There are 9 million bicycles in Beijing

I met my fellow trekkers on 12 October at Heathrow Airport. We were all strangers apart from a father and daughter and a couple of friends. Some admitted to being nervous and wondering what we had let ourselves in for. It was hard to believe that in only a few days we would be discussing our bowels and blisters with ease.

The age Concern representative Steve and, more importantly, our doctor Toby arrived. We were handed our air tickets and briefing instructions, including who our room mate would be for the next 9 nights. I was sharing with Ann, a widow from Leeds. I found to my cost that I drew the short straw as Ann could snore for England! My sleepless nights were spent trying to muffle the sounds of motorbikes and pigs.

We flew by Aeroflot to Moscow and then on to Beijing. I am sure the cabin crew were all ex Russian guards. They spoke very little and smiled even less. I felt ridiculous trying to sum up courage to ask for a drink of water, but they were very intimidating.

On arrival in Beijing we were taken on a tour of Tian’anmen Square and the Forbidden City. The former is the symbolic heart of China and was still resplendent in floral displays to celebrate (a couple of days earlier) the Chung Yeung Festival which is a day to respect and remember ancestors. These floral displays included the logo and motto ‘One World One Dream’ for the Olympic Games in 2008.

The Forbidden City is the former home of the emperors in Imperial China for 500 years, this really is a city of 800 buildings. Rectangular in shape, it is the world's largest palace complex and covers 74 hectares. The painting of Chairman Mao at the North gate is replaced every 1 October so it was in pristine condition for our visit. At the north of the city the Emperor's Garden is still an oasis of peace and tranquility, even with all the tourists. A sobering thought that the strange rocky mountain in the garden was to remind the Emperor of the real countryside outside.

As we had been traveling for many hours, our Chinese guide Jordan’s attempt at an English commentary was difficult to follow and I think the coach to the hotel was for some a more welcome site.

All our meals in China were provided apart from our first dinner in Beijing. Adventuring out to find food proved to be part of the Challenge, as we had to cross a six lane highway with 5 junctions outside our hotel to reach the restaurants.

We found a restaurant displaying a picture with the words ‘Mongolian Lamb Hotpot’, which we thought looked promising. Unfortunately, non of the staff spoke a word of English and the menu was just a series of pictures of dishes. We provided entertainment to the other diners for ages while we all made animal noises and the waitress put her fingers to her head for horns, or flapped her arms to try and depict what animal formed the basis of each dish. When she drew a small round face with pointed ears and whiskers and said ‘miaouw’ we all shouted an emphatic ‘No!’.

The centre of the tables housed a large cooking pot containing boiling water and a few floating vegetables. Plates of wafer thin sliced raw meat, pak choi and clumps of noodles were tipped into the pot. After a few minutes we all dived in with our chop sticks frantically trying to fish out something to eat. Disappointingly, the ‘noodles’ turned out to be tripe. None of us ate a great deal but we certainly cried with laughter throughout the evening. The staff hugged and kissed us when we left and our hearts warmed to the people of Beijing.

All our days began at 6am. This was very important on this first morning as we had a 3 hour journey to the mountains through Beijing rush hour traffic. The traffic in Beijing is horrendous. The population is over 16 million and there are too many cars, buses and lorries jostling for space. There is a dedicated cycle lane through much of the city, but when it comes to junctions, cyclists and pedestrians can be seen dicing with death by darting through the moving vehicles.

The first day of trekking was an ‘easy’ introduction as it was along the restored wall at Taipingzhai where it snakes along the ridgeline of the Yanshan Mountains towards Huangyaguan.

Our accommodation this night was in a disused soldiers barracks. The rooms were clean, there was an ‘ensuite shower’ and wc but no hot water. The briefing notes given to us at the airport had said, “Don’t assume that the presence of plumbing will automatically mean there is water in the pipes! Likewise, just because there’s a hot tap, don’t count on having hot water. Expect nothing and you will then be, surprised, not downhearted, when there is something” (we are after all in the land of Confucious!).

Some of the accommodation along the way tried to provide a Westernised breakfast – which was a shame I thought. It did provide a good laugh though watching people try to eat a fried egg with chopsticks. The clever ones manouvered it between two slices of bread and enjoyed an egg butty.

The morning temperature in the mountains was usually around zero degrees with a light mist. We had to stamp our feet and flap our arms to keep warm whilst waiting for the trek to begin. Usually within half an hour the sun was beaming down on us and we soon discarded our fleeces, hats and gloves. This walk headed up steep renovated steps towards what appeared to be a sheer cliff face. This is where we encountered ‘Heavens Ladder’, a steep climb of over 200 steps leading us up the cliff face. What a relief it was and what a magnificent view when you reached the top!

