【英语生活】老外游长城

Beijingers talk about air pollution in the same defeated way that Romans discuss the traffic and Londoners the rain. It is choking, eye-stinging and gritty throughout the year, regardless of season.

I'm in the Chinese capital to escape the smog on a trip to the Great Wall of China, organised by Beijing Hikers, which has been arranging guided walks since 2001. My tour is fully subscribed with foreigners: some serious hikers, some Great Wall enthusiasts, but most just look like they need to get out of town for a breath of fresh air. Some talk about their time in Beijing as if it's a sentence – two months here, three months there, one old lag has lasted two years. The tour bus, meanwhile, glides through Beijing's hinterland: a heartbreaking vista of grey high-rise suburbs, bleak karaoke barns and various architectural follies that look like the victims of insurance fires.

China is beginning to open up to alternative tourism, a reaction to the country's booming domestic tourist industry which mostly resembles America's in the 1950s. There's no animal reserve without a menagerie of fibreglass tigers out front, no limestone Butterfly Cave without a 30ft concrete butterfly welded to the entrance. In a country where practically no historical monument has survived unrenovated, remote sections of the Great Wall represent a living, decaying link with China's past.

Beijing Hikers says that, apart from Hong Kongers, Chinese demand for its trips to remote sections of the wall is still small. Local tourists prefer either the convenience of the renovated section at Badaling, near Beijing, gimmicks such as the toboggan chute at Mutianyu or, more sensibly in the dead of winter, to stay indoors. For many, the Great Wall is a brand rather than a historical monument – the scene of rave parties, Fendi fashion shows, and even spa retreats for Communist party fat cats.

As our journey continues north, the smog dissipates, the light and the air become crisper, the complementary breakfast banana has been consumed and the mood lifts. I ask another hiker, a Microsoft worker from Seattle who looks like she takes the outdoors seriously, about her trousers.

“Oh these are great,” she says, displaying a zip that runs down the outside seam. “You can take them off quickly, which makes them great for glaciers.” Just why you would want to take your trousers off on a glacier wasn't fully explained but what does become clear is that our group of 15 hikers is divided into two camps: those with the “gear” – thermals, windproof jackets and glacier-defying trousers – and the rest of us who look like we're on the Retreat from Moscow.

Outside it's minus 2°C. Not serious cold but, since I've just come straight from the relative balminess of Hong Kong, it's a face-freezing experience. Even the trees by the road are protected from the cold by sheaths of green canvas, surely a bad sign.

Our guide, Hayden Opie, a rangy and easy-going New Zealander who works in Beijing as a web designer, takes us through the day's itinerary. We are to attempt the High Tower, having our lunch atop a Ming dynasty watchtower on a remote section of the Great Wall in Yanqing County, about two hours outside Beijing. The entire walk is 14km and will take us along the 400-year-old ribbon of wall that once made up the defences north-west of Beijing.

First built in 221BC during the Qin Dynasty to protect the northernmost border of the newly unified state from barbarian incursion, the wall ebbed and flowed under successive dynasties. Rather than one contiguous fortification, it is a series of sections stretching more than 5,500 miles and until the Qing dynasty in the 19th century it stood as the ne plus ultra of the Chinese empire. If you take into account the stretches of wall that are undergoing a cheap refit to accommodate the swelling number of tourists, in many respects it's still a work in progress.

Contrary to popular belief, it can't be seen unassisted from space and many of its older sections, made from rammed earth, can't be seen at all. Staggeringly, however, new sections are being discovered: a government mapping study last year revealed that a 180-mile section of Ming wall had been buried under sand in Gansu province in western China, near Inner Mongolia.

The minibus draws up in a village called Chang Yu Cheng, or Long Valley Town, which owes its existence to the wall, once firing bricks in its kilns between the 14th and 17th centuries to build the watchtowers, battlements and arrow loops that make up the hundreds of kilometres of Great Wall in this section alone. Centuries later, it's providing a second living as a tourist destination, the village having recently finished a hiking path to the wall that attracts overnighters and daytrippers.

Setting off on the walk, the hiking gear crowd take an immediate lead, many of them not to be seen again until the end of the walk. The Retreat from Moscow crew, meanwhile, form various clumps of stragglers. Hayden brings up the rear making sure the final hiker isn't left hopelessly behind – in this case it's between me and a Malaysian financial planner. I'm unfit but even Beijing Hikers' toughest walks are within the range of most able-bodied couch potatoes. It's a steep climb to the spine of the range but the hills behind us begin to form into the sharp ridges immediately synonymous with the Great Wall.

The hike has now notched up from power dawdle to mildly arduous and my gear starts to overheat, drenching me in sweat. In between short breaths, I reflect on the stamina of the army of conscripted labour and the Ming dynasty sentries who must have struggled up the same path.

