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.