The Great Wall of China, 2006

A very Great wall, 

 "A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving."

- Lao Tzu

It was in the autumn of 2006 that I travelled to China with Macmillan cancer relief as it was still at that time known. Leaving for Beijing on a long Air France flight that stopped in Paris briefly before continuing on to our final destination.

The itinerary stated that we would “arrive early and head straight for a tour of the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square” and that’s exactly what we did. What they didn’t tell us until we arrived was that we will feel like we would rather be tucked up in bed. There was definitely no time to relax until the evening. We were under starters orders. They firmly believed that none of us would sleep that night unless we were utterly exhausted.

The Forbidden City was the Chinese imperial palace from the Ming dynasty (1420) until the end of the Qing dynasty, which was roughly about 600 years. We headed by coach straight to the city centre, where in the surrounding streets we witnessed an echo of days passed. Men sat around little tables, lined the tiny back streets, with bicycles perched behind them and a bird cage above they wagged an honourable victory over their opponents. As we entered rows of drab coloured men and women queued for tickets, complete with brightly coloured baseball hats of the same group colour. It appeared that no one had informed them that they were able to enjoy clothes of their own choice now, we were assured that they knew but choose to remain hidden in the communist era camouflage.

Inside the palace we went up and down a thousand steps, all trodden by the 24 emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasty’s I’m sure. It is indeed a rather beautiful palace. The name in Chinese is actually translates as the Purple Forbidden City, referring in part to the North Star, which in ancient China was the home of the celestial emperor and of course the second part referred to the fact that no one got in unless the emperor said so!

I’m afraid by now the guide has lost me, I trailed behind and dreamt of soft sheets and an unhurried sleep. But no on we went to visit Tiananmen Square, which I soon realised is vast. It was filled with people all moving one way or the other either city watching or trying to stay awake like myself. We arrived at a huge restaurant and they proceeded to serve us with an even larger lunch. Strangely, by now I was in fact hungry and was happy to eat whatever they offer me. None of it did I recognise and neither did I care, so it wasn’t long before I become known as the one who would, food test for the rest of the group. The others seemed to be happy with that until I tried the Black cheese. Apparently no Europeans try that and if they do they probably never will again!

After a rather none eventful night we woke early and were bused up to the start of our trek on the Great wall. Even though we left super early the multiple ring roads surrounding Beijing were chocked up with traffic; buses with people whose noses were pressed against the windows; Lorries, cars and even more buses all carrying thousands of people to work.

We arrived in Huangyaguan at a small car park with what resembled a roadside café but was in fact a small village Very soon we were dining on a lunch of rice, vegetables and even deep fried and battered tea leaves. All very tasty. This was where we were going to stay tonight and we camped at the top of the garden area.  We left for the wall and walked for the rest of the afternoon, testing muscles that many people didn’t even know that they had. We drove to Taipingzhai where this section was renovated and therefore numerous steps awaited us. After hours of tired legs and shaking muscles we made it back to Huangyaguan where we dined like kings once again and then took our chairs to an open fire in the middle of the car parking area and drunk pots of green tea while watching the flames flicker. In the house next to what had appeared to be a café earlier a wedding party was in full swing, both the party revellers and the Macmillan participants had had a few drinks but then and as dancing started in the house, singing broke out around the fire. This was to be a regular activity on this trip, but unfortunately of all the many songs identified for sharing around the fire no one ever seemed to know more than the first or second verse, but it never seemed to matter.

We set off in good spirits on very tiny steps and made our way up to Heaven’s Ladder with its 300 steps that lead up a steep ascent to beautiful views of the valley below. As we continued on our way, contouring the mountain crests we were constantly overtaken by the same lady who had bought her goods in large sack and a handmade fridge to sell to us as we passed. I’m not quite sure how many times she did that but when we finally made it to a little village at the bottom of the valley she had overtaken us for the last time and was picked up by a waiting car. We wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to carry all the goods and even more difficult to understand was why it was her driving the car instead.

We were told that there would not be much water available in the villages and not to shower unless we really had to, but whenever we stopped somewhere where showers where offered the same people dashed on ahead and took the only water there was. It was a typical rural village, with low buildings, flowers in the gardens, dogs barking on the tracks, fruit and vegetables drying on low walls and melons hanging above gate posts.

