32 Muscular Dystrophy Campaign volunteers gathered at Heathrow terminal 5. Resplendent in our orange charity t-shirts, we looked like EasyJet cabin crew. A large group headed to the car park for an impromptu interview for ITV and others gave interviews to newspaper reporters.

The flight left an hour late and there was some suspicion about the handful of cabin crew, but we were grateful that it flew at all. The cabin crew was about half the normal contingent, but they coped well apart from the cold food. Could this have been a portent of things to come?

A sparkling Beijing airport provided a pleasant surprise. Checking through quickly and efficiently we were soon on a two hour coach trip north-east, to the mountains. The initial motorway was called Wanga Highway and the subsequent roads were good but narrow. Though traffic here was sparse,   our intrepid driver managed a few close shaves with oncoming as well as traffic seemingly abandoned in the road.

The hotel overlooked a frozen lake. Little did we know that inside would be colder that out. A banner welcomed us to “Home Away From Home”. I called it “Hotel Frigidaire”. Radiators made a feeble effort against the cold and promised hot water never materialized. Frozen, we climbed into bed in our sleeping bags and fully clothed.

Day 3

Probably due to the length of the previous day, I slept. At 6.30 a phone alarm called us for a breakfast of eggs, bacon (though not for me), vaguely warmed bread and cold Chinese food. We took the coach to Gubuikou and began trekking along a section of the wall which was in a poor state of repair.  Difficult patches meant the train kept stopping and starting as people struggled. After about an hour the slowest, a sprightly 69-year-old, was moved to the front and progress became slow but smoother.

The ground was incredibly dry and we were told it’d been the driest winter for 40 years. We saw very few people and a few birds: magpies and xique (pronounced something like schetwea) – bird of good luck. It’s the only one they don’t eat so it’s clearly a very lucky bird!

We came to a turret with a blue cross, like graffiti, and were told it meant no entry because the army base was beyond. We followed a rough treacherous track to a small tumbledown hut by a lake and ate lunch of cold fried egg sandwich and banana.

After we trekked through a village and then off-piste again until we reached the campsite. Like everything here, the tents were arranged in perfect lines. We had trekked for 6 hours covering only 14 km, but learned three important Chinese words: neehow (hello), shearshear (thank you), and the most important of all: pinya (beer).

Day 4

Freezing! I hardly slept due to shivering, though it was more due to my inadequate sleeping bag than the -6 degrees. Many had ice inside their tents and one person collapsed after getting up, she was so cold.

When the sun came out it was a spectacular day: a crisp wind now and then, but generally beautiful with a cornflower blue cloudless sky. We trekked across country to Jinshenling, the famous section of the Great Wall, stretching into the distance across mountains in both directions. The initial sections were manicured, recently restored, but they soon deteriorated once more and with steep inclines and declines. Some people struggled, particularly where stones were loose or the path on the wall just ended in a steep drop to the sides. But everyone did it and there was a great sense of relief and achievement. We couldn’t believe how far we had travelled along the wall in the day. Looking back, seeing the turrets like a loose string of blocks on a string the feeling was one of awe and incredulity.

The trek to the campsite was along a treacherous path around a mountain with sections that challenged members of the group again, drawing tears from one. At the end the campsite beckoned menacingly however we found showers here although they were little more than a trickle insufficient for a hair wash most people craved. We had travelled 20 km in about 7 hours along some stunning sections on a perfect day. In the evening we gathered in a cow shed for spit roast – the most anorexic sheep I’ve ever seen. The vegetarian alternative was mostly cold.

Day 5

A much warmer night punctuated by a lone dog in the nearby village. Splitting into two groups we trekked across fields, avoiding the treacherous mountain traversed the afternoon before and joined the wall a short distance from where we had left it. The day started still but sunless and we soon stripped off into cooler clothes. A short distance along the wall we broke off to cross a river using a suspension bridge – another challenge for some – where the wall ended on one side and began again on the other. When we climbed the bank to the first tower there were cries of horror as the party realised the daunting sight ahead – tower after tower each higher and with a steeper path than the one before. In places people were on hands and knees. As we ascended the wind picked up and where the side walls were non-existent, there was a real fear of being blown off. Eventually we reached ‘Tower 12′ which as far as we could go. Ahead the path climbed almost vertically but was too dangerous and the sign warned of a fine. Here we ate lunch 723m above sea level with the wall zigzagging through the distant mountains.

