COLUMN: The entirely inaccessible, magical Great Wall of China

From Michael Feng's, "Snuffles," Fall '99 From Michael Feng's, "Snuffles," Fall '99Last week, I had a "When I was your age" kind of adventure, one that I will nostalgically relate over and over to my children and grandchildren, the tale growing taller with every telling. I've lost count of how many times I intoned that sentence bitterly to myself as my friend and I wandered around northern China, desperately searching for someone who had even heard of Huanghua Great Wall. Eight hours of biking, 40 miles and countless back alleys later, we finally reached our destination, four hours behind schedule. After spending a roach-filled night in the town's only hotel, we spent an exhausting three hours the next morning climbing over dangerously steep terrain to the top of the Great Wall. Then, all that remained was the trip back. The leisurely day trip to the Great Wall I originally envisioned was transformed into an arduous two-day trek, part marathon and part treasure hunt. Yet though my quadriceps would advise otherwise, I would still do it all over again, even knowing the time and effort necessary. I would do it again not for the panoramic view from the Great Wall watchtower, the setting sun behind the mountains or any of the other breathtaking sights we saw, but for mere personal satisfaction of knowing that I had completed the journey. To see for miles across the expanse of mountains was all the more sweet with the knowledge that I had conquered them with nothing but a bicycle. If I had used a sky-car to assist my ascent up the Great Wall, taken a bus or even had prior knowledge of how to get there, I would not treasure the experience nearly as much. The view from the Great Wall would mean nothing and would quickly fade from memory without the unforgettable journey there. Then again, had the journey been easier, the majestic panoramic view would have been impossible anyway. Clearer directions or a less steep climb would have allowed flocks of tourists and vendors hawking "I Climbed the Great Wall" T-shirts to ruin the tranquil beauty of the view. If I had taken a shuttle bus to the Great Wall like the other tourists, I would not have seen what I saw and it would not mean nearly as much to me. The machine known as the tourism industry defeats the true purpose of travel, to be able to experience sights unattainable in one's homeland. By ensuring that the tourist can always procure beverages and memorabilia at convenient points or take a sky-car to the top instead of walking, the tourism industry allows the tourist to receive at best a watered-down experience. This is not to say that the tourism industry and all of its equipment are necessarily bad. But the physically fit who use such indulgences have unknowingly lost something, the value of which they will never appreciate unless they leave the well-beaten path. As one who invariably took the easy way out before, I am now staunchly committed to taking the road less traveled, thanks to the best day trip I have ever been on and the only one I will remember in 50 years.