Wasn't the Great Wall to Keep Out the Hordes?

Once upon a time in China, there was no better way to get away from it all than by strolling the Great Wall. Beijing's chaos and clutter could quickly be forgotten as one traversed green hills, spending hours in blissful solitude along the snaking path of the world's longest stone structure. No more. The wall remains great, but nowadays it provides a path not to peace but plenty. Commerce is king in new China, and the wall is the centerpiece in the Middle Kingdom's endless quest for kitsch. Even once-wild regions along the wall are filled with billboards boasting one roadside attraction after another—water parks, bungee jumping, bumper cars, boat rides, cable lifts and rifle ranges.

It is ironic that the Great Wall, intended to keep outsiders like the Mongols at bay, has become a gateway for tourist hordes. The wall now attracts outsiders in droves. Ten million foreigners toured China last year, up 20% from 1999, and you can bet your last yuan that nearly all climbed or rode a cable car to the top of the wall. Further wear and tear comes from billions of Chinese feet. Blame a shorter workweek and three new weeklong holidays—all part of Beijing's efforts to boost domestic tourism. Two-thirds of tourist revenues, which topped $50 billion last year, according to China National Tourism Administration, came from Chinese travelers, whose spending soared 63% over 1999. That keeps tills ringing but takes a toll on sites, none more vulnerable than the Great Wall.

Part of the problem is the enormity of the wall, which stretches somewhere from 1,600 to more than 5,600 km, depending on which bits are included in the count. (Numerous sections have been added here and there since construction started more than 2,000 years ago.) Although restoration has increased considerably since China opened up to visitors, the tourist boom outpaces planning. That's the view of William Lindesay, author of the upcoming Hiking on History, Exploring Beijing's Great Wall on Foot. Lindesay made his first 2,400-km trek on the wall in 1987, at about the same time the structure was listed as a World Natural and Cultural Heritage Site by unesco. "The changes," he says, "are almost entirely negative." Lindesay, who leads hikes to remote parts of the wall (www.wildwall.com), may be the poster boy for wall protection, but mainland media have also jumped on the bandwagon. Under the maxim of "Defending the Great Wall from Modern Attack," they've launched clean-up campaigns and called for bins to be placed in trash-strewn sections. Last year, rangers began patrolling the wall in a program financed by Norway's Norsk Hydro.

Still, rampant development is winning, as burgeoning trinket stalls and toll booths attest. Finding serenity has become a cat-and-mouse game. Until a year ago, Simatai remained pretty pristine despite its cable car, and naturalists had hoped the sheer slopes would keep tourists close to the gondola landing. But after the government added a bridge, making remote sections accessible, boat rides, bungee jumping and other fast-buck activities followed.

Lindesay wonders what will be left of "the world's most extensive and continuous open-air museum." He notes: "The wall is a great architectural work, but its majesty comes from its setting, its position on the ridges and peaks. Its magnificence is part building, part backdrop. Take away the latter and you have a classic view of pollution at its worst."

And that would be a tragedy, especially for the Chinese. Surveys show the wall is China's most reproduced image, popping up on the first Chinese credit cards and as a regular backdrop for television and fashion shows. Last summer, party-organizers The Cheese Group hauled tons of equipment to the wall so young mainlanders could rave upon it. Ecstasy for them, but another sign that the Chinese might love the wall to death.

Planning, meanwhile, is notoriously haphazard. Despite its size, the wall slips through the cracks, overseen by no single ministry. Environmental groups may be saving one section even as, a few stones away, a James Bond-style zipline is being installed. Another project now under way will add a swimming pool, horse racetrack and cable car to a remote section of the wall skirting the Tengger Desert in Ningxia Hui autonomous region.

The answer could be a Great Wall Zone, with planning handled by one agency. That may end complaints from tourists who have to pay repeated tolls on long treks from Jinshanling to Simatai. But officials in the separate jurisdictions along the length are reluctant to hand over control to the central government. And why would they want to? They have hikers in a headlock, each area extracting its due along the way. Pay again and again or hike miles back. One school-group leader got nailed for hundreds of dollars. "The Great Wall, indeed," he huffed. "More like the Great Scam." So much for serenity.