A Few Weeks Later

Having long since made the day and a half haul back to Winchester, I can report that I have now reacclimatised myself to my home country, though it was actually more of a culture shock to return and find England unchanged than it was to enter Beijing. Work was a dunk into cold water, and university was a landscape in which nothing had altered, but in which I struggled to find my footing again.


I have survived, and far from quelling my appetite, I am now gripped by an urge to see the rest of the world. I don’t think it will be long before I’m travel writing again.


Now that there is enough distance between me and my adventure, it feels as though I have always been as I am now, but I know that this is not the case. Going to China was a privilege, and an awakening. I returned from my trek feeling stronger than I ever have, and am determined that I will undergo more challenges in the future.


I am, however, aware that the difficulties I faced on my expedition pale before the challenges those with Duchenne face every day. If I am brave for going to China with a group of strangers, then my brother and those in the same boat as him are heroes for the strength and dignity which they demonstrate in the face of constant adversity.


We hope that there will someday be a cure, and to the root of my being I do believe that things are heading in the right direction, but at the moment the day of ultimate victory against this condition is still too far in the future. Battles are being won every day, as Duchenne boys now in most cases survive into adulthood, but the war goes on, and every day this charity needs support to provide more services to the entire Duchenne community.


If you would like to donate to this valuable cause, please visit Action Duchenne at:
https://cafdonate.cafonline.org/donatesteps.aspx?beneficiarycampaignid=536


And if you would like some more information about what Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy is, here is a link to Action Duchenne’s description of the condition:
http://www.actionduchenne.org/what-is-duchenne-muscular-dsytrophy/


Thank you so much for reading. Until my next adventure, love to you all.

The Last Day

I think today I did more in one day than I ever before managed to cram in to twenty-four hours. As usual, the wakeup call was 6:30, and painful, but being able to wear trainers instead of boots was lovely, and a dress! I had forgotten what it was like! (Though to be truthful, the outfit doesn't quite portray me as a stylish individual, due to the scarcity of garments left in my suitcase).


We had the standard Wu Huan breakfast, as before. I ventured to try a soup, but this was a regrettable decision. Then off we went! Out into Beijing, my new favourite city. First of all we went to the Temple of Heaven park, to have a tai chi lesson in the bracing autumn wind (my initial fondness for my dress soon wore off). Like most things I have seen here, the park was massive, and full of people, mostly the elderly doing their morning exercises.


There is vast provision for outdoor activities, with a least a hundred different manual exercise machines set up for the public’s free use. I had a little go, and was welcomed. If I had to describe China in a word, I would say friendly. As we walked on further we saw a troupe of men playing harmonicas, and several clusters of people gathered around portable speakers, just dancing for the fun of it.


Michael said that this is commonplace, and anyone is free to join in. I think the happiness of the people here must be a contributing factor to the supposed longevity of Asian people (average life expectancy in China is 74 for a woman). We in England could learn a lot from the mentality here, I think.


By the old temple kitchens, where sacrifices and offerings were prepared in the dynasty eras, there were more people still. The elderly gather every day to play mahjong, cards, or to crochet in company. We saw a few birds in cages, which is also nothing strange. Instead of taking the dog for a walk, Chinese men will often bring their birds to the park under a dark cloth. When the bird is exposed to the sun it will sing. They like to have competitions, to see whose bird can sing the best.


Tai chi was good fun. We had a twenty minute session, and learned a little routine. We were informed that tai chi was originally used for combat, but now it is a practise to find balance. The Taoist belief is that all things are yin and yang; sun and moon, fire and water, man and woman etc. Too much fire is an excess of yin, which means a need for water. Tai chi is supposed to bring inner peace, and I must admit it was relaxing.


After bidding our teacher goodbye we went along to the Temple of Heaven, which was spectacular. Translated direct from the Chinese its name is ‘the hall of prayer for good harvest,’ and it is where the emperor would come, twice a year, to pray for a good harvest and thank the gods, though what they did when the harvest was bad I don’t know! It was built in 1412, and I can’t imagine how striking it was then, because as it is now, I think it is the most beautiful building I have ever seen.


On the outside there are four trees on the top layer, and twelve on both the middle and bottom. They represent the seasons, the months, and the hours in the day. The total of twenty-eight is the number of constellations in heaven.


