Trekking the Great Wall of China

Field Notes: The Great Wall of China
Date: August 23-30, 2019
Location: Mutianyu & Jiankou, China

Restoration vs. Ruin: Finding the Balance

At 21, standing on the Great Wall, I felt like I was stepping into some epic historical fantasy, except with way more tourists and overpriced water bottles. As someone just starting out in cultural preservation, I kept circling back to one big question: Where’s the line between keeping history alive and overdoin’ it? Seeing different sections, some carefully rebuilt and others left wild made me rethink what preservation means.

Mutianyu is pristine. The stonework looks fresh, the pathways are even, and the whole place is designed for easy access. There are cable cars, guardrails, and souvenir stands. It’s still the Wall, but something about it feels curated like a museum exhibit instead of a relic. It’s beautiful, but does it still hold the same weight when so much of it has been reconstructed? Part of me wanted to appreciate the accessibility, but another part felt like I was missing the Wall’s rough edges, the parts that made it real.

Then there’s Jiankou, where the Wall is raw and crumbling, barely touched by restoration crews. Walking here felt like stepping into a time machine, minus the safety regulations. Broken watchtowers, trees reclaiming the stones, and a steep, precarious climb that made me question all my life choices. This felt like history in its natural state: unfiltered, unpredictable. I remember thinking: How long can this last? If left alone, will Jiankou eventually just disappear or crumble? And if it gets restored, will it lose its soul?

China has put massive efforts into protecting the Wall, but every section tells a different story. Simatai, for example, is a blend of both worlds, partially restored yet still retaining much of its original ruggedness. Walking here felt like threading between two eras, the carefully maintained paths giving way to wild, untouched stretches that forced me to stay present with every step. Unlike Mutianyu, Simatai doesn’t feel too polished, and unlike Jiankou, it doesn’t feel entirely left behind. It exists in a space where preservation and authenticity are in conversation, rather than competition.

So what’s the right move? Keep patching it up for tourists, or let nature and time take their course?