Recognise this? (Hint: look at the photo up top)

On our first visit to the Gubeikou-Simatai section of wall, we didn’t really understand how unique it is among Beijing Great Wall sites. While some sites cater to the demands of mass tourism – Badaling, Mutianyu – they’ve done so at the expense of conservation, with long sections of original wall actually destroyed to make way for reconstructions. Other sections we’ve hiked – the Beijing Knot and Jiankou – are beautifully preserved, but unless you’re a pretty fit hiker, you’re not all that likely to see them.

Along the wall from Gubeikou to Simatai, the demands of tourism and conservation are, at least for now, in a kind of balance. The pass at Gubeikou is completely authentic; as one interpretive sign proudly states without exaggeration, every single brick on the Gubeikou wall is original. There is some reconstruction at Jinshanling and Simatai, and while it would have been better if the original wall had been left alone, at least the reconstructed sections are built upon original foundations and seem to us to be well done. In places it’s hard to tell where original wall ends and reconstruction begins.

Emma walking on an original section

This is part of the three-kilometre reconstructed section near Jinshanling

The reddish bricks are original and the newer bricks are grey

At the same time, it’s not difficult to get to the wall at any of the main access points. The walking is challenging in places, but also comfortable enough that even beginning hikers or those with physical limitations can get on the wall for a good stroll.

The hiking was so pleasant . . .

that even Emma was persuaded to smile . . .

while I remained cheerful as ever

It would be nice to think that this happy balance will last forever, but there are a few signs that it might not. The reconstructed section at Jinshanling, near the mid-point of the hike, is quite recent; and this being China, it would be naïve to think that the original stretches of wall from Gubeikou to Simatai are safe from “improvement.” There is more than enough – far more than enough – reconstructed wall in the Beijing area for anyone to get an idea of what the wall looked like 500 years ago. It’s hard to imagine what good could come from additional reconstruction.

When sections are reconstructed, buildings like this are destroyed

A more present-day concern is that the wall just doesn’t seem well managed. We saw numerous recently constructed paved pathways and staircases between Gubeikou and Simatai, and though we can see a place for minor trail improvements built in accordance with an actual management plan, the little projects we saw looked more like ad hoc jobs done more or less for the hell of it.

An example of “21st Century Staircase for Tourists”

You can see a paved path to the left of the wall

In addition, we were asked to pay for “tickets” on five separate occasions: twice from well-marked ticket offices that were obviously legitimate, once from a woman in a Great Wall T-shirt who was probably legitimate, once from a group of women with no identification who were probably not legitimate, and once from a farmer with a hand-written note in English requesting payment for a detour through the fields, which was probably not official but seems reasonable. At the last legal watchtower at Simatai, the security guards offered to look away for 20 RMB if we wanted to hike past the “Entry Prohibited” signs to the dangerous and fragile sixteenth watchtower (we declined the offer). The amount of money involved in this small-time fee gouging and bribery is trivial from the perspective of most tourists, but that’s not really the point – if our experience with fees and regulations is any indicator of the overall quality of the management of the wall from Gubeikou to Simatai, its future is far from secure.

Taken individually, none of the problems we encountered is the end of the world, and they didn’t really affect our enjoyment of the day’s hike. But when problems like this are taken together, multiplied over time, and combined with increasing tourist pressure, this is how places can get ruined. And when you consider that Gubeikou to Simatai is really the only Great Wall site where most people can experience long sections of original, unreconstructed wall without crowds, carnival rides and (too many) vendors, that would be a terrible shame.

So we’d been hiking for about 15 minutes this morning when a grapefruit-sized rock came flying out of nowhere and hit me in the face. I mean, hell, why not? They way things have been going lately I was practically expecting it.

We were a bit worried that some dirt or gravel was inside the cut, so we came back to Beijing to have it looked at. The good news is that the wound needed nothing more than a good irrigation and a few stitches. The bad news is that I’m not allowed to sweat for the next 24 hours, to give the cut a chance to close before I start pouring my own salt and dirt into it. That means tomorrow is another day off, the fifth day in a row we’ve made no substantial progress and the eleventh in the past 16 days.

Tomorrow afternoon we’ll head back to Zunhua, and the day after – if fortune smiles on us – we’ll try to string together two consecutive hours of hiking. Wish us luck – if you don’t see another cranky post from us, you’ll know we’re back on our way.

Jiankou Cliffs is the steepest, most vertiginous, most dangerous section of the entire Great Wall of China. But would we at Walking the Wall let a few sheer hundred-metre dropoffs stop us?

Well, yeah.