After we had taken enough photos to make a brochure, and meandered our way back through the park, we went to a teahouse just opposite the main gate. Every wall was covered in colourful tea sets, and all round the rooms there were wall hangings and fabric vines. It was kitsch, and delightful. We had a tea-tasting session, in which the aptly named Miss Ti introduced us to the six types of tea – oolong, pure, green, black, white, and flower. My favourites were the oolong ginseng tea, which is apparently good for memory, and also the fruit tea, which I was persuaded into buying, together with a free ‘pee pee boy’ – a ceramic baby who will urinate if he sits in hot water. It is good luck if you get sprayed by the cheeky thing.


After this we went on to Tiananmen Square, which translates as ‘gate of heavenly peace.’ It is the biggest square in the world, and can hold one million people, as it did on the day Chairman Mao proclaimed the birth of new China. It is a strange thing, to be in a place you've heard about all your life, when to stand with its paving beneath your own feet, you would never know about the sorry history of the place.


All the features are proud celebrations of China’s progress. They don’t show Mao’s wife committing suicide in prison, or the student demonstration. Michael said that the tank photo incident is rarely spoken of. The fate of the man in that photo is unknown, thought I suppose when the rumours are death and imprisonment it is not difficult to see why people don’t like to talk about it.


There were plenty of Chinese about, all taking photos with the 1949-2015 monuments. I wonder if part of the happiness of this nation is born from the price they paid to get here. Since the fall of the feudal system China has spent most of its time caught in a battle between two extremes. Only now is it starting to balance out. I suppose I would be grateful too, if I had been through so much and survived.


After this we walked through the great gate over which Mao stares out over the square, framed by the words (in rough translation) ‘long live the People’s Republic of China. Long live the great unity of the world’s peoples.’


We went for lunch before we entered the Forbidden City. I think perhaps I am starting to tire of buffet meals, but since I intend to make a return here, I hope that perhaps we have been a little cossetted, and provided only with a selection of Chinese dishes that are deemed suitable for the English palette.


We spent most of the afternoon in the Forbidden City. To look at it, you would never believe that people used to actually live there, and when it was built in 1420 I imagine it must have seemed like heaven on earth to anyone who stole inside to see it. Like many beautiful things, it was not shared. The emperor lived within its walls with his concubines (throughout the dynasties their numbers varied between eight hundred and three thousand), children, and servants, all of whom were eunuchs.


Besides any older sons, the emperor would be the only sexually active man in residence, sampling different women every night, some of whom might never be called again after their first encounter. Imagine their lives! Pulled from their families are fourteen, paraded before a man they knew only as the son of heaven, and then if they failed to impress him in the bedroom they were condemned to a life of celibacy and pointless misery. They were trapped in a city they could not leave, surrounded by riches they had no use for. I can think of few unhappier fates – no life, no love, and no chance of ever making a fresh start. I imagine these creatures were vicious, and malevolent towards each other. If three thousand women fought over the affections of one man, there must have been a certain sharpness to the air.


The gardens were the kind of thing you see in the most well-filtered, enhanced photos, but they were as gorgeous in reality as any photo that could be taken. The rocks, that looked as though they had been hauled from the depths of the ocean, are in fact man-made constructions, status symbols, because making them was an expensive process. The Emperor’s garden had great tangles of them, many larger than men. And the trees! Some were three hundred years old! It was beautiful, but such a word is no justice. It is an echo of a whisper next to the inexpressible truth.


Michael told us about the last emperor, who was deceived into thinking that he ruled China, even though his power was removed when he was only six. Having made a deal, the royal family were allowed to remain living the Forbidden City until 1924, when they were evicted, and the poor soul learned of his true inheritance.


Promised help to reclaim his lost throne, he betrayed his country to the Japanese during WWII. When the Russians caught him and ransomed him back to China he was imprisoned and re-educated over a period of several years. When he was released he became a gardener, and would visit the Forbidden City among the tourists, who never knew his true identity. He died in 1964, and unlike his prestigious ancestors with their underground labyrinths, he was buried in a public graveyard like any other old, unimportant man.


However magnificent the Forbidden City is, there is no way to forget the tragedies which occurred there, and the suffering that its queer, isolated nature wrought upon the souls who lived inside.


