Still, my ascent began easily enough. I passed through dry brooks and rest spots that afforded adequate elbow space for appreciating the valley views and crisp air.

But my breathing soon grew as heavy as my cramped quadriceps with every strained step I took.

Was it this slope under this Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) part of the Wall where a number of hapless hikers lost their way and even their lives in the dead of winter not too long ago? Yikes.

Worse still, after an hour of hard climbing, I realized we were not even at the halfway mark - wherever that was.

As I felt my way around the boulders and bush, I hit upon what I thought then was a brilliant idea - following the sporadic trails of trash on the side of the mountain.

From plastic mineral bottles to chocolate and candy wrappers, the recent garbage must surely be proof that avid Chinese trekkers passed through the same route to the wall remnants. Like the energy surge from an emergency power snack bar, I felt the adrenalin from this revelation of mine pump through my tired legs and shoulders. I bounded through the crooks and crevices as I kept an eye on the bits of rubbish.

After a few minutes and meters of exhilaration, I came up against the side of a dried mountain stream and felt my heart sink lower than the abyss of the gorge behind me: Spread out on the slope's gray-rock surface was the gamut of garbage in splendid, plastic form.

This was no trail of trash, it was waste washed down from the Wall above during the wetter months.

Obviously, countless travelers had already made short work of the mountain - perhaps through a much easier route.

Great, I thought. I would explore that other way on my next attempt. But I might load up on disposable packs of food and drink first, just in case I really get lost.