When we came to our lunch stop we were amazed to see that one of the local traders had arrived before us. She was selling cold cans of coke, bottled water, tshirts, guide books and post cards all of which she had carried on her back in an insulated wooden box with a metal frame. Apart from selling she also sang to us religious songs in a very pleasant voice. She hauled her wares onto her back and was waiting for us again at the end of the walk. Many of us felt guilty and wished we had lightened her load by buying more goods from her in the mountains. Nobody complained about the weight of their rucksack after this.

A local farmer provided our accommodation for the night. This was the most basic as regards facilities but the food was wonderful, especially the large, steaming pot of whole porridge oats at breakfast.

The houses in this part of China resemble old style school buildings with lots of glass and little insulation. A poor choice it seems in a area that is hot in the summer and has cold winters.

After a gruelling day we were more than willing to pay the farmer 10 yuan (75p) for the use of the hot shower. This was the same price as a large bottle of beer but I know what I preferred at that moment. It took 2½ hours for 21 of us to shower in time for dinner. The meal was really delicious, especially a belly pork and potato hot pot cooked by our coach driver Mr Tang.

That evening we sat under the sparkling stars, toasting marshmallows around a roaring log fire. Our faces were burning and our backs freezing as we retold calamities of the day. That night as I slept in all my outdoor clothes in our chilly hut for two, I regretted not choosing the concrete bed, sleeping five, with the fire underneath.

The two squat toilets were situated 50 yards from the accommodation, (we now knew the reason for a torch on our kit list) adjoining the chicken coop and opposite the pig sty. The latter was home to the fattest pig I had ever seen, plus her 5 piglets. (I wondered when these would be on the dinner table). The flush system for the toilets was fed from a tin bath on the roof which was filled manually from the nearby well. This did not happen with regularity so you only went when you were desperate.

We developed a grading system for toilets along the trek. These ranged from -10 to +5. The first users would pass the grading on to those in line and they would decide whether they could wait until later. The highest score went to the toilets along the Great Wall (ie squatting behind a bush). You had to use a lighter to burn any paper in these instances. Adam returned once and announced in a loud voice that he had extinguished Gill’s flames!

The next few days were spent walking from this mountain village to our destination at Juyongguan. We made our way out of the village along a valley of fertile terraces, planted with a rich variety of walnut, apple and persimmon trees. The fields were stark with the remains of the harvested corn crop. This was drying in profusion outside the houses and along the roads, waiting to be made into corn meal and local wine. The same fields will be flooded later in the season for growing rice.

It was during these few days that we climbed what remains of the original Great Wall – precarious piles of rocks with steep, crumbling slopes. There was help though from the local farmers. A lot of them lost their farms when the car parks and visitor centres were built for the Great Wall. They make a living by walking along with groups, carrying rucksacks and trying to sell you souvenirs. My helper was a very homely lady called Zhou which she pronounced Doh. I felt like Homer Simpson at the end of the day after continually saying Doh! It was well worth the going rate of 100 yuan to be free of my heavy rucksack.

We didn’t always have a difficult climb down the mountains. On this day our arrival into Simatei was by zip wire across a beautiful lake. A very exhilarating experience with fantastic views. The following day you could choose between a six person toboggan or cable car for the downward stretch.

Notices along the way would remind us about safety, but there was often difficulty with the translation as this one demonstrates..

The exhausting effort of climbing was always forgotten when you reached another summit and were rewarded with yet another breathtaking view. The mountains were a rich palette of autumn colours intensified by the glorious sunshine. We looked back along the mountains at the white ‘dragon scales’ of The Wall towards the end of the day and felt incredulous that we had trekked so far. You can just see the back of the trader in this picture struggling up the wall with her heavy load.

All too soon the trek is over and we load up the coach for the return journey to Beijing. Our senses were unprepared for its frenetic energy after the peaceful calm of the past few days. The huge city is covered in a dense, filthy smog and many of the 9 million cyclists (according to the song by Katie Melua) and pedestrians are wearing face masks. Although it is a filthy habit, you can see the need for the people to hoick up the contents of their lungs at every opportunity and spit them on the ground.

Despite this attack on our senses, it was fabulous to soak in a hot bath once again and change out of our dirty clothes and walking boots. Our last dinner in Beijing was a wonderful banquet including Peking (or should that be Beijing) duck, which was superb. The evening also included the award of our certificates and medals along with Buddhas as special awards for the best blisters, best practical joker and best entertainer.

We parted with hugs and tears at Heathrow and although we wanted to see our families again, we were reluctant to leave this wonderful group of trekkers with whom we had formed a unique bond. I am looking forward to our calendar (published next week) so that the year ahead will provide constant memories of a wonderful experience.