After we had toured the main paths of the place (the whole thing, even just the parts that are open to the public, would be a day in itself) we got back on the coach, and went to a knock-off market. In English it translated as the Pearl Market, and it was packed, first floor to fifth, with all kinds of delightful trinkets and baubles that the frivolous spender would do well to avoid. I had little money left, but I did haggle for a scarf, a fan, and a pin for my hair. Stephanie found a ‘Prada’ handbag, and Emma and Sarah came away laden with impressive purchases.


There is a huge counterfeit industry in China. Because the Chinese must pay import tax (around 30%) on all goods from foreign-owned companies, there is a high demand for fake designer clothing and accessories. The quality ranges from a-grade (indistinguishable from the genuine article, and now unavailable to the public via legal means because of foreign pressure on the government), to b-grade, c-grade, and street-grade. The last tends to be of poor quality, but the others can be quite convincing, and a-grade goods are often sold in illegal, hidden shops that can only be found by getting in the owner’s good opinion.


It would be so easy to spend money here. I think it’s probably just as well I brought a limited amount!


We drove back to the hotel by dusk, to doll up for the last time (my lack of fresh clothes made this quite an effort), and then went to our presentation dinner at the Bian Yi Fang Roast Duck Restaurant, where everyone drank a lot of wine, and I ate more than I ever should again. We were presented with medals, and certificates from Badaling, and in my happiness there was a trace of sadness.


We did, have done it. Like all good things, our trip has come to an end, and I am so sorry to be leaving that the only way I can face it without sorrow is to promise that I will return as soon as I can.

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.

Day Five

I broke off from that last entry quite abruptly because Caroline came in and we had a good chat, mostly about men (it’s actually terrible, how often that topic becomes common ground between women). Back to yesterday, before we get to today. I do feel I have spent half my time here writing about my time here. Every day has been so full that there is always more to jot down!


The hotel last night was so decent I even had a proper shower before dinner, which was, you guessed it, buffet style. Caroline and I went down early to find the ‘bar’ – a fridge with four bottles of wine, Coke, and a few beers. I siphoned lemonade, and talked to Sally, another of the older ladies on the trip, who I congratulated on her determination. I think she and Stephanie are the most inspiring people on this trip. I can only hope that I’m as tough as they are when I get to their years.


Dinner was spicy (by my standards), but I liked the aubergine. Caroline fell asleep at speed again, but I struggled to settle, which was not helped by the noise of an insistent clicking switch a few rooms away.


Our wakeup call today was supposed to be at 6:30, but for some reason we received it at 5:50, getting off lightly, as others received theirs at 4:20! There was another bizarre stray call at 7:05, which told me to ‘get up!’ in no uncertain terms, and hung up.


Today was the best day. Breakfast was the best breakfast we’ve had so far. I had a whole plate of miscellaneous Chinese food (seaweed is all very well, but not for breakfast, I conclude) and a bowl of wonton soup, with little shrimp and greenery and dumplings. It was the best thing I have ever tasted.


Time slipped away, and before eight we were on our way to the coach, and then off to the Cloisonné/ Jingtai Blue factory, where a valuable enamel pottery is made. It is so valuable that it is used as gifts for visiting dignitaries. The Queen owns two massive Cloisonné vases, which are probably similar to the ones I saw in the showroom – ¥4,800,000 a piece! (approx. £480,000)


I bought a thimble for Grandma, and a charm for myself with the animals of the Chinese zodiac. We are a funny family – a snake, a horse, a pig and a rabbit, and my grandmothers are an ox and a dog. What a bunch!


And then we walked, of course. Today we climbed the thousand steps and the Heavenly Ladder at Mutianyu. The first part was a bit of a slog, made only more demoralising by the sight of a snack and drinks stop, where we were told we had made it halfway, but with a bit of effort and a lot of sweat I made it to the top. Perhaps I am just getting used to it, but today actually seemed a bit easier. True, my legs were so tired that they complained at every step, but after surviving yesterday I was fairly sure I would be alright, and I was. The thousand steps were even, so it was really quite civilised, and I even saw a cat on the way up, which I took as a good omen.


The sky was much clearer today, so I got some good photos on the way up to the ladder (and it was up, all the way!). Once there I just went for it. In thirties, then twenties, then tens, fives and ones, I made the steep climb, all the way to the top. It was about four hundred steps, all in all, and at the top when Teri asked us to remember the reasons why we had come, I confess my eyes prickled.


Emma has been keeping a step count on her phone, and thinks that I’ve probably done about 100,000 steps this week, or will have tomorrow, considering that her count is already over 65,000, and she has missed some sizeable chunks on the cable cars. It’s crazy. I never thought I’d be the kind of person capable of this.