It wasn’t long before we were put into groups of four or five to share a bedroom. The bed was made of concrete blocks and even though we topped it with our Thermarest it was still more comfortable on the floor, the only problem was there was much floor space either. It was in fact incredibly kind of the occupants to give us their beds and their chairs as we never did find out where they slept that night.

I went off for a walk up through the little fields following tiny paths until I came to the highest point above the village. All was quite here and in the distance I could hear dogs barking and people going about their work in fields full of corn, apple trees and pumpkins. I passed a rather yappy small dog on the way down who thought my toes looked worth a nibble, the funny thing was, I never saw him again until he looked rather sad at the bottom of a saucepan, at least that’s what we had decided had become of him.

I don’t know where they found all the white plastic tables from. We had been divided up into two groups for sleeping and eating quarters and a beautiful meal was brought out and left in pots randomly at our tables. I had sat on a table where the other occupants where men and the little saucepan that I mentioned earlier arrived on ours, complete with doggy sized bones neatly arranged in it. The girls on an adjoining table asked us what our special dish was and squeals of horror admitted from their direction as we informed them that it was probably dog.  Anyway we tucked in and finished the pot, the girls never asking again if they could share our dish.

The trekking information had stated “The route is both on and alongside the wall, following it through the Yanshan Mountains, camping in valleys along the way. The wall has been renovated in parts, but in other areas is rough and uneven under foot”. So it was on the next day that we began to really experience the more crumbling parts on the wall. After a breakfast of muesli, tea, coffee, omelette, bread and black cheese we set off for the hills above on a long step trail. I had found a way of making porridge with tea and muesli which I found sufficed me for the rest of the trip and kept my omelette sandwich for lunch as otherwise it was just cold hot dogs, biscuits and a very large piece of fruit.

We had fared much better than the group who had completed the first trek for Macmillan Cancer Relief back in September.  We were told they had endured long, hot days of 40c and dined every lunch time on cold hot dogs and melted chocolate biscuits. This week the weather was mild, sometimes overcast but it had not been cold or rained either. Summer had long gone, autumn had only just had time to share its joys with us, but in only one week winter would be knocking cruelly on frosted windows.  It was not until the last day that a thunderstorm had come with heavy rain as we completed our final stretch.

We left the terraces of neatly kept fields and reached the wall where the views stretched out before us. The wall itself snaking out on rocky ridges like a dragon in wait. Somewhere after lunchtime we came to The Three Border Stone, which is the meeting point of three Chinese provinces. Many of us took photographs, others planted chestnut seeds in memory of lost loved ones but we all stood for a few minutes and thought about our reasons for making this trip before making our way down to our campsite in a disused go cart circuit. It was amazing food that night in a large marquee, strangely set up for parties.  We had great fun watching and even joining in with some of the party goer’s games on stage.

The accent was a step one the following morning and the wall very broken, rather like a neglected stone wall. The scenery was beautiful here, we enjoyed the warm sunshine as we walked down through pretty orchards and lush terraces. Shannon fruits draped like orange light bulbs and huge Chinese pears, crisp in the autumn light were upon every tree, while old men passed us carrying bundles of hay that appeared larger than themselves. Finally we came to our camp in a recently cut corn field. Locals lined the little track as we made our way passed the jam factory and the tree sided communal toilet. After erecting our tents in a field of corn stumps our eyes drifted towards the edge of the field where a number of local young men were climbing the small, tall, straight trees that formed the perimeter. Each man climbed to the top, with feet wrapped around its trunk and snatched a small leaf, returning with it in their mouth. I thought this looked good fun and joined in with the fun, only to be meet by howls of laughter from the gathering crowd of locals who were watching our antics. Our guides joined in with the laughter as they learnt that this was a local custom for wooing a young bride. We all left the field with tired limbs but lifted spirits as we walked down to the jam factory for dinner.

