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I was glad to no longer be the center of attention,
and wisely chose not to counter his tale with my own inglorious
story of intoxication of 1974 in Massawa, Ethiopia. Was it really
thirty years ago? I've been on the wagon that long?? Am I
that old??? Then I recognized that I was old, the elder
in this group, the old fart whom I had always disparaged when I was
younger, like Robbie. I had become the fossil I never imagined
becoming. Sheeesh!
Regardless, I now saw Robbie from a different
perspective. Only a few years older than my 13-year-old Katarena
and 15-year-old Enrique, he was a swarthy, good-looking guy, sharp
and knowledgeable, who helped extricate me from an unpleasant
situation. I knew that if I was ever in that position, I'd hire him
in a heartbeat for his legal and social skills. I had tonnes
of admiration for him, and hoped it was mutual, though he may be
like me when I was his age....!
We arrived at our drop off point in the hinterlands,
on a poor dirt track, next to a small home patched together of
local material. It was not unlike homes that I'd seen growing up
when visiting the Ozarks in Missouri. Chickens and other farm
animals were free-ranging around and a loo that was perhaps a step
below a hillbilly outhouse (Katarena was repulsed by the small,
smelly hole in the ground behind the coop), and we set off through
the lush surroundings, climbing a steep path to the magnificent
Great Wall.
We had come to a more remote part of the Jinshanling
section, scaling up toward the Wall, silently waiting for us attempt
to breach it. The path was as strenuous a climb as I'd been on yet,
and there were no resting benches along the way like when we visited
the Castle of Gruenenburg ruins in Melchnau, Switzerland, a few
weeks ago. I had to frequently stop and bend over with my hands on
my knees to catch my breath. Eventually, I was sidling alongside
this structure, inappropriately name “The Great Wall”. It was far
more than great, it was massive, and as I stood at the base, I was
barely able to see Enrique leaning out over the edge of the
crenelated parapets.
“Why are you so slow? We've been up here ages waiting
for you! Everybody is waiting for you again, just like this
morning. C'mon!” my teenaged son yelled down to me.
I found the crevice in the Wall that they had used to
first ascend into a watchtower, then out to the top.
“I would have gotten here faster,” I apologized to
the group, “but I am a bit older than all of you...”
“That's OK, old-timer” said Robbie in conciliatory
language, “we're still a group, even though you could have
joined the other couple who stayed in the van and rode to the
pick-up point. Well, let's go. At least we have a decent cloud
cover.”
“Thanks, Robbie. I will be slow, so don't hold up
anymore for me.” and that was pretty much the closest I ever came to
the group until we reached Simatai several hours later. Only
Katarena stayed with me, sometimes holding my arm as she steadied
me—sometimes I steadier her—on the eroding stones.
It was beyond belief. This section had not been
renovated, but was left to weather as anything left in nature will.
Parts of the Wall had long since fallen away, the result of
freeze-thaw cycles over the millennia of its' construction, with
vegetation that had grown up in the cracks and crevices where seeds
had blown in and germinated. I'm certainly not that old, and high
clouds above, blown in by the jet stream, released a few drops of
water on me. I felt a rebirth of spirit as if a seed inside
responded to the moisture that had dropped down from those clouds. I
also felt an urging to not be so far behind.
A few people other than our group were out on this
stunning histocultural addition to the crust of Chinese humanity. I
saw an ancient man, bent and stooped over from time, trudging like
me, and similarly steadied by his great-grand-daughter as I was by
Katarena. The exception was that he had the most brilliant glow to
his face, that of accomplishing a final act, the commitment of “even
if it's the last thing I do in life...!” Standing to the side while
they passed us, my eyes met his for the briefest of moments, and I
knew that I was going to make it to Simatai, where he had surely
started.
In that split-second that our pupils met, the faith
and confidence of not only getting to our immediate goal was
transmitted, but a certitude that the best was still ahead, waiting
for us alone. I felt the Chinese saying, “You are not a GREAT man if
you have never been to The Great Wall!” welling up through me,
almost as if it was a catchy merchandising slogan for the Great Wall
Adventure Club. Which it should be, if access could be made more
inclusive for the better half of the world.
My inspiring notion didn't last too much longer. This
was a bloody difficult climb! It seemed that the only places where
the Wall had any horizontal plane to it were in the watchtowers, of
which there were many, thankfully. By the time Katarena and I caught
up to our Great Wall Adventure Club group, they had eaten their
lunches and were just about to depart..
“We tried to wait for you before eating, but you took
too long to get here. We saved a few deserts, if you want them,
after you finish your lunches. Also, I have some more water, if you
need it.” said Enrique. With eagerness, he continued “Anyway, you
two look fine, and I'm getting a lot of fantastic pictures. Is it OK
if I stay with the main group? Blow your whistle if you need me. Due
to the snake-like nature of this Wall, I'm actually never very far
away, as the crow flies, and can see you most of the time. This
really is a good trip you brought us on.”
“Thanks, Enrique. We are getting along quite well,
and have plenty of water.” I told him. Giving him the permission he
had already taken, I spoke, “I do want you to stay ahead and get
decent photos.” He quickly stepped off with the others, relatively
unaffected by this challenging trail.
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