Great Wall of China

The Great Wall Virtual Challenge follows the longest man-made structure in the world.

This challenge offers two routes: 161mi/259km (recommended for running and walking) and 2183mi/3513km (recommended for cycling). I did the short route with a combination of walking and cycling.

The Great Wall of China (‘’the Wall”) is one of the most remarkable man-made structures in the world, with the longest building timeline. Beginning in the 7th century BC it continued on and off over several centuries until it peaked in the mid-17th century AD.

The Chinese were masters at building walls. First, they built them around their homes and cities as protection from their ferocious nomadic neighbours. Then, they built them to protect their borders from the wars that raged within their own nation. Most walls were of varying lengths and scattered throughout the land.

The average height of a wall in flat areas and of military importance was between 20-23ft (6-7m). In the steep mountains and in less important locations, the walls were much lower, saving money and human resources.

The Qin Dynasty squashed the various internal wars, unifying China in 221BC and established the First Empire. Shi Huangdi, the first Emperor and a ruthless ruler, used hundreds of thousands of people to connect and extend the existing walls for defence. By the end of this dynasty 3,000mi (4,800km) of wall ran along the northern border.

The Han Dynasty came next and building on the Wall ceased for a short period. Focus turned to peacetime and opening trade with the West. However, the nomads began raiding again, reprising the need for the Wall to be repaired and extended further. Safeguarding travelling traders became just as important as keeping the nomads out.

After the Han, the Wall was left neglected and crumbling. Vulnerable to attack, it was the sheer size of the Chinese army that kept most intruders at bay until Kublai Khan, a fierce Mongol warrior, forced his way into the capital and took the throne. With both sides of the Wall now Mongol territory, the Wall was no longer needed. Abandoned, much of the early construction disintegrated over time and very little now remains.

The Mongol rule was never accepted. A few decades after Kublai’s death, an uprising forced all the Mongols out and the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644AD) came into power. With the capital city in Beijing, it was much too close to the enemy border. A new wall was rebuilt from scratch. At time of completion, the Wall was 5,500mi (8,850km) long, built by millions of soldiers and forced labourers over a period of 200 years. It is this Wall that continues to exist today.

This journey of 161mi (259km) will travel through nine important towers. The trail will twist and turn through the landscape, over steep mountains, past lakes, into gorges and down steep cliffs.

I am a mile from Bangshuiyu village about to start northeast to Badaling. I’m almost wilting at the sight of the upcoming climb. I feel my quads twitching at the thought of it, knowing that this is one of many up and up climbs followed by lots of down. But, as with any new challenge, there’s always that first step and so, I step into it and launch into my journey.

Built in 1504, Badaling is one of the most well-preserved sections of the Wall. Restored in the late 1950s it was the first section to open to tourism. It remains highly popular and incredibly busy and crowded.

Stretching across mountain ridges, the width of the Wall is 19ft (5.7m), intentionally built to accommodate five horsemen galloping across side by side or ten soldiers marching shoulder to shoulder. Split into north and south, Badaling has 30 watchtowers – eight south of the main gate and 12 north of it.

The principles of building the walls remained the same from the very beginning. Layers upon layers of compacted dirt were pounded with feet until all the air pockets were removed and the dirt became rock hard. The towers made of wood and bricks had slightly sloping walls for stability. The rooftops were lookout and signalling stations. If enemies were spotted, fire was ignited in rooftop pits signalling the next tower to call for troops. Each tower then built a fire, becoming one long emergency call for assistance.

The Ming Dynasty used the same basic plan of building but improved it by making it bigger, better and more attractive. They covered the walls in bricks and stone and used sticky rice to strengthen and waterproof their usual mortar mix of slaked lime.

Coming up through the southern section of Badaling, I reached the highest point at 3,300ft (1,500m) above sea level. Grand panoramic views of a green, lush landscape were interspersed with rocky terrain. Steps were in abundance as expected but the 85-degree climb was eye-watering. The towers were beautifully preserved with their small arched windows, narrow arrow slits and crenelated battlements.

