And Then It Snowed ... Chapter 2

Saturday morning saw us huddled around the table, making momentous plans for our hike up to The Great Wall.  It towered above our village. Majestic and mystifying. In a sense, offering us protection from what lay in silence on the other side. The Wall has never ceased to grip my imagination. My wonderment. For over 2000 years those mammoth rocks and look-out towers have witnessed mankind develop. Or not. The   21 196km of wall meanders through Northern China. Its unyielding presence standing with pride and fortitude.

All the serious planning required drinking filter coffee with condensed milk – an absolute necessity when travelling. That drink, combined with endless patience and keen humour, got us through the next few days.

Outside the skies darkened. Gentle rains fell silently onto the barren earth. Wrapped up in layers of clothing, we began to explore our immediate surroundings. With certain structures having stood firmly for the past 500 years, the quaint village displayed its charm and character. Nestled at the foothills of The Great Wall, this gem from the Ming Dynasty clearly provided the comfort and safety the older villagers desired. For many of them had never left the boundaries to explore further. Many of them still proudly wore the Mao suits.

 

We followed the pathways which were becoming increasingly slippery. Little children waved. The elderly stared. Some beckoning us into a rustic room. In a basket lay a selection of lollipops. Local cigarettes and matches filled the second basket. A stash of locally brewed alcohol adorned the one and only shelf. Life was simple here. The basic necessities were there.  The Spirit of bygone days lingered in an atmosphere charged with antiquity.

Taking photos is one of my passions. It brings me joy. What better way to capture those golden moments than through the lens of a camera. However, capturing that pristine beauty photographically is one thing. Witnessing first-hand the miracles of nature, and storing them deep within one’s memory, is a gift for which I will forever be grateful. A sacred gift.

According to Mr. Chen, the rain would not last long. He suggested we  err on the side of caution and rather climb The Wall the following day. Drinking ‘Amarula,’ a traditional South African alcoholic drink, kept us warm. Playing ‘Thirty Seconds’– the South African version – kept us in stitches of laughter. We had all become increasingly patriotic since living in China. The game always managed to ignite poignant memories of happy days growing up on the mango farm in Africa. The happiness in the room was captured by the warm glow of traditional lamps. No deadlines. No stress. A place of ease.  Surrounded by intense beauty. Little did we know that the natural world was to display even more of her sheer magnificence.

It began to snow lightly. The flakes fell softly. Cascading in their own mythical dance towards the ground. We continued playing the game, but all eyes were on the ever-increasing flakes. Eventually, with a mug of piping hot coffee in hand, we sipped the sweetness as we witnessed nature presenting one of her flawless miracles. The flakes got bigger, heavier and more beautiful. 

By dinner time, we had experienced our first blizzard. Temperatures plummeted. The stillness of the night was shattered by a thunderstorm wreaking havoc in the dark skies. The piercing lightning throwing balls of light on the white magic surrounding our home. Winds howled through the already stark environment. Their wailing creating an aura of eeriness. Throughout the night, the snow fell heavily. Thoughts of climbing The Wall in the morning were fading fast.

To be continued ...