After a brief stop for recovery we went back down, and I was fine. Maybe it’s the heat, sending me into a daze. Maybe I’m just too tired to be afraid. At the bottom of the ladder we had lunch – a highly daring foray into the familiar territory of Subway. Mine had by this point long since disintegrated and been consumed to save my bag, but Pria decided that she wasn't hungry, so I had hers too. How awful!


There were options on the descent. Walk the thousand steps again, go by chairlift, or risk the toboggan run. I picked the latter, and I’m glad I did. I went all out on the accelerator in my little cart, and zipped along for almost a whole three minutes, which was quite far when you consider the speed one moves on a skateboard with a ‘go faster’ option. There were attendants on the various bends, all waving us through with laughter – it definitely trumps the enthusiasm of those working at Thorpe Park, I'm telling you.


I got a little carried away, and crashed into the person in front, but not as badly as poor Ronnie, who bruised her entire heel!


Mutianyu was extremely picturesque, and sitting in the Anglicised beer garden of ‘Farmer’s Pizza’/Subway, listening to the Bee Gees and Michael Jackson, I felt a surge of achievement. Only one day to go! I feel, to my great surprise, as though I could keep going.


This evening we checked in at the Juyongguan Great Wall Hotel, which from the outside looks like the grand house of an ancient Chinese warlord, but on the inside it is a tad shabby, and the bathmat is grim beyond the scope of words. Caroline plugged in her phone charger, and one of the lights winked out.


After showering we went out for dinner at the Jade Factory (I was extremely overdressed due to my lack of remaining clothes). The food was tasty, in fact I think the sweet and sour chicken was the best we've had all week, and once we had been suitably stuffed we were taken on a tour through the gallery. A Chinese lady who goes by ‘Anna’ to English visitors told us about the stone. It turns out there are more jades than green and white. It comes in numerous colours, from black to blue and red. Jade varies massively in quality and price, but in general it falls into two categories: hard and soft. Soft is used for colour pigment in expensive paintings, and hard is more desirable for jewellery.


The hardest type is jadeite, which is used in China for bangles. Girls often wear a jade bangle on their left wrist in the hope that this will keep them in good health. With regular wear, jade is liable to change shade, becoming more translucent, yellow, or darker, depending on your body temperature.


All in all, today was a good day, but now bed, on a mattress that seems to provide less support than the cushion of my own body fat. The pillow is full of beads – Teri says it is the Chinese equivalent of memory foam. Hmm...

Day Four

We left Jinshanling at the luxuriously late hour of nine o’clock, not that I ever imagined I’d count 7:30 as a lie-in! Breakfast was simple, but pleasant, and we set off in the misty morning light, back to the section of the wall we left last night. It was a little cooler to start out – I even got to use one of my fleeces. This lasted for all of five minutes, however. By the time we had hurried up to the wall entrance (I lagged some way behind, taking photos), all outer layers had been long since cast aside.


Michael said it would be 24°C today, but Dang Shu said that it was 28°C – ‘not too hot.’ I beg to differ. I quizzed her about her family. Her husband is a builder in Beijing. She walks five days a week, selling things that her extended family makes throughout spring, summer and autumn. In winter her husband comes home, and they have the season off together.


Today’s walk was hard. My legs are starting to ache a little, but it wasn’t so much my body that let me down. I cried today. One of the sections was uphill, and so steep that I froze. It was a mistake, since once I had stopped I could not bring myself to move again. Teri was just in front, so I called to her, and promptly burst into tears because I was so frightened. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid. I don’t think I ever will be again. I was so scared that I can’t even remember where I was. There was nothing but a maw of rolling concrete behind me, before me, a death yawning. I have never felt so mortal, and now that it’s over I feel I can’t even write about it.


It is quite ridiculous when you think about it, but something just snapped. Without Teri’s help I think I would have been there until nightfall, making a tearful crawl down (or up!) to the coach. When I got to the top I was swarmed by people, all concerned, and this was so awful that it set me off again, and again, and again. I couldn’t get a hold of myself until the end of that leg, by which point I had been hugged and petted to a state of burning shame. But I did it.


