"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us." -- Dickens

We went to the Great Wall today. It was a big day for us. We had spent the night at the Grand Hyatt in supreme luxury. Sam and I are sharing a suite with Betty and Gabi. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, internet access and marble tubs. The pool is the most beautiful I have ever seen.

In a lovely and generous gesture, Dave treated the whole group to a wonderful indulgence: our own air-conditioned mini-van with seating for 23 passengers. We filched some fabulous rolls, meats and cheese from the breakfast buffet. ("They expect us to take stuff," said Jeannie, as she stashed several carefully-made sandwiches into her purse. ) On Ching Ching's advice, we rejected the touristy and heavily-trafficked Badaling section of the wall in favor of the Simitai section 45-minutes farther away from Beijing, making it a 2 1/2 hour drive. The time went by quickly, though. Sam and Ryan had their Game Boys. Jeannie and Dave had their Blackberries. Betty finally got around to braiding Gabi's hair, a 2-hour undertaking that hurts like heck for Gabi. I kept her distracted with stories. First, the story of "Two Friends," which was a spinoff of the bedtime series "Four Friends." Then the true-life story, "When Uncle Jeff Covered the Tiananmen Square Incident," which Gabi missed yesterday. This was followed by several other stories of my life, afterwhich Gabi graciously thanked me even though it was I who should have thanked her because I so rarely get such an appreciative and captive audience.

After about 2 hours and 15 minutes, the van slowed to a stop and we noticed that traffic had backed up for as far as we could see. "We can't go any farther," said our driver. There was an accident. We inched to the front of the snarl -- you can do that in Beijing, there seem to be no traffic laws -- and saw a huge truck toppled to its side, the windshield shattered, blocking the entire two-lane road. We also saw a crookedly parked bus with passengers standing outside in the rain. A police officer gave our driver directions for a simple detour so we made a U-turn and were on our way again.

The detour took a long time. It was approaching 12 noon and we had been riding since 8 a.m. when Jeannie insisted we stop for a bathroom break. The driver tried to find a public toilet, but we were too far gone. "Does he understand that we're willing to use the bushes?" said Jeannie. "He can't find a place to pull over," said Betty, who was doing much of the translating. We finally stopped in field where there were no bushes in sight, giving us a perfect opportunity to practice Betty's brilliant parasol dance routine. This ingenious maneuver debuted at the Stone Forest in Inner Mongolia when I had an emergency in the middle of an afternoon of touring. Betty and I retreated off stage where she opened our umbrellas in front of her, twirling them and singing a Chinese love song while I squatted behind her. No one was the wiser and I left the scene with my dignity in tact.

This time, however, we had the kids and four umbrellas. I don't know any Chinese love songs. Instead, I accompanied Betty with the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." We must have been quite a sight for the motorists that passed us -- three moms and four kids with umbrellas. It took us a long time because we all took turns and Jeannie couldn't stop laughing.

When we finally got to the parking lot at Simitai, we found only one tour bus in the parking lot and an ominous sky. Just as we stepped out of our van, we felt a few drops of rain.

Nothing, however, could have deterred us. It was our second to last day in Beijing and we had spent 4 hours getting to the wall. At the least, we would get to the actual Wall and taking a few pictures, then get back in the van and go home. We put on colorful rain ponchos marched to the cable cars. Once at the top, we could walk up to one of the watchtowers on the wall to take pictures. There was a spooky feeling in the air. Here we were ,virtually alone at the Great Wall, one of the world's most famous sights. (Who said it was the only manmade structure visible from the moon? "Must have been an astronaut," Sam reasoned.)

