Well… It is!
It takes 3 hours to get there by bus. And you look at it from a distance… and it’s just a wall. Then you’re actually standing on it (after being soft and paying the cable car cost to be home delivered to the top of the mountain – we’re obviously not roughing it like the hard core travelers who insisted on walking up…) and it’s a bit breathtaking.
You’re walking around on broken tiles and worn paths that people have been walking over for thousands of years. You imagine the Chinese and Mongolians taunting each other in bygone swear words with the wall between them like a mum separating two arguing siblings. But they have guns. And horses… And actually that’ll a really bad analogy.
But you’re there. And it’s mindblowly cool and yet oh-so-simple.
I’ve been to the wall before. Nothing is like that first rush of knowing you’re standing on the ghostly bones of history. This time I’m on a different section – much older, not as well maintained. Slightly treacherous for someone wearing sand shoes rather than hiking boots.
After 3 hours of trekking (and about 20 minutes of on-and-off whinging about getting a heat rash on my arms – everyone give Ee a quiet round of applause for putting up with my vanities…) we were BUGGERED. But happy. Filled to the rim with walking and breathing in the spirits of time gone past.
Last day in China before we train it out of this truck stop. Not a bad way to spend it – yelling greetings into the wind from the top of a wall, perched somewhere near the peak of the wold…