While the trail looks isolated and bleak now, according to one of our guides Zach Chen, the Great Wall would have been something akin to a US military base in its day, a kind of medieval Okinawa. Its northern side is the business end from which Han raids would have been launched into barbarian territory; its southern side a community of kilns, blacksmiths and farms, all vying for lucrative defence contracts.

“Far from being remote, it was the centre for a lot of activity. There would have been farms right up against the wall – there were even brothels,” he says.

As we crest the ridge, the view is astonishing. The wall weaves like a Chinese dragon, seemingly looping back on itself, disappearing down gorges and re-emerging on the peaks. Only a biting northern wind blowing in from Inner Mongolia indicates which side was designed to repel the barbarian and which enclosed the Ming nation.

That the wall is in any sort of condition to be walked after the past 22 centuries, and especially the predations of the Cultural Revolution when it was vilified as a symbol of feudal oppression, is a tribute to its builders. Some parts still appear new, with the white mortar showing through, and its finished edging highlighting the ridges along the battlements. In its day, this section would have accommodated two horsemen; today it looks hard-pressed to pass any kind of health and safety audit and our guides cut short the walk. Beijing Hikers tries to keep damage to these remote sections to a minimum but even the most careful groups still have an effect.

Back at the pick-up point, the guides lay on a spread of tea, biscuits and beer but no one can face a cold drink. One of the leaders of the Retreat from Moscow team is warming his bare hands on a steaming paper cup of tea. I ask him if he'd done the whole walk without gloves.

“Oh yes, but I'm from Sheffield, we're tough up there,” he says. I didn't want to admit that I'd done the hike in a pair of silk tights under my jeans – a desperate measure foisted on me by my partner at the last minute – but ultimately I was grateful for them as we shuffled, steaming, back on to the bus. The cold just can't afford to be squeamish.

Peter Shadbolt is a news editor in the FT's Hong Kong office

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Details

www.beijinghikers.com, +86 (010) 6432 2786

Costs for upcoming hikes range from Rmb250 (￡24) per person for a day hike to Rmb1,480 (￡141) per person for an overnight hike

北京人说起空气污染，就像罗马人提及交通堵塞、伦敦人谈起下雨一样，都是别无二致的深恶痛绝。无论什么季节，北京的天气总让人感到窒息，睁不开眼，而且沙尘肆意。

现在的我就在中国首都。为了躲避尘雾，我参加了由Beijing Hikers组织的一次中国长城行。这个网站自2001年就一直组织背包旅游活动。此次同行的都是老外：有些是经验老到的背包族，有些是长城景色的痴迷者，但绝大多数看起来都像只是为了远离城市，呼吸一下新鲜空气。谈起在北京的日子，一些人感觉就像是在坐牢——两个月在这，三个月在那，不知不觉就成为蹲了两年牢的惯犯。旅游大巴带我们驶进了北京的郊区——入眼之处尽是一片令人压抑的景象：灰暗的高楼，破败的卡拉OK歌舞厅，以及各式各样的杂乱建筑，犹如刚刚遭受过火灾。

中国正在发展多种多样的旅游形式，这是其国内旅游业蓬勃发展的体现，其旅游业发展和美国在上世纪50年代的情形非常相似。这里没有哪个动物保护区里没有关在玻璃屋里的瘦骨嶙峋的老虎的；石灰岩质地的蝴蝶巢穴里，蝴蝶都拥挤在30英尺长的混凝土围墙的进口处。在这个国家，已经没有历史建筑物被原封不动的保存下来。只有偏远之处的长城才有一丝中国古老的鲜活印迹。

Beijing Hikers说，除了香港人，中国内地人很少要求去游览偏远之处的长城。当地旅游者要么选择去北京市郊的八达岭——那儿已经过修缮，容易攀爬；要么选择去慕田峪长城，体验一下滑雪的乐趣；要么选择在寒冷的冬天呆在室内。对大多数人来说，长城是一个品牌而非一座沉淀了历史的名胜古迹。这里有狂欢的派对，有芬迪(Fendi)的时装秀，甚至还有给共产党高官预备的温泉疗养度假村。

随着我们的旅程向北进发，浓雾逐渐消失，阳光和空气都清新起来。吃了准备补充体力的香蕉作为早饭之后，我的心情也好了起来。我和身旁另一个驴友聊起了她的裤子。她来自于西雅图的微软(Microsoft)，似乎对这次旅行非常重视。

“这些拉链非常棒,”她边说边向我展示装饰在裤子上的拉链。“你可以很快的把它拉开，非常适合冰雪天时节。”为何要在冰雪天把外裤脱掉我不得而知。但非常明显的是，我们这15个背包族被分成了两个阵营：一个是装备齐全，穿着保暖、防风夹克和御寒裤子的；而剩下的我们却像是刚从莫斯科撤退的残兵。

