Hey
The Great Wall
"Are you OK? Do you need help?"
Why did she keep asking me this? Was it my heaving chest, the coarse panting of breath, the buckling of my legs, or my weaving, lunging walk of a drunk? We were told the locals would make sure we were 'safe' on the wall, but she said she was a local farmer and wanted to sell me a t-shirt.
"No, I'm OK," I replied each time, eyes set on the next incline with hundreds of giant steps up to the next tower -- after 30 towers, I would reach the 'finish line'.
Yesterday we hiked the Great Wall from Jinshanling to Simatai, 10 KM and 4 hours of steep slopes and steps along the ridge line of jaggy mountains with the Mongolian border to our left, China to our right. It was a strenuous rhythm of climb and descent the entire way along this less-touristed stretch of the Great Wall. I had to remind myself to stop and gaze upon the amazing scenery and take in the fact that I was standing on a piece of architecture that can be seen from the moon. At all other times, my mind was set in concentration to ignore the pain and watch my step along the crubmling stretches of the wall that has fallen in disrepair.
The sky was hazy, a thin veil of fog clung to the mountain tops as tightly as the wall itself. Off in the distance, the towers that are strung along the wall intermittently jut upwards to the sky, silhouetted against a disappearing horizon. The gray color of stone winds a lonesome path against dark green vegetation.
At the end of our walk, my legs were jello -- quads and calves felt as if they would burst from my skin with each stair. The hike came to an end at Simatai, where I chose to zip line across a small river to a boat which would take me to the parking lot and finally, to our bus. I was looking forward to the three hour drive back to Beijing. I needed a rest. Benjamin, feeling less adventurous or maybe a glutton for punishment, chose to walk another 15 minutes.
Why did she keep asking me this? Was it my heaving chest, the coarse panting of breath, the buckling of my legs, or my weaving, lunging walk of a drunk? We were told the locals would make sure we were 'safe' on the wall, but she said she was a local farmer and wanted to sell me a t-shirt.
"No, I'm OK," I replied each time, eyes set on the next incline with hundreds of giant steps up to the next tower -- after 30 towers, I would reach the 'finish line'.
Yesterday we hiked the Great Wall from Jinshanling to Simatai, 10 KM and 4 hours of steep slopes and steps along the ridge line of jaggy mountains with the Mongolian border to our left, China to our right. It was a strenuous rhythm of climb and descent the entire way along this less-touristed stretch of the Great Wall. I had to remind myself to stop and gaze upon the amazing scenery and take in the fact that I was standing on a piece of architecture that can be seen from the moon. At all other times, my mind was set in concentration to ignore the pain and watch my step along the crubmling stretches of the wall that has fallen in disrepair.
The sky was hazy, a thin veil of fog clung to the mountain tops as tightly as the wall itself. Off in the distance, the towers that are strung along the wall intermittently jut upwards to the sky, silhouetted against a disappearing horizon. The gray color of stone winds a lonesome path against dark green vegetation.
At the end of our walk, my legs were jello -- quads and calves felt as if they would burst from my skin with each stair. The hike came to an end at Simatai, where I chose to zip line across a small river to a boat which would take me to the parking lot and finally, to our bus. I was looking forward to the three hour drive back to Beijing. I needed a rest. Benjamin, feeling less adventurous or maybe a glutton for punishment, chose to walk another 15 minutes.
posted by Cheryn at 10:45 AM
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