Windows on the Wall

The poster in the hostel reception reads ‘Cycle the Wall.’ Looking for something a little different, this catches my attention. What could be more fun than cycling along narrow quiet country lanes in the shadow of the Great Wall? Perfect! We booked with little hesitation and were happy to hear that we would join just two others to make a small group. After weeks on the road traveling I am ready to let someone else take charge of my third visit to the ‘Wall’. The door to door service will take the hassle out of coming and going – I can just relax and enjoy the experience. What I imagine and the reality of it would prove to be two very different things.

I sit gazing through a window, once again catching my breath, this time at the peak of our climb. The view is breath taking, stunning – what I imagined and yet nothing like I had imagined. The hills are steep, and the wall follows the ridges from peak into valley and up to peak again with towers at regular intervals – so much closer than I had imagined. Despite being exhausted before I begin the climb, I have managed to scale what I consider to be a significant challenge for me. Apart from a small section near the road, this part of the wall remains virtually un-restored. It won’t belong however, before it teams with life again.

We set out early and eat breakfast while we wait for the other half of our small group to arrive. Leaving Beijing, we hope to shrug off the gray murky air that hangs over the city for most of the summer. On the way out of town, Bruce, our guide briefs us in general but deliberately withholds details allowing us to be both surprised and excited by the exploration of our surroundings. Finally the van stops and we unload our bikes. I’ve never heard of the section of the wall that we are to explore. But there is no sign of any wall. Perhaps it’s just over the next hill. We begin the ascent. Not quite what I had in mind but I am the first to make it to the top.

My leg muscles are screaming – ‘enough, enough’. I have cycled barely a kilometer and the incline is not steep, but my muscles are burning. Although it is mostly flat country there are a few long slow inclines that continue to sap my energy. On the crest of this first small hill I wait in the shade of some trees for my companions to catch me up. I contemplate nearly twenty kilometers pushing peddles through rice paddies. Will I make it? Or will I take the soft option and put my bike back in the van at our disposal?

As I wait, I survey the valley from this vantage point. The road descends slowly, disappearing from view and reappearing after a switchback on the far side of the valley, disappearing again around the next spur as it approaches the small village on the valley floor. Still no sight of that elusive wall! I wonder why we have not begun our ride from this high point. My legs recover while I wait. The prospect of the long, exhilarating coast down into the valley has me rolling slowly off as the others come into view. I will get this same feeling of elation again and again throughout the day as I overcame some other challenges that rise before me.

Without waiting for the others – gravity tugs at my tires – I am off into the valley. There is barely any traffic. It’s an exhilarating rush as I pick up speed whooping and hollering for all the world to hear, eventually stopping to wait beside a work crew on the bend above the village. They are stonemasons working on a roadside park and sculpture and they are curious, as I have arrived alone. We chat a little before the others join me. From here we proceed together through the countryside, through small villages, between fields of corn, small crops and orchards with the hills in the distance.

Much of the road is lined with tall slender birch trees some of which are being felled. While fallen trees cross the road, blocking traffic for some minutes we slip silently by, with the buzz of the chainsaw and a flurry of leaves and sawdust floating on the light breeze. It’s fine and hot but our surroundings remain shrouded in the haze that hangs in the air like the sepia tones of old photographs. Finally we get our first glimpse of the wall. No matter where I see the wall it is always an awesome sight and none more so than here as it snakes majestically across the countryside, its serrated spine like that of the dragon, slithering out of sight. Now just two kilometers away we pile our bikes back into the van and drive the short distance into the village, parking at a restaurant with a magnificent view of the breached wall.

Here the valley is narrow and the dam across the breach in the wall holds back a small reservoir.
During the war the Japanese bombed the wall to build a road through the pass. The valley was later dammed. My legs are screaming again as I climb the stairs to the rooftop. We choose a table in the shade with a cool breeze and the best view. Over lunch, while we discuss the climb my legs recover but I have doubts about my ability to keep up with the other three for what will undoubtedly be the most grueling stage of the tour. There is almost no one here apart from us.