A strong, pungent aroma of fermenting apples filled the air, tingling our nostrils. In a large vat thousands of tiny apples were being pressed between hessian and a wooden lid to compress the ripe fruit for a special brew of apple cider vinegar. We watched the men working as we waited for our dinner to be cooked and wandered down through the village to find a toilet. The main street was no more than a dirt track and the toilet was a three sided concrete structure with three holes in the ground within. There being no dividing walls between the holes, we kept a look out for locals wanting to use the facilities and each of us took it in turn to enjoy them individually ourselves.

Returning to find the food that they had prepared for us, we were most surprised to find that they had prepared a very Chinese version of spaghetti bolognaise. It was rather cold and not practically nice, but we tired our best to enjoy it and then settled down to spend the rest of the evening by the fire. I played with the village children and taught them songs and children’s games, their tiny grubby hands holding mine with genuine pleasure and enthusiasm. The group began their singing ritual and enjoyed the local wine. As locals surrounded us making an outer circle around the crackling fire an old lady began her song. I must say it sounded rather like a strangled cat but we clapped anyway. Unfortunately she took it that we loved her singing and sung another six songs before the other plotted to get in quick with the next song before she had time to show off the rest of her repertoire. The merry group rolled back to camp and one of the girls fell in the ditch while attempting to use the makeshift camp toilet, bravely she joined us walking the next day having sustained a number of injuries from her fall. 

By the morning a crowd of villagers had gathered once again to see us off, bringing little ones dressed in local costume with them, their colourful jackets fixed at the front with golden braid and delicious smiles upon their little faces. We waved goodbye and set off to visit the local school at the end of the long street, remarking that it too had a similar toilet facility outside it. We were meet by a delightful little bunch of children waiting to share a well-practised song with us. We clapped them and gave them items that we had brought out for their school along with a photograph of them with the previous Macmillan group. It was fascinating to see the school, with its dull wooden desks, glassless windows and tatty buildings. One classroom being for the older children and a slightly more colourful one for the younger children. We sang an old children’s favourite of “Head, shoulders, knees and toes” before a hysterical audience of children who had no idea of what the partially silent tune we were performing was all about.

It was a good thing that there are quite a few trees and bushes in this around as by this time most of us had either had the tummy bug that was going around or it was currently troubling them. The youngsters at the back always appeared to be way ahead, a group in the middle and the singing girls at the back.  

We reached a little shop, the first of which we had seen since starting our trek. Some of the group went in to see if there was anything to buy but found that there was little that we recognised within the tiny one roomed store. At the back there was a “toilet” that we were told we could use, which was far more interesting. It was little more than a small heap of stones in the corner of the garden with an even larger heap of pink toilet tissue beside it. Then we were off again either sharing our stories or singing our way across China.

That night we camped in the garden of a hotel and finally enjoyed a hot shower. This was the hotel that we would return to after our final day on the wall. Our local guides enjoyed telling us about their language and customs while we enjoyed dining in the hotel. They brought us many unusual dishes, starting with vegetables of which we had no idea what they might be. They all had to be tasted by me first, of course and then they bought bowls of steaming rice followed by meat cooked in tasty sauces. The vegetarians were hopeful that they would receive something moreish too and so they did. Bowlfuls of tofu appeared in yet more wonderful sauces. Happy, clean and ready for our final walk we slept peaceful.

In the morning after yesterday’s transfer to a new part of the wall at the end of the day. Starting from Gubeiko we climbed up onto the dusty walls perched on even dustier crumbling rock. The air was cooler here and the sky a pale grey, warning of an approaching winter. We walk quietly here as we pasted guard posts that overlooked Mongolia, not making eye contact with the occupants of the towers and keeping our cameras locked tightly away. At lunchtime we sat in a small hollow beside the wall, it had almost a sinister feel just here and even though we were happy to rest our thoughts turned to getting on with our trek. I sat a draw in my little book and someone else painted a quick sketch in watercolour. No cameras, just a vision transferred to paper by the pencils guide. 

