The Wall

The Great Wall is a monumental edifice to folly and government expense. With that said, it is also monumentally awesome.

The Wall is not really one wall, but really a series of fortifications that stretch nearly the entire length of northern China. The largest stretch was built by the Ming in the 14th-16th centuries, and stretches more than 3,000 kilometers. Wikipedia informs me that the Chinese have been building walls for nearly 3000 years, and that all the combined walls that are grouped under the "Great Wall" category amount to more than 50,000 kilometers, and include everything from a dirt fortification to advanced military structures as strong, or stronger than, modern base fortifications.

Unfortunately for the Ming Dynasty, who spent what would today be valued in billions of dollars of government spending on the Wall, it was ultimately useless in repelling the barbarian hordes to the north. Ming's fortunes fell, and with them so did the Wall's maintenance.

Looking at the newly repaired section of wall at Mutan-Yu from the parking lot about three hundred meters below, I am initially distinctly underwhelmed. I hesitate to mention this to my new friends, Mike, Anne, and a couple from Quebec whose names escape me. I don't want to lose any traveling cred in front of Mike and Anne, who have spent the last year or so on more or less permanent honeymoon, and have spent the last month getting around China via busses and other forms of overland travel. Before China, they'd spent time in Africa and South America, getting around the same way. They are Jedi Masters of travel, and I make it a point to ask as many questions as I can think of. We'd met at the bus stop, gotten to know each other on the ride to the Wall, and by the time we'd gotten there, were well on our way to becoming fast friends.

Navigating our way through the minefield of souvenir shacks, hawkers, and other tourists, we arrived at the base of the actual wall after a short, but steep hike up a cliffside. To either direction the Wall stretched off ... forever.

It took a second for my brain to fully adjust to what I was seeing. The wall snaked its way through mountains and valleys to the east and west, mostly trying to follow major ridgelines and keeping out of the valleys. The perhaps three kilometer section we occupied was pristine, restored very recently at the behest of the Chinese Tourism Bureau, but it was when you looked past the restored section that the real Wall made itself known.

In the distance, ruined watchtowers stood over a line of deteriorating stone as far as the eye could see. Like excited schoolchildren, Mike and I rushed to the edge of the Wall and squinted our eyes, trying to find the furthest watchtower. We pointed, trying to coordinate and follow the wild portions of the Wall as they became more distant and more weathered by time. To our right, the Wall stretched on for perhaps twenty or thirty miles, matching the curves of the ancient mountain range. To our left, there was a slight dip and then the Wall went nearly straight up a mountain, with a lonely ruined watchtower at the very peak.    

 

I am overwhelmed with history – again.

We make our way up the hill to the right, which seems to peak about where the restoration stops. Keeping pace with our Quebequois friends, who are a little bit older than Mike, Anne and I, we head first down, then up. I am babbling like an idiot about how much effort it would take to staff and supply the entire wall, and how its very design makes it nearly impossible. You'd need hundreds of thousands of me, and you'd have to pay, feed, clothe, arm and train them. The logistics nightmare makes my head hurt just thinking about it. My new civilian friends are both amused and interested, and I enlighten them about the less glamorous realities of military life, which I imagine the soldiers that manned the Great Wall lived every day. I wonder if five hundred years ago instead of getting NJPed, you just had to run to a certain watchtower and back.

The only upside to having a thing like the Great Wall is that you'd have a shockingly fit fighting force, as getting anywhere on the wall in a hurry is a cardio workout that would leave even the best of modern solders sucking wind.

When we reach the end of the restored Wall we are confronted with an open doorway leading to a section of wall that is overgrown and patchy, a half torn down watchtower beckons in the distance, and Mike and I look at each other.

I point at the sign that tells people not to go any further. It's been ripped out of the ground and thrown to the side, and would be easy to miss if you weren't looking. "I don't see that."

"Neither do I."

It turns out we have nothing to worry about. Hidden behind the trees growing on the wall, ten or so other tourists have had the same idea as us, and are occupying the ruined watchtower. This section of the wall is much more interesting, and I can feel myself straining to keep exploring the wild section, just to see how far I can go.

And of course, we do. Mike, Anne and I, bidding our Canuck friends farewell, (they had to leave early, and really couldn't keep up with us anyway), make our way further along the Wall to the next watchtower, which is significantly more ruined and therefore, in my eyes, significantly less interesting. We are alone, and we spend the time telling stories and joking about how the government was going to come after us. If they did, they were in for more walking than I'd want to do as a cop.

At the second watchtower, we broke for lunch. Mike and Anne told me stories of their travels, and very generously shared their food with me. I'd forgotten to pack any, and was rather embarrassed with my lack of preparedness. Some Eagle Scout, I'd brought a trauma kit, flashlight, 550 cord, some chemlights, a foil emergency blanket, beanie and gloves, but no food. At least I brought some water.

After lunch we made our way to the other side of the Wall. It was a long, hard vertical slog that was made that much easier by being with friends. I probably would have done it on my own, but I also probably wouldn't have enjoyed it nearly as much.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we reached the opposite end of the developed section, and we had spent more than 5 hours exploring the Wall.

Mike is charitably described as an aggressive negotiator, and while on the Wall I'd watched him haggle with every Chinese drink peddler we'd passed, trying to angle the best deal for beer and water. On our way to the opposite end, we'd managed to acquire five beers and two Gatorades at what I considered to be a steal.

The final watchtower in the developed section requires a 300 meter nearly vertical ascent, with a false step resulting in the unwary tumbling back down the stairs for the whole distance you'd climbed. Naturally we decided to celebrate our injury-free ascent by cracking a brew or two. I was introduced to the tradition of Gatorbeer, and will probably pass it on.

As I sat, sipping the watery Chinese beer that somehow tasted exceedingly delicious with the victory of our ascent, I almost couldn't believe that I was in China, drinking beer on the Great Wall with friends I had made only hours before. Life is grand.

- Doug