Each cable car took two people. The kids wanted to ride together but we wouldn't let them. "I don't believe we're riding cable cars in the rain," said Jeannie. "I don't believe we're riding CHINESE cable cars in the rain."
She got on with Ryan, then I got on with Sam, Dave with Ella, and Betty brought up the rear has she always did, with Gabi. The cable car moved very, very slowly and the sky was so dark and cloudy we couldn't see the top. The seats had been wiped dry by the attendants, but the cars were still wet and very rusty. As we ascended, the rain began in earnest. Looking up, we saw a clearing in the clouds where a watchtower was shrouded in mist. Sam said it looked like Hogwarts and we were young wizards heading up for the first time. To me, it was magical too. It was unearthly. One of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen. The valley below became deeper and deeper as we rose and each time I thought we'd reach the top, the clouds parted to reveal another hundred of yards in front of us. Then came a bright flame of lightning quickly followed by a loud rumble of thunder. Sam and I grabbed each other's arms and smiled nervously. It started to pour. The cable continued to rise, which was a comfort. Another flash of lightning and a louder roar of thunder. The car stopped. We dangled helplessly on the line like little marionettes with make-believe smiles on our faces, pretending not to be scared. The cable started up again and we were temporarily relieved. Then a wicked slash of lightning hit very close above us. I heard sizzling sound. Later, Dave said he heard the sizzle and smelled smoke, too.

The car stopped and it just poured and poured. We were suspended in air, soaking wet, and scared. Sam reached across to me and pulled my poncho closed over my skirt, as if that would keep me dry. Then he said, "You know what my favorite book is?" I said I didn't, please tell me about it. He recited the entire plotline to the "Supernaturalists." We continued to dangle. The cars were too far apart for us to communicate with the others, but no one appeared to be panicking.

Terror has a way of sharpening all the senses, making this otherwise spectacular sight all the more awe-inspiring. Betty later said that in that moment, her own life struggles seem puny and she felt like an old soul returning back to the earth. Jeannie, we later found out, was trying to amuse Ryan with word games, but he refused to play, making wisecracks instead, so she continued to play without him. She later realized that all the words she came up with were weather-related. Ella reported that Dave wore a tight, fake smile that made it obvious he was terrified.

The cars reached the top. (Of course. You wouldn't be reading this now if it didn't.) The attendants became very animated as they pulled us in, radioing to others in frantic voices. We were the last ones on the cars, the only ones on.

We were directed to a shelter and told to stay there until the rain stopped. The adults remained closed lipped and stoic for the sake of the children. "Well, my hair is ruined," I said, as we got into the shelter. Jeannie and Dave tried to figure out whether it was safe to take the cable back down again. I said I couldn't take the cable car down because I promised God I that if He got me to the top safely, I'd never get on another one for the rest of my life. Dave smiled. "What else did you promise him, Wendy?"

The rain continued for an hour. When it finally let up, we were told that the cable car would NOT take passengers down. We started to climb up but were stopped by police who said no one was allowed to climb up. The only alternative, we were told, was to climb down ourselves -- a 1 1/2 hour hike that could take longer with children. We were disappointed that after all that, we wouldn't get to see the Great Wall. But we started to climb down.

Ryan was indignant. Sam was quite unhappy, too. We were soaked and the plastic ponchos were sticking to our skin. Dave explained patiently that even though there was only a small chance that the cable cars were dangerous, we could not take the chance and that often in life you have to play it safe, especially when the stakes were so great. I told Sam I was just as miserable as he was, and I'd never put him through this next trial unless it was absolutely necessary.

As we started to descend, we found ourselves accompanied by some local Chinese people. A man who walked next to me pointed out items of interest, such as "windows" in the wall where weapons were positioned and engraving on bricks that indicated the date of repairs to the wall. We realized, happily, that our path was on the wall itself. So we made it afterall. Feeling better, we began to enjoy our companions who we soon realized were the hawkers that sell postcards and picture books to tourists. One hawker had assigned himself to each adult in our party, Jeannie noticed. We had read that these persistent "guides" could be a nuisance and can ruin a visit to the wall with their relentless selling. This time, however, they had a story to tell us.

