordered chicken and pizza, gathered around a campfire, chatted for a while, and then drifted off to sleep.

Four Surly bikes! Ayoung and Jaehee, who toured with me for nearly a week, and another person who joined yesterday, had to part ways today due to their schedules.

We took a group photo with some who had just joined and some who were leaving. As like this photo, I hope one day we all connect in Korean peninsula.

Since it was Saturday, about five new people joined. The bike path in the morning was quite smooth, so we rode peacefully while chatting.

But that peace didn’t last long. Soon, an uphill climb appeared, and it was only the beginning. Today was the final day of cycling in my world tour, and what a gift it was—countless steep ascents.

For the past week, I kept seeing front-line structures of the DMZ.

When the slope becomes too steep and there are no cars behind, I cycled in a zigzag. I was struggling, and Hongkwon, who was riding behind me, helped me out by cheering and cycling together.

My body was exhausted, but my heart was full. I’ve had similar moments before—especially during the Pamir Highway in Central Asia. That was the toughest part: high altitude, sand and gravel roads, washboarded roads. Yet it remains a joyful memory because I was cycling with bunch of other cyclists. Like that trip, the final day of this world bike journey was physically challenging but emotionally fulfilling at every moment.

A delicious lunch! If I had to pick the happiest moment during my world tour, it would be lunchtime. That’s right! Because I had lunch every single day, every single day was filled with joy!

Today, the bike route was especially strange. Not only was it unpaved in many parts, but the slopes were incredibly steep. Even those without any luggage had to push their bikes. If you look closely at the photo, someone else is pulling my bike while I pull his. They kindly offered help because my bike was too heavy. I was deeply thankful to experience such kindness on the very last day of my journey.
There was a particularly steep slope on a paved road, and two others each pushed my bike from behind with one hand. That moment felt like I had grown wings—I was flying.

Later in the day, the sun was scorching. We stopped by a small store for a break, and the owner kindly offered cold groundwater to rinse our heads. The water was ice-cold and helped cool us down in the sweltering afternoon. Soon, we were nearing our final destination: the lodging in Paju. We voted anonymously via KakaoTalk on two route options:

A quiet and peaceful detour that would take an extra hour.
vs
A more direct city route that would only take 30 minutes.

Since it was so hot and the route had already been tough with many unpaved and uphill sections, I thought option 2 would win for sure. But since it was the last day, I personally voted for the longer route out of sentimentality. To my surprise, the vote ended up 6:1.

Because it was anonymous, we didn’t know who picked the shorter route. People jokingly suspected me, thinking I chose it because of my heavy luggage. I denied it, and it felt like we were playing a game of Mafia—everyone burst out laughing. Later at the lodge, the one person who voted for the shorter path confessed that being utterly exhausted and just wanted to finish quickly. We all laughed until our sides hurt. It became one of the fun memorable moments of the trip.

Our DMZ riders chose the longer way not because they had to—but because they didn’t want this ride to end.

We rode together through beautiful rice fields, and it felt like a scene from a movie.

The final day’s journey was supposed to end at the DMZ Forest Cultural Space, but since it lies within the Civilian Control Zone, we couldn’t enter by bike. So, we decided to go as far as possible. Suddenly, someone shot off at lightning speed, and I yelled out, “Calm down! Don’t go!” only to realize they weren’t part of our group. We all laughed, imagining how confused that person must have been.

I’ve traveled across Africa, the Middle East, Latin America—but I’ve never been able to see half of the Korean Peninsula, where I was born. I may not have been able to overcome the sorrow of living in a divided country, but the joy of cycling together with others until the very end was precious to me. I truly hope that one day, we’ll all be able to ride together beyond this boundary.

I had booked a lodge about 3 km (1.8mi) away from the Unification Bridge. The moment I set my feet down from the bike at the lodging, I could feel it—my world journey had come to a safe end. I used to look up at falling stars in night skies across the world and wish: “Let me finish this journey safely, joyfully.” That dream had come true.

The two people on the far left in the group photo arrived early and helped with the preparations. They had also joined me for a previous camping trip. On the far right is Ms. Im Miryeo, director of the DMZ Forest. She joined us that evening and gifted us wine to celebrate the end of my journey. Two others, who had gone grocery shopping earlier, surprised me with a cake. I was so caught off guard that all I could say was a brief thank you—but it was a deeply emotional moment for me. The last night of my world journey ended in warmth and gratitude.

