A tiny mountain village. A patch of asphalt only occasionally appears on the narrow streets. The rest is covered in gravel and sand.

A lush greenery of the bare corn plants stretches in front of the old but charming stone houses. The fruits, arranged in neat stacks, dry off in the sun just next to the field. In front of the corn garden – a small wall made of piled up stones and pebbles. In the background – a massive and majestic mountain range. The fog of clouds wanders between their black peaks.

The village is the starting point. With sleeping bags and mats swaying from the backpacks, our group moves on to the Great Wall of China. Everything starts very inconspicuously. Quick march between the endless green fields and plots. Conversations and comments on how easy it is to move on this flat and easy track. Shortly, the fields turn into woods, a smooth road into a narrow, rocky and steep path. Instead of conversions and comments – quickened breathing.

Several meters further, trees part to reveal an awaited sight. It does not, however, resemble the Great Wall of China from the postcards or tourist magazines. Instead of perfectly cubic-shaped teeth of fortifications – an avalanche of rubble stones. Instead of the wide, smooth sidewalks friendly to flip-flops and high heels – an uneven surface, frightening with the image of falls and bruised knees. The unrestored part of the Wall – Jiankou – retains its originality and severity of hundreds of tough years it survived.

The proximity of one of the architectural wonders of the world fills our group with a fever of excitement. Suddenly …

“We can’t go up”, someone closer to the Wall shouts towards us.

“What? How come?”

“They don’t want to lower the ladder.”

Who? What ladder? Our eyes follow the hand pointing to the top of the wall. At its highest point, just above a path trodden by multiple trips, sits an elder lady. A hat with a broad brim shields her face from the increasingly warming sun, while she sips tea from a small thermos. Below, agitated guide heatedly discusses with the grey-haired grandpa. There pass long minutes filled with gesticulations and hurriedly thrown words. Finally, the guide reaches into his pocket for a wad of banknotes. At the same time, the makeshift wooden ladder slides towards our group. The elder couple wishes us a joyful and a safe trip.

From the first steps on the Wall, it becomes evident that the expedition will not be the easiest one. Tottering cubes of stones slide from under the feet. Remnants of steep stairs lead up and down. Soon, stairs turn into drifting down patches of loose rocks or almost inaccessible walls, shooting into the sky. Each section of the path leads to a thorough analysis of all the protruding stones and holes, searching for those which can be used as a hand and foot support. And then the path disappears altogether. There is only a remnant of the fortification wall and glued to it a narrow strip of beaten earth. That’s on the right side. On the left, there is a stones rumble, disappearing between the crowns of trees. Clinging to the remains of the wall on the right side, we are moving step by step, trying to ignore the gaping chasm of a non-existent left side.

A few hours later we reach our night stop-over. One of the reasonably well-preserved guard towers will be a shelter for tonight. For the first time since we started, we stand on solid ground. Even so, legs tremble from the continuous efforts and also from something that is far from physical sensations. For the first time, we can stop and soak up the phenomenon of surroundings. The magical view of an endless thread of the Wall, appearing and vanishing among the treetops. Vastness of green forests, black sharp mountain peaks and blue summer sky merging with the line of the horizon. The view, priceless because of its beauty, thanks to the phenomenally tough journey pleases double.

A little over an hour is left until nightfall. Some of us scurry through the small corridors and nooks of the tower in search of a sheltered place to sleep. The rest is preparing bonfire. Tower walls and roof of the sky form an atmospheric patio. Soon, in its centre the fire cracks, chasing away evening chill. Suddenly, the falling darkness of the night echoes with shouts of joy and cheer. Porters from the village down in the valley brought hot dinner and cold packs of beer. Above us, fireworks brighten the night sky. The remains of one of the holidays make our night even more magical.