On our way to tonight's hotel we drove through Huairou district, another area of Beijing, and the place seems fairly decent tonight, despite a minor incident with wrongly programmed room keys. I also opened my suitcase to find a friend I had bought from Jinshanling – a rather disgruntled spider. Ethics aside, I squashed him.


The worst is really over now, and it is a good time to reflect on why I did this, and what it means. I expected challenges when I came here. God knows when we first landed and I realised how far away home is I did feel the grip of trepidation in my stomach. I didn't expect to cry though, or if I did, I never admitted it to myself. I thought it would be a weakness to succumb to fear like that, but having overcome it and survived today I know that I was wrong. I came here to be challenged, even to suffer. However amazing the experience continues to be, today was a stern reminder that this is a pilgrimage on someone else’s behalf. I hope Tommy will be proud of me. I know I am. Whatever happens from here, I survived, and that is an achievement to carry for a lifetime.

Day Three

Day three of my adventure, and the longest walk is done! To my surprise, I have survived, and am now sitting in the comfort of the hotel. We walked from Gobeiku to Jinshanling, across an old rugged stretch of the wall that spanned twenty-seven watchtowers. If I thought yesterday and the day before were difficult, really I had no idea what the word means.


As we left the Impression Inn the girls working there waved us off, and I felt incredibly aware of my privileged existence. Those girls will never go to university, or travel the world. They will work to feed their families, and work until they can work no more. The opportunity for higher education isn’t there. Advancement is a luxury they cannot afford.


The children here go to school for twelve years. At the end of their compulsory education they must take a test, and if they pass (few do), they have the opportunity to go to college in one of the big cities. In rural areas, one or two from each village will be successful. Of these, some go and become city folk, but most rural people are unable to afford the fees.


There is a noticeable division between urban and rural here. A person here is classified as one or the other, and those who fall under the rural category are not entitled to state benefits if they move to the city. The only way to obtain an urban classification is to get a degree. It is an effort at population control, to avoid further crowding in a city so crammed that one half expects to see people swinging hammocks from their windows.


We met some rural people today. The trek leaders call them ‘hello’ ladies. They were nimble, quiet women who spoke only crude English, and helped us on our way in order to sell souvenirs at the end of the day. I learnt two of their names – Dang Shu and Si Pion. The former said that I was beautiful, and that she was old. I bought a book from her in thanks for her help, and watched her begin her long walk home after eight hours trekking with us today.


Their fitness is incredible – they do this every day after all – but it does make me a little sad, knowing that they will probably never be able to afford a holiday.


From Gobeiku we climbed onto the great snaking body of the old wall. Teri told us that this walk would be the most picturesque, and truth be told the views did not disappoint. The cloud was low, and the smog as present as ever, but what I saw today I will carry with me for the rest of my life. All words are an injustice.


In the baking sun (27°C was an understatement!) the ground was parched and dusty. The plants by the sides of the path were beautiful – blue and pink flowers, yellow-leaved berries, and in the valleys below the trees were so lush and undisturbed that it seemed an intrusion just to look.


Much of the wall we crossed today was in ruin, and the steps so uneven that in places I surrendered my poles for my hands, and made my way at a half-crawl. There were narrow ledges walled by sheer drops, and the dust on the ground was poor footing, but I made it. Onward and upward through the morning I clambered, walked and manoeuvred my way along twenty of the watchtowers. It was a great personal achievement, since it was not so long ago that I thought myself incapable of doing such things.


Towards lunchtime the group thinned out somewhat. The Indian ladies powered on ahead, whilst others straggled in twos and threes for about a mile behind. For a long spell I found myself alone, and this was my favourite part of the walk. I stepped off the wall to enjoy the scenery, and looking out over the glowing valleys, I could not have felt more alive.


On my way I met several insect friends, and saw a tiny lizard sunning by the path. I climbed into a watchtower that seemed to teeter on the brink of collapse, and meandered along thinking of little but the wonder of it all. One day I will come back here.


After lunch the terrain proceeded to get even more challenging. Uneven, derelict steps are one thing. Thin, sloping trials through veritable thickets in the tropic midday heat are quite another. The afternoon was rough. The slopes were at such angles that the descents were like stepping off cliffs. The whole way down gravity tugged on my legs, and by the end of it I was more tired than I've ever been before.


Teri fell today. I think it says a lot for the challenge of a trek when even the leader ends up sprawled in a bush!


