Induction Into The Wall Of Fame

Upon arriving in Beijing, our first and most pressing priority was to formulate a plan for visiting the much-hallowed Great Wall. With the benefit of our friend Suvarna's Beijing Luxe guide and a little perseverance, we managed to make our own independent arrangements in a manner that avoided the touristy, over-trafficked parts of the Wall and afforded us complete autonomy over our schedule.

We opted to hire a car and driver for the day from a reputable local chauffeur service to ferry us three hours out of town to a remote stretch of the Wall called Jin Shan Ling. From Jin Shan Ling, we planned to hike four hours east over rugged, unrestored sections to the outpost of Simatai. Our driver, having already gone ahead, would meet up with us there and return us to our hotel for a hot shower and a much-deserved celebratory drink.

After an elevator-music-filled three-hour journey (may Lionel Ritchie and Kenny G. forever burn in hell) in the plush back seat of a Hyundai Sonata, we were chomping at the bit for some outdoor activity. When we arrived at Jin Shan Ling, courtesy of a rickety cable car, we found that the initial section of the Great Wall was in very good condition. As we progressed a bit further, however, making our way slowly toward Simatai, conditions quickly deteriorated. Some of the passes looming before us left us in disbelief with their vertigo-inducing height, uneven, crumbled footsteps and treacherous descents.

Despite the considerable exertion required over the course of the 10-kilometer plus journey, the views from the Wall to the surrounding countryside were quite simply divine and awe-inspiring. The Simatai section of the Great Wall has been justifiably designated as a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage. We were especially fortunate to embark upon our excursion on an uncharacteristically-clear and temperate spring day. Bright blue skies provided vivid contrast to the ruins stretching before us and the 70 degree temperatures allowed us to truly enjoy the open air and sweeping sightlines of the route. It was surreal to consider that the remote towers appearing in the distance would be standing directly before us within an hour or two.

Reputed to stretch over 3,000 miles from the Gobi Desert to the East China Sea, the Great Wall should serve as a conspicuous historical example of the futility of using a physical barrier, however imposing, to blockade unwanted immigrants (Colorado congressman Tom Tancredo, he of Mexican border fence fame, should take particular note). Primarily designed to keep out Mongolian invaders (the Wall often abuts hills on the southern Mongolian plains), its defenses proved vulnerable to good old-fashioned corruption (Genghis Khan apparently just bribed Chinese sentries to gain access). Originally constructed in parts, the Wall's unification was overseen by the first Chinese emperor during the Qin dynasty over 2,000 years ago. Major construction and fortification work leading to the development of the modern Wall occurred during the Ming Dynasty some 400-600 years ago.

The first few of the 25 or so towers marking the hike were crowded with tourists and vendors alike. In an effort to evade the advances of locals eager to befriend us in exchange for financial remuneration down the line, we rushed to continue along on our way. Unfortunately, Vik's haste to create some distance between us and a particularly-persistent hawker led to his twisting his right ankle. After grimacing in pain and holding his shin for a few moments, Vik was persuaded to continue through a cocktail of shame, stubborn pride and the realization that`he really had no viable alternative but to continue. After passing through another tower, Vik's efforts were rewarded by the subsequent twisting of his left ankle. After a few more moments of writhing in pain and conspicuous cursing, Vik gingerly continued. This time, he managed to make it through two more towers before retwisting his right ankle. It was going to be a long day.

With the necessity of watching our footing every step along the way sufficiently impressed upon us by this point, we continued tentatively. As we slowly advanced, we found each of the intermittent towers to be well-preserved for the most part. The footpaths and barrier walls were an altogether different story. Steps presented multiple challenges; some of them barely offered enough space for a toe-hold while others were more than a foot in height. In some stretches, agonizingly slow and careful foot placement was required so as to avoid slipping off unbalanced or crumbling landings. Winded and exhausted, we occasionally (and potentially foolishly) opted to jog down slopes steep enough to bring gravity into play.

After three hours had come and gone, we crossed the suspension bridge to Simatai. With the end in sight. Kaberi enjoyed a sudden jolt of adrenaline, and quickly scrambled up the last tower. Vik, in comparison, limped along at a snail's pace and considered the placement of the hike's last obstacle to be a cruel joke. By his way of thinking, only a sadist would locate an exit at the top of a tower instead of at the bottom. Nevertheless, we had both succeeded in completing the adventure. Sweaty and dehydrated, but simultaneously jublilant, we walked the last fifteen minutes downhill to meet our driver (who thoughtfully had two bottles of water waiting for us). During the ride back to Beijing, Kaberi napped while Vik watched helplessly as his ankles swelled up. The hot shower couldn't come fast enough. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in either of our minds that the experience of scaling such a man-made wonder was fully worth the sacrifice to limb and limb.