"This is the 6th watchtower," my new friend told me as we passed it. "Today at the 11th tower three people were [unintelligible]." He made a cutting gesture across his throat. "Dead?" I asked. He nodded and made the gesture again. Then in a combination of Chinese language and pantomime, he told me that they had been struck by lightening in one of the watchtowers that had a hole in the roof. The rain poured through the hole and the tourists had no protection from the lightning.

He pointed to the cable cars. "You see how no one is going up or down any more? You see how they won't let anyone climb to the top?" Are they foreigners? "I think so." What country are they from? "I think from France or England," he said. I called to tell Betty. The guide told me to stay quiet. "Don't talk about it," he said. "It's bad. It's bad for business." I realized we'd probably be his only "guests" that day.

He was lowkeyed and seemed to be decent, warning me of slippery or loose stones on the way down, telling me stories. They exchanged information with the other sellers positioned on the wall as we walked past, getting updates on the accident. It was two tourists, he said. One of them lost a leg. The bodies are still up there. Uniformed men passed us as they made the climb UP the path. "Police," my guide said under his breath. He called out to them. "You're not using the cable cars?" One officer grinned at him, as if the guide was a wiseguy. "No cable cars," the officer said.

My guide reached into his jacket and surreptiously brought out a souvenir book of the Great Wall. "Miss," he said. "Could I interest you..?" Later, I replied. I'll buy one at the bottom when we're done with this, OK? He nodded understandingly. "What does he want?" Dave and Jeannie asked. "He wants to sell us souvenirs," I replied. "Tell him we'll buy anything he wants," they said. "It'll be our offering to the Gods of the Great Wall for sparing our lives."

The climb down was enchanting. We passed through watchtowers in varying states of decay and walked through several layers of mist. At times, the air was as clear as we had ever seen it during our entire stay in Beijing. All the time, we were alone without another tourist in sight. It was so beautiful, I begged Sam and Betty to stop for pictures or at least to look up, but they were more interested in getting to safety. At onen point, the guide said, "Listen. Those are the ambulances. See how they're getting closer?" Later, Betty said that her guide told her that the bodies would have to be examined and photographed before they would be brought down.

The guides stopped us just short of the end, before we were about to reach a phalanx of souvenir hawkers at the base of the hill near the parking lot. Betty bought first, establishing a whopping 100 yuan price for the picture book. The three other adults followed her lead, grateful to the guides for helping us down. They pulled out postcards, too, and we bought those, too. We didn't want to haggle. It was unseemly. They didn't haggle either and disappeared before we hit the aisle of souvenir stands near the parking lot. We started peeling off our ponchos and jamming them into a garbage can, but a T-shirt seller stopped us and asked if he could have them. Sure, we said, and handed them over. I can see how they'd be useful to cover up merchandise in the rain.

As we climbed back into the van, our guide re-appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Miss," he said, "Please be careful. Have a safe trip home." Moments later, he was gone. Jeannie said, "One of our guides just disppeared into the bushes." We boarded the bus and took off our wet shoes and socks. Several of us spread out on the seats to nap. The accident had still not been entirely cleared up and we had to take another detour to get back to the hotel. We got back at 6:30 p.m. -- about 6 hours late. Jeannie emailed Ching ching on her Blackberry that we'd have to cancel the big dinner at the Taiwanese restaurant but could meet her at the hotel buffet. We all regaled ching ching and her husband Qu Jiang with our tales of adventure. We all ate heartily. Ching ching presented us each with silk picture frames of the only pictures she had of us -- the ones taken at the hospital where they stitched my eye. They stopped in our rooms briefly and then went on their way to start their vacation to Vietnam the next day.

The children were easily persuaded to go to bed -- Sam in my king-sized bed and Gabi in Betty's. Betty and I stayed up to gather our thoughts and check our email. Dave had emailed me a wire service story about the day's events:

One Greek tourist killed by lightning at the Great Wall, her male companion injured and taken to Beijing Union Hospital (right behind our hotel); a truck and bus collide near the Great Wall, killing 7 passengers and severely injuring 10. Jeannie would later say that this is when the gravity of our situation hit her full force.