There were more insects as well. The air was full of beetles that clung to our arms and nestled inside our clothes. They were harmless, but everywhere. I also saw ladybirds, and a few millipedes on the wooded trails. A large hornet landed on Sarah’s neck at one point, and I found a new burst of energy to dodge its attentions. Dang Shu just grimaced when I asked if its sting is dangerous.


What else? On our way we stopped at a tea shop in the middle of nowhere (a farmhouse with a freezer full of ice lollies and a public loo). The hello ladies sat with the doctor – a jovial character who often bursts into song and has allegedly fallen off the wall before.


We reached Jinshanling at about half past six, and proceeded down the road to our hotel. Caroline and I are in the home-stay, just down the road from the main complex. This place is a little more organic than our previous accommodation. Our room is next to the front door, and in the room opposite there was a noisy game of mahjong going on when we arrived.


It is quiet now, and I am writing this in the half-light of the foyer coming through the window’s privacy curtain. I just heard a few of our company come in, but Caroline is fast asleep. I will be as soon as I set down my pen, I expect. It has been a long, sweaty day.


The room is a little shabby, it is true, and the duvet smells damp. The bathroom is a wet-room with nothing to stop the whole place from flooding, and my mattress has the thickness and texture of a surfboard, but a damp duvet is a washed duvet. I could sleep anywhere tonight, to be honest.

Day Two

Huangyaguan today, and I am pleased to report an excellent night’s rest. Caroline said that she got up during the night, but I was as far from consciousness as a living person can be. So much for the infinite energy of youth! I woke up this morning feeling refreshed, and completed breakfast – orange juice and two plates of food, none of which I could identify. I think I am really getting into Chinese food, though the abundance of green peppers and garlic I find less to my taste.


Last night we walked to a restaurant a block or two away, and had a buffet dinner, featuring a stew riddle with whole garlic cloves. I do feel sorry for Mr Luo, our driver, because after a day sweating on the wall we are going to be awful company!


I was a little concerned yesterday that my stomach was beginning to disagree with the sudden change of diet, but the supposed delicacy of the English constitution has been bested. My queasiness has abated, and having managed a full portion of dumplings, sweat breads and noodles (which looked rather like pale worms), I am ready for the first trek.


We are on the coach now, kitted up and ready to go. I am confident that today will present minimal strain, but let’s hope that doesn't tempt fate!

***

En route to Huangyaguan we have made easy progress as far as six miles from the wall, passing by and through seas of cars, farms and street sellers. The main thing available by the roadside is fruit, both fresh and pickled in large jars. The road is climbing now, winding up through dusty villages and shanty towns. Even here the smog is thick, and the air is dry. The sides of the road are vast hillsides covered in trees and red vines.


I have seen little wildlife save a bird with a coral-red beak and a long black tail cut with white (a type of blue magpie, I later discovered). In Beijing there were many dogs, and on the road I saw an open lorry brimming with live pigs, but there are few visible animals here.


The roads seem to be a wild west, lined with ‘buckle up’ signs. There are more motorbikes than I have ever seen – most with attached carts for carrying wares and passengers. I think this has something to do with the challenge of acquiring a car. Michael says the Beijing city government operates a lottery every two months, in which 20,000 people win a number plate. In a city with such a large population, it is easy to see how one may need to find an alternative.


I think we must be close to the wall now, but the traffic is moving at no great speed. Out of the window I can see the stone the road has been cut out of. It is white and streaked with purplish rose. On my other side I can see an enormous lake, and the trees we just passed had orange fruit growing on them.


We must be nearly there. Poor Emma keeps nodding off in front, but one last thing! I have used a ‘hole in the ground’ toilet. Like a bizarre christening, I feel it is a step on the road to becoming a seasoned traveller, and really, it’s not so bad!

***

I take back what I said about the toilets. A clean hole in the ground is quite acceptable. A dirty one is a sight to turn the stomach, and the task of holding wipes between your teeth, a nappy sack on your arm, your bag off the floor, and the door closed is like the worst type of yoga.


I stunk when I finished today. My clothes were sticking to me in the most unflattering fashion, and having completed our first trek, all I wanted was a shower, which I got!


It is evening now, and we are at the Impression Inn, in Miyun district. I fell asleep on the coach after the walk, but before that I managed to stay awake long enough to watch most of our descent down the mountain. The sun was beginning to set, the rivers were green, and the light was the kind of light that is too subtle and spectacular to ever be caught on camera. I saw scattered high rises, but I think I also saw a little more of ‘real’ China.