But let’s back up a few steps. We set out the morning after we hiked the Beijing Knot with every intention of conquering, besting – in fact, utterly humiliating – the Jiankou Great Wall. We’d heard some dark rumours that it was “not possible” to get over the cliffs, but we treated these rumours like most advice we receive that contradicts whatever we hope for and scoffed at them. Besides, the hikers we spoke with who seemed most knowledgeable about the area – mostly experienced Chinese hikers from Beijing – all assured us that it could be done, though it would be very difficult with packs, they said.

Emma (the blue and orange dot toward the top) making her way around one of the “easy” bits

We did progress quite nicely for a while. Emma faced down her fear of heights and scrambled up some crumbly slopes. I managed to swing my stubby legs over stairsteps designed for giants (with child-sized boots).

What, me worry?

Where’s the escalator?

And so we made our way forward, slowly but determined to have a go. That is, until we reached this:

The steep part is where it turns to the right

At the turn shown above, the unbelievably steep staircases gave way to rocks cemented together in a nearly vertical wall that was impossible to ascend without the use of all four limbs. Now, we have a sort of safety rule pertaining to cliffs, boulders and other obstacles of the vertical persuasion: if we have to use our hands for much more than stabilisation or the odd short scramble, we turn around. In other words, no rock climbing.

And just where is that rule written?

As you can see, I did bend our rule a bit – without pack – to see if there was any way we could manage what was ahead. Though I got past the scary climbing section and beyond – enough to ascertain that it is definitely possible to go all the way to the next section, Mutianyu – it was also pretty apparent that to climb the Jiankou cliffs wearing 20-kilogram packs would be to take on a bit more risk than we care to. In the end we headed back to the valley, taking a five kilometre detour to rejoin the wall, a few hundred metres further than where we left it and well beyond the cliffs.

The view as we walked back toward the Beijing Knot, tails between legs

When we turned away from the Yellow River a few weeks ago and headed northeast along the Shanxi-Inner Mongolia border, we felt like we had passed an important milestone in our journey. We’d completed roughly two-thirds of the hike. We were moving from the western provinces of Gansu, Ningxia and Shaanxi to the eastern provinces of Shanxi, Beijing and Hebei. And we were leaving behind the desert and climbing into the mountains.

The wall ascending a ridge above the village of Baiyangkou, Shanxi province

The eastern turn from the Yellow River also marked an important transition for the builders of the Great Wall. Though the wall is generally thought of as a defensive structure, in the west it had offensive functions as well. In Gansu the wall served as a frontier outpost in a region that was and remains heavily Central Asian in character. In Shaanxi’s Ordos region the wall was an attempt at defining a permanent border in a highly contested area with a long history of shifting frontiers. But from the Yellow River eastward, the wall’s primary reason for being was defensive: to protect the Ming capital of Beijing.

A boy watches us from a fort in the village of Madaoju, not far from the Yellow River

Left unprotected, this pass would allow easy entry to Zhangjiakou, just over 200 kilometres from Beijing

The character of the wall along the Shanxi-Inner Mongolia border seemed to us to reflect this change in purpose. In the west, the wall was generally built of erodible materials – rammed earth or adobe – and like the borders it defined or reinforced, it seemed impermanent. The wall we’ve traveled along for the past few weeks is made of brick and stone, and it was built to last.

Around 500 years after it was built, this tower shows almost no signs of wear and tear

We had seen the occasional stone and brick beacon tower when we were in Shaanxi (two a’s), but in Shanxi (one a) stone and brick towers became the norm. Nearly all of these towers were imposing brick structures with massive stone foundations; many were beautiful as well, with keyhole windows, nameplates and elaborate carvings.

We have no way of measuring, but we’d guess this tower is no less than 15 metres high, probably more

The distinctive keyhole windows visible on this tower allowed archers to get off shots unimpeded while remaining protected

Many of the towers we see have spots for nameplates, but nearly all of them have been removed

Since we’ve crossed the border from Shanxi into Hebei, the province that surrounds Beijing (and our last province), the wall has come to resemble even more the traditional image of the Great Wall. Virtually all of the wall we walk along these days is made of stone, and often it snakes along high, windy ridgetops for miles on end.

Many sections of stone wall, like this one, have no mortar

A classic ridgetop view

The views from the top are great of course, but the pretty scenery comes at a cost – and unfortunately, the only forms of payment accepted are burning thighs and aching joints.

Emma speeding uphill

On the narrower ridges, the footing can get rough and rocky

Just when we thought spring was here to stay, we climbed right back into winter – fresh snow the morning of April 16