September 1, 2024. The final day of my world journey had arrived. We stopped by DMZ Imjingak’s Peace Nuri Park for a quick breakfast and were overwhelmed by the crowds and tour buses. There were especially many foreign tourists. This is known as “dark tourism”—visiting sites of war, disaster, or death.
One time foreign friends asked how to tour Panmunjom, the de facto border between South Korea and North Korea. I told them tours were suspended due to a recent incident, and they expressed deep disappointment. It made me feel a bit uneasy, wondering why someone would feel disappointed at not being able to witness another’s tragedy. I remember feeling quite bitter about it.
Although I had participated in dark tourism in other countries before, experiencing it opposite way in my own country left me with a deep sense of bitterness. The most significant reason for this feeling was that we continue to live amid the damage of war and the tragedy of division—this is an ongoing tragedy for us. Yet, to others, it is merely a spectacle to be observed, and that heaviness weighed heavily on my heart.

Quite people joined the final part of the trip. We gathered at Imjingang Station to hear from CEO Im Miryeo about the DMZ Forest. It’s located within the Civilian Control Zone (CCZ), about 2 km (1.2mi) from the Unification Bridge. Because of its military status, we had to submit vehicle info, full name, birthdate, phone number, and gender in advance. No two-wheelers allowe. I asked those with private cars if they can share with others. All visitors needed ID, and the driver’s ID had to be left at the checkpoint.
People in the same car had to exit together as well. If three people went in together but only two came out, that would be a problem. So, I explained the situation to each driver and coordinated carpooling, submitting everything in an Excel sheet. I worried it would be so complicating if a driver who agreed carpool might cancel last minute, but thankfully, that didn’t happen.
In fact, it would have been easier for the DMZ Forest team to just tell us to rent a bus—but they allowed private cars for our convenience. I was truly grateful.

Since there may be people who confuse the DMZ and the Civilian Control Zone, I would like to briefly explain the terms here.

*The DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) is a militarily neutral area established between South Korea and North Korea as a result of the 1953 armistice agreement. It spans approximately 4 kilometers (2.5mi) in width (2 km(1.2mi) on each side) and stretches about 250 kilometers (155mi) in length. It serves as a buffer zone to prevent military conflict. In principle, no troops or weapons are stationed there, and civilian access is restricted. However, the Joint Security Area (JSA) at Panmunjom is an exception, where soldiers from both South and North Korea are present.
*The Civilian Control Zone (CCZ) is an area located outside the DMZ where general public access is restricted for military security purposes. This zone serves to protect military operations and border security activities, and entry requires prior authorization from the military.

In other words, the Civilian Control Zone is an area where free civilian access is restricted for military security, and it is in this area that CEO Lim Mi-ryeo became the first person to open a forest cultural complex space.

I had only exchanged emails with the CEO before, but I once had a brief meeting with her during a visit to Seoul. The conversation I had with her at that time left a deep impression on me. I realized that her perspective on inter-Korean peace was far broader than that of ordinary people like us, and I was able to learn a great deal from her. That’s why I had hoped to end the journey with a visit to the DMZ Forest, and I was truly grateful that CEO Lim and her team gladly invited us.

As you can see on the map above, there are no road details shown in the Civilian Control Zone. One of the reasons the CEO first came to Imjingang Station to guide us is that GPS does not function once inside the Civilian Control Zone. Therefore, she had to hand out printed maps with directions to the DMZ Forest in advance.

Yesterday, we had to turn back because we couldn’t cross the Unification Bridge by bicycle, but today, we were finally able to cross it.

After passing the checkpoint and crossing the Unification Bridge, I saw signs pointing toward Panmunjom and Kaesong (North Korean city)

We then turned right to enter the DMZ Forest, and just as the CEO had said, there were no signs from that point on. The road to the DMZ Forest looked like an ordinary road, but all GPS services—Naver Map, Kakao Map, and Google Maps—stopped functioning. Although the route itself was simple, I couldn’t help but feel slightly tense. I told the driver, “I’ve never experienced GPS not working before. It’s kind of nerve-wracking,” and he replied, “Honestly, I’m nervous too. Especially since I’m the one driving,” which made us both laugh.

The DMZ Forest was only about 2 km (1.2mi) from the Unification Bridge, so we arrived quickly, and it was far more beautiful than I had imagined from the photos.

The DMZ Forest includes a moss garden, a mushroom cultivation complex, and a glass greenhouse, and it is being developed into a new peace tourism hub that combines experiential tourism with forestry. Development began in 2021, infrastructure was completed in 2023, and it started welcoming visitors in 2024.  (See here for more details.)
What makes this achievement even more remarkable is that it was carried out during a politically turbulent period. During this time, inter-Korean relations were particularly tense. Historically, when the Conservative Party is in power, dialogue and peaceful engagement with North Korea tend to diminish, as the focus often shifts toward a more hardline stance. In that context, completing a peace-themed project like the DMZ Forest was especially impressive. (After three months on December, at this government, the president declared martial law, saying one of reason why he did was the threat of North Korean communist forces, but it was lifted by other parties quickly, and was eventually impeached.)