  

The wall appeared to continue on here for ever. Perhaps that why the Chinese gave it the name Changcheng, meaning Long wall. It is in fact 21,196km or 13,179 miles long. Stretching from the coast to the desert. Most of what we see today dates from the Ming Dynasty a mere 2,500 years old and 5,000 miles in length. The wall was very broken and crumbly here, it’s not surprising that nearly one third of the wall has almost disappeared. The Chinese have endeavoured to rebuild large parts of the wall, a very ambitus project started in 1957. It’s the largest ancient structure in the world and made from bricks of varying sizes and sticky rice mortar that binds the bricks, forming white lines between them. There are bullet holes in this part of the wall where properly the final war of the great Dynasty’s was fought on it. All along the wall are large open holes where stone missiles containing gunpowder were dropped onto warring Mongols.

After descending into the valley we made our way up to the newly restored walls of Jinshanlin stretch. Here were re-joined by locals who hoped to make sales of their wares to us as we walked alongside them, some even offered helping hands to individuals hoping for a tip before we left the wall at Simatei the following day. Sure enough they were there to welcome their chosen people as we left camp. I did in fact give in to their sales tactics and bought a scarf and a long photograph, wrapped tightly in an ornate silk box all for just a few Yen but probably bought them their family meal at the end of the day.

Now on our final day we rode the waves of undulating wall, endlessly paved and perched high in the golden dawn of the coming winter. It was still fairly warm but a damp chill was descending upon as white clouds grow into the greyness of approaching rain. We had our final picture on the wall taken together here amidst the ancient stones of a distant culture.  At lunch we were told that for those of us who reached the valley where we would end our trek first, we could continue on up to the highest point and then return to the valley below. The views here were quite amazing and the steepness unlike any previous part of our travels, but as we can to the top the wind got up and the rain came down, miserably as it made the paved wall slippery and dangerous. On reaching the bottom we discovered that the others had waited for us to arrive down so that we could all make the finish line together. It was quite an event, with firecrackers, cheers, claps, laughter and of course tears. Then we hugged each other and took photos of our finishing line before speedily making for the coach as the rain came down more steadily.  

Of course no Macmillan trek ever ends here. After a night in a warm hotel bed, I’m not going as far as saying it was a comfortable one or even a warm shower but it was good to be out of the cold rain, we headed for Beijing. On route we stopped at a silk farm which was very interesting and a pearl farm which was not so. Then on to the hotel for lunch where they gave us an afternoon off, a foot massage having been arranged. I decided that I would do my own thing as I don’t practically like my feet being touched and took a taxi alone into the city with the blessing of own Chinese guide. It turned out to be quite a remarkable afternoon spent in the pleasant autumn sunshine wandering in the park. I danced with an old couple to the tune of their string instruments, hugged trees with a group of locals, laughed with young and old alike and joined some others picking dandelion leaves on sweet green grass. Then it was on to watch the card and board games of elderly gentlemen and listen to the sweet and gentle voices of women singing Sunday songs. I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t shared this experience with the others but it wouldn’t have been as special if I had of done so.  That night we celebrated in style with a beautiful meal at a special restaurant and slept in warm and this time comfortable beds!  

The next morning we all paid for a visit to the Summer Palace. It’s a lovely area built around Kunming Lake and Longevity Hill. The little pavilions and temples containing beautiful painting on their walls and ceilings. The palace dates back to the 12^th century during the Quig dynasty and like the Great wall itself it has been declared a masterpiece of garden design and is protected as a World Heritage site.  We returned via a huge indoor market on many levels and after watching the other trekker choosing pizza for lunch I decided to try the local dumplings a winter treat I was told by an ageing local gentleman sitting opposite me on the wide bench, who proudly told that I had chosen well. I think I did, they were delicious. I bought some things to take home for my family and helped my tent partner barter to get hers too. Then finally we all enjoyed the Chinese circus with it trapeze, colourful, dancing dragons and acrobats. Quite a day but it didn’t finish there, we were looking forward to dinner at a state run restaurant. Unfortunately it didn’t come up to expectations, I think we had been spoilt in the countryside with their beautiful authentic cooking, but was an interesting final evening in town.

As we left for the airport our youngest trekker who had just turned eighteen the previous day announced that she had collected a few rocks from the wall on her way and wondered if they would stop her in the airport. Fortunately they didn’t have a rock amnesty bin for the great wall and she passed through visa control unnoticed. The group enjoyed quite a party on the plane home, journeying over a tree and snow covered Siberia and the Gobi desert too. Another trek completed.