Where sections of the Wall no longer existed, boardwalks were built to connect the path to the next section. Handrails were installed on the sides of the wall and also in the centre in the much steeper sections.

Absorbing all that I could of my surroundings, I pushed on towards Juyongguan, with a long descent through the Badaling National Forest.

Descending into Guangou Valley, I arrived at Juyongguan. Translated as Juyong Pass, it is one of the Wall’s three important passes. In the 13th century, Mongol Emperor Genghis Khan breached the wall at Juyongguan not once but twice in his conquest of China.

Genghis Kahn was the founder of the Mongol Empire and a formidable military leader. During the Jin Dynasty, on one of his campaigns, Khan lured the Jin army to a field battle at Juyong Pass. Once outside the gates, Khan’s soldiers retreated knowing full well the Jin soldiers would give chase and leave the Pass unattended. The Jin were swiftly surrounded as the greater Mongol army appeared from the nearby mountains. Deceived and defeated, the Pass was breached and ransacked.

Barely two years later, Juyong Pass was once again under attack by Genghis. This time, the Jin soldiers sealed the north gate but Genghis, not to be outdone, took an alternative route. He travelled over 120mi (190km) southwest to the next less-guarded pass, crossed it and returned to Juyongguan attacking it from the south gate and recapturing it.

Juyongguan was a circular route that began with two watchtowers before I crossed over the north gate. Heading up the mountain, I climbed 2,000ft (600m) to the highest tower. The uneven steps added to the challenge. The steps ranged from a few inches to 2ft (61cm) in height. Some 1,500 steps were tackled on this wall.

The width of the wall varied from as little as 4ft (1.2m) to as wide as 55ft (17m). A total of 14 watchtowers were dotted along this 2mi (3.2km) stretch.

Being close to Beijing, it is a highly trafficked destination, putting a lot of strain on the Wall and its ongoing maintenance. Much of the Wall here was restored in the 1990s and again in the early 2000s.

Descending to the south gate, I crossed a reservoir and circled back towards the beginning and moved on towards Huanghuacheng.

As if the Wall itself wasn’t challenging enough, imagine my surprise when I arrived at Huanghuacheng to find that the Wall simply disappeared. More on that shortly.

When this section of the Wall was built, it took 188 years to complete. Towards the end of its construction time, scheming officials informed the emperor that General Cai Kai, who was in charge of the build at the time, was spending too much time and money on a sloppy job. The emperor, in his anger, ordered the general to be executed. It dawned on him later that perhaps he should have had the Wall inspected. Following a survey report, it was discovered that the Wall was actually very well built, solid, steep and fortified. Realising his mistake, the emperor ordered a monument to be erected in honour of the general.

Huanghuacheng translated means Yellow Flower City. The area was so named because yellow flowers bloom along the Wall during summer.

Two reservoirs built in modern times divided Huanghuacheng Wall. When the dams were added the reservoirs submerged parts of the wall. Submerged bricks could be seen in the clear lake.

Using an alternative path to cross to the other side, I continued over a well-preserved section of the Wall. Perhaps not as perfect as Badaling but much more natural and indicative of the Wall’s original state. The usual verdant views were enhanced by the clear reservoir below. Less than 2mi (3km) later, I reached a dead end. A side trail led me off the Wall to, and across the first dam.

Reconnecting with the trail, it was obvious that I had entered the lesser-used section and it was for the truly adventurous. The path was in a ruinous state, with large sections of the Wall’s sides destroyed. Many of the guard towers collapsed with trees growing through them. The original pavements were long gone and the trail filled with wild vegetation, leaving only a narrow single-person track to hike through.

Four miles (6.4km) later, I reached the second dam holding back Jintang Lake. The Wall here was in a reasonable state for a few miles before it began to show its age and nature was taking over again. But I felt that these wilder sections gave the Wall much more authenticity, seeing it in its raw form, yielding to time and the environment. I did, however, hear that the next section at Jiankou, was even more remote and wild.

