Wild Sage on the Solstice: Reaching an Auspicious 888km near China’s Great Wall
It has been raining all morning and it is a literal damper on the mood as we walk to the start line of the Yunhai CTT 168k, which means ‘Sea of Clouds’, part of the 2024 Chicheng Ultra Trail. Early afternoon we set off through the northern Chinese town of Chicheng 200km north of Beijing, splashing through puddles. After a couple of kilometers, we head up a track with small neatly planted pine trees on one side and fruit plants on the other.
As the sky brightens, the mood lightens and the beauty of the land takes over. Sitting 1000m above sea level after the long, dry winter when temperatures drop up to -30C° and the landscape turns brown, the greenery has returned with a sense of freshness. We continue to climb and the land turns to heath. Tiny wildflowers and berries grow among the rocks, and the damp air is pervaded by the strong scent of wild sage.
By mid-afternoon, the sun has returned. The latitude of Northern China benefits from longer daylight hours than the south of the country and for me the extra daylight is welcome — I know I will have around eight hours of running in darkness.
Most of the checkpoints are set up in small countryside villages consisting of one-storey, honey-coloured brick houses with yards and small vegetable gardens. All the houses face south so that they benefit from the sun. Elderly villagers sit outdoors chatting in groups and calling out cheers as we run through. The terrain connecting the villages ranges from disused, overgrown tracks with hard, uneven, cracked ruts earth dried in the strong sunshine to soft, steep, crumbly earth through woods and rocky riverbed-like areas where water finds its way down a valley in no fixed way — sometimes in flash floods.
Night falls and the most incredible full moon rises — it is the mid-summer solstice. Thunder rumbles in the distance and light drops of rain start to fall — it feels refreshing after the 30+C° temperature of the afternoon. Lightning flashes dart around the silhouettes of the hills in the moonlight. It is magical and I continue running during the night, energized by the moon.
Just before dawn, I arrive at a checkpoint. I feel tired but revive myself with a bowl of watery rice porridge and pickles, plus some coffee. It sounds like an odd combination, but at that moment it is both hydrating and warming. I head out of the village yet I don’t get far before tiredness hits. It is 5 am and I have been going for 16 hrs. I feel cold and wrap an emergency blanket around myself, lie down at the edge of a maize field, and set my alarm for ten minutes.
I awake to the sound of my alarm. I feel groggy but start to move again. The sun is white behind a layer of mist, but by 7 am it has risen and is strong. Cows graze over wide meadows. These animals are incredibly agile, climbing up steep slopes, eating small trees, and sitting at the top of hills. The route continues down past banks of short flowering bushes to wider pastures. I hear cries of shepherds gathering their goats and sheep together. Beautiful dark horses with their coats glistening in the sun canter around, excited by the strong wind blowing across the lower grasslands.
I leave a checkpoint and head directly up a hill to reach 1700m. Routes in China are always direct and go directly uphill — no zigzagging. The strong wind on one side of the mountain makes it feel cold but woodland areas break the wind. As I continue to climb, on my left side I become aware of large moss-covered stones in a line all the way up the hillside. The piles of stones then become a neatly built wall in some sections. The line of wall stays with me and then huge mounds of stones appear. I am focused on climbing in the bright sun and strong wind to reach the top of the mountain but curious about the stones. These stones form a section of the Great Wall with former lookout towers called Dushikou, which was built between the mountains and the grasslands around 1500AD and was the site of countless battles. The wall looks different from the main Great Wall because it was built as a single wall, contrasting the much better-known dual-wall structure.
The vastness of these areas makes it hard to have a sense of distance. Reaching 7m in parts, the drop off one side of the wall is dramatic and sweeps down a hillside. Finally, I reach the summit and my descent begins. I return to the grasslands and early afternoon reach the second checkpoint for changing supplies. I have another ten-minute nap — this time in a room with mats. A couple of other runners do the same.
I set off again. The afternoon sun feels very strong and bright and I am moving slowly in the sunshine. I don’t see any other runners on the route. After a while, I hear a voice of encouragement behind me. Literally meaning “add oil”, a young 100k runner runs past smiling and saying “Come on little big sister” (an affectionate reference to both my height and age). She reflects the tone of everybody in this race — always encouraging and enthusiastic. I watch as she disappears up the hill with incredible grace and ease. I try to mimic her style but am simply much slower!
I float past some more checkpoints and darkness starts to fall again. One of the sections between two villages is paved with white concrete. Although it is flat, I find it hard to run on this surface, but I have just two checkpoints left before the end of the race, so I keep going. An elderly farmer in the fields says sympathetically and genuinely, “You must be tired”. I look at the fields of vegetables he is tilling and feel embarrassed recognizing the physicality of his daily work.
There is one 750m hill left to conquer. At the insistence of one of the volunteers, I eat some noodles, head out of the checkpoint, and start climbing. The path becomes vague across moorland punctuated with short pine trees, holes in the earth where a tree might be planted, and thorn trees. I can see a few lights moving up the hill in the distance. The lights dart around and keep disappearing. I discover it is because the greenery is dense and the path has become rocky. Then I see the arc of lamps hitting the clouds. A luminous tent is like a beacon lit up on the hillside for rescue services.
By this point we have left the vegetation, the strong wind has returned and it is raining lightly. The reflective markers of the course have disappeared and I feel disoriented. I am looking out across a sea of clouds. I check my GPS and follow a route that doesn’t feel instinctively correct but eventually, I catch a marker dancing in the wind in the beam of my headlamp.
I reach the final checkpoint and with just 6km to go, everybody is united by a sense of wanting to finish. We run, climb, and head down the final hill on a road of soft sand. 35hrs 47mins, 168k and 6950m later, I finish 8th out of the women.
This brings my accumulated race total for the first six months of the year to 888km. What have I learned during this time? I must keep getting stronger, keep training, and improve on my weaknesses. To sum up, I want to quote from a different sage, the words of the Chinese general and strategist Sun-Tzu. “We are not fit to lead an army on the march unless we are familiar with the face of the country — its mountains and forests, its pitfalls and precipices, its marshes and swamps.”