车外零下2度，应该不算非常冷，但由于我刚从相对暖和的香港飞过来，因此还是觉得有些冻僵的感觉。路边的树木为了御寒都包裹上了绿色的帆布，显然这让我感觉更冷。

我们的导游奥普·海德(Hayden Opie)是一个高高瘦瘦、性格随和的新西兰人，在北京从事网站设计工作。他将带领我们完成这一天的行程。我们今天翻越的这段野长城座落在延庆镇，距离北京约两小时车程。我们将在明代的一个瞭望塔上吃午饭。整个旅程将步行14公里。我们将漫步于这条拥有400年历史，曾经是北京西北防线的城墙。

长城始建于公元前221年，旨在保卫刚刚统一的秦国北方边境免受蛮夷侵扰。在以后的朝代中，长城不断被增修和加固。与其说长城是一个个相连的防御堡垒，倒不如说是绵延5500多英里的一系列建筑部分的组合，并且直到19世纪的清朝之前，它一直是中华帝国疆域的边界。如果算上现在为了满足日益增长的游客需求而进行的一些简单修葺，可以说到目前为止长城还是一个未完成的工程。

和流行观点相反的是，在太空中仅凭肉眼是看不到长城的。而且一些由夯土建筑的老城墙现在根本看不出来。但令人振奋的是，另外一些老城墙正被重新挖掘出来：去年在中国西部靠近内蒙古的甘肃省，一个政府组织的地质测绘研究项目发现了埋藏于沙土下长约180英里的明长城遗迹。

小巴停在了一个叫长峪城的村庄里，这里印证了长城的悠久历史。在14世纪到17世纪，长峪城的人民在窑洞里烧制砖石用以修建垛口、城墙、瓮城，筑造了几百公里的长城。几个世纪之后，长峪城成了旅游观光胜地。最近这里举办了一次徒步比赛，吸引了很多夜间徒步和日间徒步爱好者的参与。

开始徒步行走之后，那些装备齐全的一伙人立马凸显出优势，许多人直到旅途的结束我才碰到他们。而我们这群从莫斯科撤退的残兵们，则三三两两的落在队伍的后面。导游海德不得不垫后以确保后面的人不至于落后的太多——其实就是我和另外一位马来西亚的金融理财师。我确实已经力不从心了，但即使是Beijing Hikers里最强壮的人平常也是属于“沙发土豆”(电视迷)一族。沿着山脊向上攀爬十分困难。而我们身后的层层山峦则形成了像长城一样绵延不绝的险峻地势。

徒步从一开始的闲庭信步变成现在的筋疲力尽。我身上每一寸关节都在发热，把我的衣服都汗湿了。在短暂的休息当中，我回想起那些充当苦力的将士们和明朝的哨兵们，他们是具有何等的毅力和耐力来征服这些山径的。

渐渐的，山中的小径变得越来越陡峭和荒凉。据我们一位导游陈扎克(Zach Chen)说，长城就像是中世纪的美军冲绳岛基地。在北边，长城可作为汉族的基地，慢慢的向游牧民族渗透。在南边，长城又很好地保护了中原地区制窑、制铁业和农业的发展，总之是为了取得有利的防御地位。

“当时这里一点也不荒凉，是许多活动的中心，有依墙而种的大片农田，甚至还有妓院，”他说。

当我们爬到山峦的顶峰，壮观的景色呈现在眼前。长城仿佛一条中国巨龙，在山谷之间蜿蜒着、盘旋着，时隐时现。内蒙古方向吹来的刺骨的北风提示着我们哪边是抗击蛮夷的战场，哪边是明朝的疆土。

经历了22个世纪的变迁，长城已经面目全非。尤其是在文化大革命时期，长城被看作是封建压迫的象征、对封建势力的献礼，而遭到破坏。一些城墙看起来还保持了原有的面貌，透着白色的灰石。每段城墙的末端都耸立着防御堡垒。在古代，这里能容纳两个骑马的士兵。但如今，它已经伤痕累累，不堪重负。我们的导游就此缩短了此次行程。Beijing Hikers的组织者们试图尽量减小对这些古迹的破坏。但即使最小心的旅行团也会略有影响。

回到我们出发的地方，导游给大家分发了茶水、糕点和啤酒。没人愿意去喝那冰冷的啤酒。我们这队的领队人正在用冒着热气的茶水温暖他那赤膊的双手。我问他是不是一路上都没带手套？

“是的。我从谢菲尔德来。我们那的人都很坚强。”其实我不愿意透露我在牛仔裤里还穿了一条丝质的连裤袜，这是我的同行在临行前非逼迫我穿上的。谢天谢地，我们终于拖着疲惫不堪的双腿、汗流浃背的回到了车里。这寒冷的天气都快让我们发疯了。

彼得·夏伯特是FT香港办公室新闻编辑。

译者/何利