After lunch we descended carefully to the first tower before cutting across the countryside on the opposite side of the wall. We walked through well tilled ground and evidence of corn and wheat fields. As we approached the town of Gang Fang, many the fields were tiered with stone walls and occasional mounds. We were told by the interpreter that these were family graves, the land identified as holy by specially trained people.

The camp was in the school playground which we expected to be earth, but was paved with bricks and the tents cozily packed together. A small brazier was the only heat but three hardy souls stayed up until 2am swapping stories.

Day 6

A chorus of crowing cockerels announced the end of another sub-zero night. I went for a walk out of the village and watched the sun rise over the mountains, wondering again at the sense and engineering feat of building the wall on such impassable cliffs. I returned along the frozen river, in places bubbling as water tried to insist spring had arrived. I was taken by the contrast, the beauty of the river lined with silver birch and singing finches. The community clearly cares for the land, utilising everything in a sustainable way: digging roots back into the soil with chicken droppings, bundling brushwood for fires and the dead corn stalks for fires and fodder and yet as I approached the village, there were plastic bags by the river and opposite the school a site where rubbish had just been dumped over a wall. The logic appears to be that the river will wash it away – the next village’s problem.

After my breakfast of egg and peanuts, we watched the children’s flag raising ceremony followed by patriotic songs. One of us then spoke on our behalf and presented the stationery we’d brought. After “thank yous” we headed through the fields towards the Wall. It was a long slow climb culminating in a short steep track to the top. We were surprised to find an archway to the other side and we joked that Ming must have had a coffee shop here and invited the Mongols in. I later discover that this was indeed one of the points the Mongols had breached the wall. Here we took a contemplative break and I climbed the Wall and walked to the next tower. Here it was decrepit in both directions and difficult to follow. Interestingly it seemed to end in a steep escarpment at both ends, dispelling my understanding that it was continuous even over the craggy mountain tops.

Our descent was more rock climbing than trekking in places. When we looked back people were astounded at what we had come down. The rest of the afternoon’s hike was along roads and tracks, through villages with little barking dogs, but friendly inhabitants.

The day had started with a glorious sunrise and clear skies, but by midday was totally overcast and a wicked wind bit into our exposed flesh. After 6 and a half hours we reached the hotel by the frozen lake. Huddled for warmth waiting for dinner we noticed that many of us were either sun or wind burnt. However there was good news: the water was hot and everyone disappeared for our first hot shower in 3 days.

Day 7

Another sunny morning, glinting off the frozen lake opposite “Hotel Fridgidaire”. Living up to it’s assigned name, there was no heat or hot water in the morning. By now we were hardened trekkers and undaunted and uncomplaining we said “goodbye” and headed over a dam and into a valley. The air was perfectly still and though, a white sunless sky, we soon warmed up.

The 3 and a half hour trek took us past a Ming dynasty fort that was still in use and a steady climb to a forest. Here we were stopped by two soldiers and had to wait until we had clearance to continue. The time was filled by some of the group re-enacting the Thriller video and the 69-year-old, taking a line dancing class. I couldn’t help but wonder what impression of Westerners we’d left with those bemused soldiers.

As we climbed a path that followed a frozen stream we could see more towers on the hills in the distance. After cresting a ridge and following the path through villages we finally passed between those towers and another section of crumbling wall. However I was informed that this wall was not connected to the Great Wall and had been built much later. Someone joked that this one was to keep the Chinese in.

We joined a road and saw the crew had set up a finish line replete with Muscular Dystrophy balloons. As one big group we crossed the line, hugged and celebrated with champagne and fire crackers. For each of us the trek had been a challenge, whether physical or mental. The knowledge that we have raised a significant sum between us, to help those kids affected by such a terrible disease, made it all worthwhile.

Now off to Beijing and a warm hotel for rest, recuperation… and shopping.

Murray Bailey

March 20 – 28 2010