I think, by the time I got down to 1,700m down I was starting to feel weakness in my legs. It might have been that the air was closer, or cleaner or more moist. It might have just been the exertion of going down stairs for over an hour. With only about 300m to go to the bottom, I wasn't about to stop. Mask, frisky as he is, made it to the bottom first and recorded Gary and my descent. Once we got there we broke out into a chorus of “We are the Champions!” people looked at us like we were fools. We were just giddy with our success.

It was short-lived, as it turns out. Going down approximately 4,000 stairs is vastly different than climbing them. My knees weren’t overexerted but I got winded very quickly. After making it past the first set of switchbacks – this staircase is set up like a steeply banked road up a mountain, my heart was pounding. Trying for deep breaths I found I had to stop every so often to get my ticker back into the normal range and force my lungs to function properly.

The guys got worried, seeing my red face and my trying to breathe. They are wondering if they are going to have to carry me out. Or, if they are going to have to hire someone to carry me out.

There are porters with litters fashioned of bamboo to carry those out who cannot meet the challenge. Gary inquired on the price of such a service. It was over 400Yuan and that would probably be for a normal, Chinese sized person. I weigh twice what someone 4'10" with barely any meat on her bones weighs. They would probably charge double for me, or go charging back up the stairs in terror at the prospect of having to carry me. 

I don't need porters. I just need to get my wind back.

The guys climbed ahead at my urging. Left to my own tempo and with no escort, I found other climbers very encouraging. 'Jia You' they kept saying: "Keep going!" We were all adventurers in the crater, didn't matter if I was foreign, big, worn out, gasping for breath or massaging my knees – the one thing I did not do the whole climb. The Chinese stopped to massage knees and pound calves – their legs, not young cows. In our various stops we encouraged each other. That is the important part. Many asked where I was from and the usual questions I get, like about my age and my family. Rather hard to make entertaining conversation when you are trying to catch your breath, but I managed.

Every so often, Gary and Mask made sure I was OK by shouting a greeting or encouragement to me. I waved at them and tackled another set of stairs. At some point I thought that this adventure might have been a mistake on my part, but that was only once, toward the end of the concrete handrails painted to look like wood.

One interminable switchback after another. I rounded the current one and there was Mask, waiting for me. Groan! Did they resume their former worries about my passing out? Is that why he's waiting?

No, he just wanted to formally escort me to the snack stand at the halfway point, where Gary sat waiting for us with cans of Red Bull and a glass of hot tea. hot dog! I made it to the halfway point! I am invincible! Nothing can stop me now!

And that was just the halfway point.

Finishing the climb with Gary who, by now, was feeling some pain we rewarded ourselves with a hot, stuffed potato snack. Mask had gone on ahead to retrieve our bags before they got locked in that office overnight. Gary expressed concern over how we would get back to town. We were back on level with the Earth; mundane concerns again intruded.

So what was the coolest part of this adventure: being the only foreigner there? Descending and then ascending on my own power? That tasty potato cake? The company I keep? Seeing that woman walk her pig down the road?

Nope! The coolest part was the 10 minute motorcycle ride back to the main road! The guys on one scoot and I on another, the bikes piloted by expert riders sped us the rest of the way up the hill, our laughter tossed to the winds.