I was hiking solo on the Great Wall of China on a wintry December morning in 2023. I decided to take the less trodden route from the North Tower gate and make my way towards the Panlongshan wall in the Gubeikou village in Miyun district. The hike started off with the entry gate being locked. After waiting for 45 mins for someone to open the gate and asking multiple locals for some information and getting no answers, I decided to jump over the wall and get to the trail that way. I was determined to hike this section of the Great Wall. I finally found the trail and started hiking up. Within a short while, I was on the Great Wall of China, alone and completely in awe of the view in front of my eyes.
For the first 3 hours or so, I haven’t seen another soul on the hike. It was wonderfully lonely and I enjoyed every second of my time on one of the marvelous wonders of the world. During the 4th hour of my hike, as I started getting closer to the Panlongshan wall, I started running into a few other hikers, mostly all from Beijing city. We exchanged polite smiles and nî hâos, one of the only two mandarin words I spoke. I kept on my walk searching for a quiet, secluded outlook point to take in the view. I found a dilapidated old tower that I could climb to the top of and stood there admiring the magnificent views of the Great Wall. My eyes started welling up with tears of joy.
I quickly noticed that I had company at my view point. Sitting quietly at the edge of the brick tower, on a square stone, was an old man wearing a green bomber jacket. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was carrying a shovel that he used as a walking stick. He looked like he lived in this area. He didn’t carry a backpack or water, just him and his shovel. I stood there absorbing the view, when our eyes met. I gave him a nod and a polite smile. He returned it with the heartiest smile showing me a mouthful of yellow teeth. He had deep eyes and wrinkles on his forehead showing his wisdom more than his age. It was a chilly day and all he had was a light bomber jacket. He was used to this weather and his body has been exposed to more than this mere cold wind. He had handsomely striking features. I could easily bet that he was a catch during his youth.
I wished I could speak his language, I bet he would have so many stories to share. I imagine he would’ve told me what he did in this village or where he walked on this earth. He would’ve told me how he fell in love with a beautiful young girl in his 20s and how she was waited for him at home everyday even after 40 years of sharing love and life together. Instead we sat quietly next to each other, gazing at the marvel of the world, holding our words back and our thoughts run free. In that moment, we shared more than words could carry. We shared time, the incredible view that signified years of hard work of thousands of people, and we shared the air we breathed.
To the quiet man in the green bomber jacket and a shovel in your hand, thank you for sharing your air with me.