If I thought parts of Huanghuacheng were ruinous and challenging, nothing prepared me for Jiankou. It is widely known as the most dangerous section of the Wall with extreme steepness, dense vegetation and vanishing paths. Wild and unrestored, I hiked through narrow paths among overgrown bushes and saplings, broken bricks beneath my feet and collapsed walls.

The north section of Jiankou was built on the ridges of steep cliffs. Crossing it required scrambling up crumbled walls and endless sections of rubble. It is difficult to convey the extent of decay and near vertical climbs. Tower after ruined tower was engulfed by trees, their canopies peeking through the broken rooftops that once served as battlements.

Coming from the west, I reached the junction of three sections of the Great Wall known as Beijing Knot. Here the route turned either north or south. Heading south, it wasn’t long before I faced the near vertical stairs that led to Eagle Flying Tower. The lofty peaks the tower sat upon resembled the shape of an eagle facing upward with its wings spread.

The treacherous climb up the left ‘wing’ was met with just as dangerous a climb down its right ‘wing’. At the top were the most incredible panoramic views of peak after peak way into the distance. The descending staircase, known as Heavenly Ladder, leaned at an 85-degree angle and was so narrow at the top that only one person could pass it. Each step was shallow horizontally but deep vertically. With my foot positioned sideways, I hugged the side of the wall for balance and wished I could clamber down in a sitting position like a child.

I could imagine that guarding this Great Wall would be a formidable undertaking. During the Ming Dynasty at least a million soldiers defended the Wall. They lived in the towers whilst their commanders lived in garrison towns nearby.

The towers were manned around the clock in times of unrest. They were excellent warriors, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, archery and sword fighting on horseback. Some soldiers served as scouts outside the walls and were often accompanied by guard dogs.

However, life on the Wall wasn’t always about military duty. Since they had to be self-sufficient on food supply, at least two-thirds of the soldiers spent most of their time working the fields.

Life on the Wall would have been a difficult task for most soldiers and as I climb some of these difficult sections, I empathise with their plight.

Next stop Mutianyu.

After the rugged experience at Jiankou, the Mutianyu Wall was a complete contrast. Mutinanyu was fully restored in 1986. The rebuilt sections were replicas of the original 1568 fortifications. Constructed out of slabs of granite, Mutianyu was approximately 1.8mi (3km) long. Within that short distance at almost 330ft (100m) intervals were 23 watchtowers.

Mutianyu was first built during the 6th century but as with most of the Wall pre-Ming era, it no longer exists. During the Ming era, the Wall was built a second time on the same site by General Xu Da. He was a friend of Emperor Hongwu, the founder and first ruler of the Ming Dynasty. Xu Da assisted the emperor in overthrowing the last of the Mongol-led dynasty.

Many sections of the Wall were built with crenellated battlements on the outer wall and parapets on the inner wall. The crenels were only wide enough to keep watch and shoot from but the walls - about 6.5ft (2m) tall - between them were wide enough to give cover to at least two soldiers during battle.The parapets, being on the ‘friendly’ side, were only half the height and were there mainly to keep soldiers safe from falling. On rare occasions such as Mutianyu, the battlement walls were built on both sides. Another interesting feature was the drainage holes along the entire wall were only on the inside wall. This was to prevent vegetation from growing on the enemy side which could be used for cover.

A steep descent led me down to Zhengguan Terrace. Made up of a large central tower flanked by two smaller ones, this type of build was not a common feature along the Wall. The three towers were connected by a 130ft (40m) long terrace. It was used to store grain and house troops.

At the eastern end of the Wall, was Big Corner Tower sitting at the junction of three paths. The tower was positioned in such a manner that only the corners were visible from any angle, hence its name.

Gazing at the snaking wall, I likened it to a giant serpentine dragon lying across the mountain ranges, with the sawtooth path as the dragon’s scales.

If I followed the path all the way to the ocean, I would find its head in the form of a beacon tower and its nose in the form of a battlement.

The wall extending 72ft (22m) into the sea is the old dragon having a drink of seawater.