Today’s schedule included a tour of the DMZ Forest with the CEO explaining the place, followed by a talk session where I shared my experiences of cycling around the world and Q&A

After loading my bicycle into the car, I moved to the place where the talk would be held. The forest was so beautiful that the picture looked like the movie poster.

Although it was September, the midday heat was still intense. Concerned that someone might suffer from heatstroke, the DMZ Forest team thoughtfully prepared ice water and more. There was even a live camera crew. It was clear they had put so much care into the event, and I was deeply grateful—and at the same time, I felt a bit sorry.

I’ve always felt burdened by media attention. During my trip in Africa, I even turned down a filming team that wanted to accompany me, and I declined interview requests from a few Korean main news. As my journey stretched into a long-term, over-ten-year adventure, media requests eventually stopped coming altogether.
I was incredibly thankful to have been invited by the DMZ Forest team and wanted to promote them and share the DMZ World Bicycle Peace Journey. So, I reached out directly to several broadcasters to request coverage—but none of them replied. Had any of them come to film, it would’ve been a chance to help raise awareness of the DMZ Forest and give something back, so I felt sorry that I couldn’t make that happen although they didn’t ask these things.

Although I have many shortcomings, I’m sincerely grateful to CEO Lim Mi-ryeo for welcoming me so warmly. More than anything, I came to deeply respect her for pioneering a new path that no one else dared to take. While talking with one of the staff members at the DMZ Forest, I said, “Whenever I try to pursue something related to inter-Korean peace, I always get caught in so many obstacles and end up hurt. I even cried my eyes out in my tent just a few days ago.” The staff member replied, “Our CEO Lim Mi-ryeo cries too.” We both burst into laughter at that moment.

Since the Civilian Control Zone is a military area, there are numerous rules—like being allowed to stay only during daylight hours. To have opened the first-ever civilian cultural space in such a place and to lead inter-Korean peace efforts firsthand is nothing short of extraordinary. Even running a regular business is hard enough, but doing so in the Civilian Control Zone must require immense mental strength. But I believe a truly strong person is someone who cries, who gets discouraged, and yet still quietly continues toward their goal—that’s what real strength is.

The final moments of the global journey were drawing near. I shared the stories of my 13-year journey with the people and engaged in a Q&A session.

Afterward, I took commemorative photos with each and every attendee.

I also took a photo with CEO Lim Mi-ryeo.

And just like that, my 13-year journey around the world came to an end. Perhaps more accurately, it came to a halt here. Because I wasn’t able to reach the northern half of my homeland, the Korean Peninsula, my world bicycle journey stopped here—at the DMZ. Whether my journey will truly conclude this way, paused at the DMZ for the rest of my life, or whether I will one day complete it, I don’t know. But what’s most important is never letting go of hope.

If the day comes when I can personally complete the journey that was halted at the DMZ—or if someone else fulfills that dream in my stead—then, and only then, will this world journey truly come to a close. I sincerely hope that day arrives.

Let The Iron Horse Run Again!

The journey that began on September 1, 2011, finally ended on September 1, 2024. The first chapter of my life has come to an end. Now, it is time to move on to the second chapter of life.

I don’t yet know what that will be. But I imagine I’ll quietly keep going—crying and getting discouraged at times—but still trying my best to move forward.

To everyone who helped me over the past 13 years of this global journey, I offer my deepest gratitude.

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I honestly doubted whether I’d ever catch up on my delayed blog posts. Writing in two languages over the course of 13 years of travel was incredibly challenging. And once I started focusing more on YouTube, keeping the blog updated became nearly impossible.
That’s why I’m especially happy and proud to say: I’ve finally uploaded the last post—without giving up. Finishing this blog feels just as meaningful as completing my world tour.
Thank you so much for following my journey all the way to the end!
If you’d like to celebrate with me and support the next chapter, you can do so through the links below.
Thank you again!

* PayPal Support – https://www.paypal.com/donate/?business=LWA66NWP9DD5N&currency_code=EUR
(If the link doesn’t work, please use this https://paypal.me/universewith )
* Wise Support – https://wise.com/pay/me/hyojinj19
* Australia Bank Account Support – Westpac, BSB : 733-083, Account : 691-852, xxxxxx Jeong

==DMZ Peace Bicycle World Tour Vlog==