From where we sit enjoying our lunch, the wall is close, enticing, mysterious, but steep whichever way you look at it. Excited as I am at the prospect of walking on an almost deserted wall, I am beginning to regret having done the cycle. I feel absolutely exhausted even before we start. The plan is to leave the van here in the village if any of us need to return it will wait one hour. After that it will leave for the rendezvous point on the other side of the ridge. Bruce volunteers to carry all our extra water and even volunteers to carry us out if necessary. He has done this once before when a client stumbled and broke a limb. His fitness, capability, and concern are all reassuring as we set off.

The sun is high by the time we begin our ascent on this silent sleeping serpent. Across the street we dive into the shrubbery and are immediately clambering up the steep slope beside the wall. We pass no ticket gates and eventually are able to climb onto the smooth pavement of the freshly renovated wall. We are all dripping with sweat. We climb, walking a zig zag path across the face of the wall which drops steeply out of sight beneath us. With already blistered feet from breaking in new shoes, I’m only wearing thongs, which I quickly discard. The smooth new paving stones beneath my feet are warm and soothing and safe. I seldom go barefoot in China – it’s simply too dirty – so this is one of those incredibly memorable moments – don’t laugh.

The view is stunning, especially looking back towards the wall, the dam and the lake. We are the only people on this side of the valley apart form the restoration crew working over the hill. Looking west, I count at least a dozen more towers, all in need of repair and spaced at regular intervals. It’s a solitary place and the soldiers must have felt intense isolation and loneliness. Beneath each tower are small cramped quarters built to house the men stationed on the wall. The hillsides are surprisingly steep and no effort is made to reduce the gradient of the smoothly paved deck or the steps with risers as deep as my calf length.

A thick cover of green blankets the hills all around, with a smattering of purple flowers and rocky outcrops peeking through. In spring time the valley is decked in yellow blossoms, which gives the area its name, Huang Hua Cheng. Stopping frequently to catch my breath, I stand in awe, dripping wet and take in the surrounding vistas. While the wall is in reasonably good condition the stairs, paving stones and towers are not. For much of the way, we scramble over rubble and what remains of the stairs to the first watchtower overlooking the reservoir.

The stonemasons are living in a watchtower in the next valley. Each day they climb the steep wall many times over. The restoration is an arduous task in this heat and most probably as bad during the cold winter months. We make our decent into the valley, slipping off the wall, down through the scrub into the gully, past the old stone gate across the stream and follow a narrow path used by farmers for generations into the village. To our surprise we meet a convoy of packhorses loaded with cement and paving stones. We stand aside to let them pass. With just two bags of cement or twenty paving stones per horse per trip it is slow and tedious and the horses are in no hurry to climb this rugged little path. Change comes hard and slow in the mountains of China.

Suddenly we are at the bottom of the hill, walking into the village, our rendezvous point, but the day is far from over. It’s been a short walk, but an afternoon of serendipitous moments. While Bruce contacts our driver we sit in the shade of the small thatched roof cabana sipping ice-old beer – a welcome reward on such a hot afternoon. This little village is both quiet and bustling. With the Great Wall literally in their backyards, many of the locals are building small guesthouses and restaurants in the hope of reaping some of the benefits that increased tourism will bring their way when the restored ‘wall’ officially opens to the public in May 2007.

I look up with camera poised to take another shot. This is the final photo in my window on the wall. A farmer stands in silhouette against the window of a crumbling watchtower.



Huang Hua Cheng officially open to the public May 2007
Gate price -unknown
PUblic transport available - Lonely Planet has details
Overnight accommodation available - guesthouses and restaurants beneath the wall and in the village. Shop around for the best prices.
Treks can be made from here to other sections of the wall (Mu Tian Yu)

Tours - Cycle China Y300 per person (min 4) Worth every penny of it.
Hotel pickup from about 7.00am till 6.00pm
All equipment and lunch provided with competent guide

Drive out about one hour
Cycle for about two hours - very leisurely
Walk about two hours
Return trip about two hours