But I digress from my journey. At the Big Corner junction, I continued east towards the battle-weary site of Gubeikou.

Just like the Jiankou section, Gubeikou was a dilapidated and unrestored part of the Wall. There were no parapets, no battlements and no paved paths. The wild vegetation was enveloping the walls into its landscape and the towers were either in ruins or completely destroyed.

The first wall was built in the 6th century, then during the Ming Dynasty another layer of bricks was added beside the first one, making this section of the Wall uniquely double-layered and the only place where the bricks and stones were from two separate dynasties.

In the 16th century, General Qi Jiguang was famously known for spending more than a decade repairing and expanding the Wall from Shanhai Pass near the ocean all the way to Badaling. He installed, in close proximity, over 1,000 watchtowers along the Wall. Those at Gubeikou were spaced at 650ft (200m) intervals and they came in handy when protecting the pass to Beijing from the northern enemies. It is said that more than 130 battles were fought here. In 1933, Gubeikou was also the site of a fierce battle between China and Japan.

Stretching for about 25mi (40km), Gubeikou was made up of two sections, Wohushan to the west and Panlongshan to the east. Gubeikou itself was a village, located in a valley between the two sections.

On my final descent from Wohushan, my path ended at the edge of a lake. Two well-preserved towers, named ‘Sister Towers’, stood here right next to each other. Some say it reminds them of two sisters holding hands when viewed from a distance.

Crossing the lake, I trekked into the village to find my entry to Panlongshan. The starting point was marked by blue arrows painted on the roadside. I headed uphill to the remnants of two more towers, of which one of them was heavily supported by steel poles. Just beyond was another tower with the entrance boarded up, closing off my access to Jinshaling Wall. Climbing off the wall, I took a path beside it and made my way into the valley.

I hadn’t expected the valley to be so densely wooded but I pressed on through the bushy countryside hiking up and down hills until I found my way back on the wall and headed for Jinshanling.

Jinshaling was a combination of preserved and wild sections. It was built in the early Ming Dynasty by General Xu Da (see postcard 6) and repaired two centuries later by General Qi Jiguang (see postcard 7). It had 31 watchtowers very close together, anywhere from 160-500ft (50-150m) apart. Depending on the terrain, the towers were built in different shapes, tall or short, square or rectangular, either one or two floors high. A rare three-storey watchtower exists in a restricted area nearby.

Hiking by a dozen towers, I arrived at Shalingkou Pass, an arched doorway beneath the wall’s path that provided access to people going in and out of the Wall. I climbed up a steep but short set of stairs that led to Black Tower. Legend says that a general’s daughter perished in a fire when she ran into a burning tower trying to extinguish the flames. The soldiers rebuilt the tower and named it ‘Black Girl Tower’ in her memory. Over time ‘Girl’ was dropped from the name.

Some sections of the path had obstacle walls with shooting holes built perpendicular to the battlement walls. These provided cover when enemies made it across the side wall.

After a few more well-preserved towers, I was back on the wild side starting with Yaogou Tower. Ruined, roofless and rundown, the tower’s remaining walls sat precariously on their foundations.

Before long, I tackled two more tricky climbs, on broken and uneven paths. When I made it to the Little Arc-roof Building, I was baffled by the high doorway and lack of stairs to get in. Climbing off the wall, I used a side trail to get around the tower and then back on proceeding to Nanzigou Tower where I finished Jinshanling Wall.

The next tower was the beginning of Simatai Wall.

I welcomed the downhill trek for the next 2.5mi (4km), although the last 300m or so were particularly steep, bearing heavily on my knees. It plateaued at the Corner Building that was also the last tower on this section of the wall.

Simatai Wall was divided by Simatai Reservoir, much like Huangchuacheng (postcard 4), except that these two sides were connected by a suspension bridge about 530ft (150m) long. Descending from the last tower in the west, I walked across the bridge and connected to the first tower on the east side.

From here there were 16 towers distributed in close proximity, of which the last four were particularly hazardous treks.