Only 30% of the people here live in the cities, the rest being farmers. I saw a family washing their clothes in the river, a flock of geese paddling, and more fruit being sold by the wayside than it seems any country could ever consume. I saw the sun through the turning leaves, and I thought, in the most cliché self-discovery travel narrative fashion, ‘this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.’ When the aches kick in tomorrow perhaps I will change my mind, or, memory being fickle, I will forget how beautiful it was, but at the moment I want nothing more than to do this for as long as I am able.


As I was saying to Rosemary, a lady I bonded with in mutual fear of the perilous sections of the wall traversed today, this does all seem like a dream. I think when I get home I will wake up and think ‘I actually went. Why did I spend the whole thing in such a daze?’


Of course I must write about the wall. When I get back and flick through the photos of myself standing there, I still don’t think I’ll quite believe that I was there today.


After our long drive we pulled up before a large gate, and bundled out into the hazy sunshine. We passed the statue of Qi Jiguang, a famous Chinese general who defended China from pirates during the 16th century, and climbed up to the wall. This section we walked on today has been partially reconstructed, but has stood for six hundred years, originally bordering Mongolia.


I was wrong about the first day being easy. We walked for a few hours today, but because of the national holiday it was busy from start to finish. The Chinese tourists were there too with their entire families, from crying babies to tiny dogs that had to be carried up most of the steps. It was an utter crush of people. Today it was about 23°C, and also windless, which needless to say did little to encourage progress through the masses. Teri, the other English leader, said it is the busiest she has ever seen it, and this is her 37th venture to the wall!


Tomorrow we will be going to a different section, so hopefully there will be less people, though the temperature is going to climb up to 27°C, which does not bear contemplation.


I found today harder than I was expecting to, and though my body made it without too much suffering to show the challenge (taping up my knees as a preventative measure was a wise decision), I found the day’s walk a psychological struggle. Not so much on the steps, but on the sections without any steps at all. Whilst the steps were steep, and in places greatly uneven, I suffered most of the slopes. With few footholds, and plummet down the mountainside looming beyond the rusting handrail, my knees trembled.


It’s funny, because I have never thought of myself as height-phobic, but today I really was scared. Not crying, where-is-my-mum scared, but I’ve-got-no-choice-but-to-face-death kind of scared. By the end of it I felt really quite battered in spirit, which is perhaps why I fell asleep on the coach so easily. Words fail to express how glad I am I took my walking poles and tape – without these cushions for my fraying confidence I am not sure I would have made it without some kind of outburst.


Stephanie struggled too, but we made it, and tomorrow the terrain is going to be different, so fingers crossed the challenge will become more physical than mental.


Wandering through the tourist market at the base, I was tempted by souvenirs, but I have decided to save the bulk on my cash for the last day.


Sad news: I broke the teapot I bought at the bead market. A moment’s silence please. To my great embarrassment, when I was unpacking it slipped out and smashed on the floor, but at least I have a whole week to find another one.


We had a snack before lunch, and I think it was the fabled papple. It had the taste of a pear, but the crisp texture of a Gala apple. Lunch itself was hosted in a restaurant across the carpark, and I sat with the five ladies who I think are mostly from India, with one possibly from Kuwait (how awful is it that I can't remember!). They were very friendly, and talkative, and we had an enjoyable feast of fish and stir-fried vegetables. I do think that most of the vegetables this week are going to be much the same because of the season’s availability, but it is pleasant to feel that one is partaking in an authentic native diet.


Aside from my protein snacks, I have vowed not to touch English food whilst I am here. We are being well fed in any case. I will be going home with more of a bloated stomach than a six pack at this rate!


After the coach we went straight to shower, and have since had dinner – another buffet, featuring tomato soup and honeyed aubergine, both of which I would like to take home. I tried more Chinese beer, and have concluded that it is marginally better than Fosters, but still quite grim.


One last thing before I turn in, which I have been meaning to write all day. There are four colours of taxi in Beijing: white, green, blue and maroon, each with a wide yellow stripe. This is not a price indicator, but a colour scheme to match the four seasons – how cute is that?


I am going to turn in now as tomorrow will be long. Teri says this place is one for mosquitoes. Let’s hope my dubious bug repellent moisturiser does what it claims!


Day two conclusion: I wonder if I can apply for a student visa.