Day Six

Well, that is that. Five arduous days of trekking, and it’s over. I don’t know how I feel. In the stupidest of ways, I never anticipated being in this position. On a subconscious level I don't think I expected to survive this far! But I have, I did, and now what will ever seem impossible, I wonder. Maybe I am just buoyant on the vapours of personal victory, but maybe it is as good as it seems. I feel brave.


I slept quite well last night, after a little tossing and turning, right through to the wakeup call. I dragged myself out at 6:45. As usual Caroline was up, showered and dressed long before. There was a kind of ceremony to it as I taped up my knees for the last time.


Breakfast was quite simple, but I did get a bun with red bean jelly, which I have been hoping for all week. I also tried a type of fermented cheese in a red sauce, which was a revolting mix of vinegar and marshmallow texture.


We set out straight after. Juyongguan was beautiful in the morning light, and there was a proper breeze for the first time this week. I got to wear my fleece at last, and there was a point when the wind got so high that we all waited behind the coach to shelter from the dust stirring across the carpark.


When we set out it was upward again, but nothing on yesterday (though that is not to say my face did not betray some vexation at the sight of another ladder to the sky). At the top the wind was so strong that it was blowing ornaments from the lonely seller’s shack to the floor, but he just laughed about it.


There was a bold winter sun, and the wind was full of autumn leaves. It was something out of a painting, a dream from some other place than the real world, and I have never felt so blessed.


The walk today was concluded at speed, and after we had stepped down we took the coach to Badaling, to lay a brick on the section that is being rebuilt there. This was a moving experience, and when I was writing my notes to lay in the cement I confess I did cry to myself.


We walked up a pale bricked path, and the place had the dignified serenity of a cemetery. In the light of a white sun, under a sky in heaven’s own blue, it did seem like we were walking up to some spiritual border between this life and the next. The bricks were about the size of newborn babies, if newborn babies had bones of lead. They were so heavy, and the steps were so tiny – about one brick wide and two tall – that I made it all of five yards before Stewart intervened and carried mine the rest of the way.


Whether she counted accurately I don’t know, but Ronnie says that we laid our bricks on the 53rd step of the new reconstruction. I pressed my mementoes into the cement, and closed the brick over them, thus sealing all my reasons for coming here in memory forever.


It is true to say, I think, that we are never the same people from day to day, especially when we are as young as I realise I am, but I will take Badaling with me, wherever I go and whoever I become.


After laying our bricks we were giddy. Sarah and I hugged like old friends, and when we came down from the hill, back to life and reality, she and Emma had a good smoke. I was so drained I almost asked for a drag.


After this we went for lunch in a hotel in downtown Beijing, and on our way back to the Wu Huan Hotel we said goodbye to the dear doctor, who gave a little speech that his lack of English must have made quite an effort to learn. He said, in short ‘welcome to Beijing. I hope to see you again. I love all of you.’ Then he stepped off the coach, and slipped away into the vastness of the city. I will miss him. He made me laugh with his singing and peculiar, funny character.


I would have liked to have had a photo of him, but this has been the way of things for most of my time in Beijing. Despite a constant effort, I have yet to take a photo that really shows the vastness of the roads, or the sheer rush of traffic. I don’t think a city’s spirit is easy to catch on camera, and perhaps it is better to leave some things unrecorded. All the best things are marred by the bias of the clumsy human tongue.


Emma, Sarah, Stephanie, Sally, Justin and I went back to the bead market before dinner, and I got a teapot to replace my accidental breakage, together with two more cups, a string of fake jade beads, a ring, and wooden rabbit. It was quieter this time, with the holiday being over for the Chinese, but we were still the only foreigners. It is a strange sensation.


Half of the group, including Caroline, went to have a massage in the evening (which she assures me was wonderful), so the rest of us had yet another buffet dinner, and went back to the hotel, where our group from the market, minus Sally, had an impromptu tea party in the girls’ room.


Now it is late, and I really must go to bed, so I’ll write about tomorrow, tomorrow. Goodnight.