Climbing to a higher vantage point, I enjoyed stunning views of the valley and reservoir with the west Wall hanging tightly to the mountainside and the suspension bridge spanning across the lake.

Another steep climb was ahead of me. Between the fourth and fifth tower, only one side of the wall existed. A chain safety-barrier was installed on the right, coming in quite handy for the stair climb. Proceeding upwards, I stopped at the seventh tower for a bird’s eye view of west Simatai, winding itself along the mountain ridges.

The path plateaued out a bit from the constant up and down climb and I enjoyed an easy stroll until I ran out of road again just before tower 12.

Walking through brush, I scrambled up rocks until I found the path to the tower.

A terrace east of Tower 12 led to the dizzying heights of Fairy Maiden Tower (#15) and Wangjing Tower (#16), the highest point of Simatai. Reaching these two towers was nigh impossible. First of all, there was no path anymore. It was just one wall, about 20in (50cm) wide, on an 80-degree gradient with plunging cliffs on one side and steep mountain on the other. These single walls were usually built on steep mountain slopes where double-sided walls were impossible to build. Crawling on my hands and knees came to mind.

I proceeded though, balancing like a slackline acrobat, until I got to the end and realised the wall did not abut the tower. It had a gaping chasm. The only way to get in was to climb off the wall to a beaten path and circle around to the other side. Back up on the path was Sky Bridge, no more than 30ft (100m) long but a mere 16in (40cm) wide. One has to wonder, how on earth did they carry the bricks and labour up here?

The Sky Bridge was narrow and tiered. Climbing the tiers, each one led further up the mountain, until it opened up to a wide but ruined path. Not a very long path but a good place to rest before the final climb.

Wangjing Tower was the summit of Simatai Wall at an elevation of 3,200ft (980m). The climb up to it was arduous and dangerous but it offered sweeping views of valleys, mountain ranges and miles upon miles of winding Great Wall.

Next was to figure out how to get down into the valley and head for Huangyaguan, a long way from here.

I found a narrow trail near the last Simatia towers that led me down the mountainside and onto open plains. When I looked where I came from, I was astounded at the enormity of the mountain range with its jagged peaks, sheer cliff faces and narrow ridgelines. With a bit of a squint, I could make out the last tower I conquered.

South bound, I hiked the next 40mi (64km) through forests, mountains, farmlands and numerous villages until I arrived at Huangyaguan Wall, my final destination.

Built and rebuilt in the 6th and 16th centuries, due to numerous battles most of the Huangyaguan section was destroyed. In the 1980s, the Wall, along with 20 towers, a fort and a gatehouse, was fully restored, giving the current version a highly-polished look.

As I meandered along, it was quiet and peaceful. This was an opportunity to reflect over my journey and what I have learned so far.

The Great Wall in its entirety is over 13,000mi (21,000km) long but it is not one continuous fortification. It is a series of Walls spread out across China, of which less than 10% remain intact. Millions of people were used to build the Wall and hundreds of thousands, some say as many as a million, died building it.

Contrary to popular belief, the Wall cannot be seen from the moon or even from the International Space Station. On an exceptionally clear day, looking out from the ISS, a very faint line may indicate where the Wall is, provided that the viewer knows what to look for.

For me, I really enjoyed the constantly changing state of the Wall, swinging from near-perfect restorations that showed me what it might have looked like when originally built to authentic ruins that allowed me to experience the age-old bricks and stones.

I lost count of how many times I wrote ‘steep’ as it had no equal in describing how incredibly sheer the path was. Up and down, I went over and over again, climbing thousands of steps and stairs to capture the panoramic views and dragon-like appearance of the Wall.

It is estimated that nearly 4 trillion (4,000,000,000) bricks were used to build the Great Wall. This number was derived by calculating the average size of a brick and the various measurements of the Wall. Of course the precise number will never be known.

As I finish my journey now, let me leave you with this quote:

"There in the mist, enormous, majestic, silent and terrible, stood the Great Wall of China. Solitarily, with the indifference of nature herself, it crept up the mountain side and slipped down to the depth of the valley."
~ W. Somerset Maugham