37th day (Trees)

A fifth walker was joining us today, waiting for us at 5.30 at Tel Azika junction. Trouble is we got going late and arrived there at 5.45. Oh well, Mark has known us as many years as we've known each other, being an ex-Scopus boy like us and had no choice but accept our tardiness and apologies. I like it, that more than 30 years after graduating from a Melbourne school the 5 of us are about to walk up and down hills here in Israel, not far from Jerusalem. It's special.
The first hill was a steep climb up to Tel Azika but there are 2 alternative ways up which seemed more attractive. One was to leisurely drive up the road that leads to the car park of the site. The second is to battle a dirt track, testing the off road abilities of 2 low-to-the-ground Mazda 3's until you get to a point where even a Land Rover wouldn't pass. And which route did we take? No prize for guessing.

From this point we climbed steeply by foot to the top of the hill, having saved about 300 metres of climbing buy taking the Mazda cross-country. Hmm. Regardless of how we got there, the site atop Tel Azika is impressive. This is the place of the legendary battle between David and Goliath and there are various plaques set in stone with quotes from the Books of Samuel and Chronicles, explaining what went on all those years ago. To the east we could see Bet Shemesh below us and Jerusalem not that far off in the distance. To the west, the plains that lead to Ashqelon on the coast. Even the summer haze didn't diminish the view. The route down from the tel had various archaeological features such as channels hewn out of the rock to lead water to cisterns and the usual stone walls.

We would soon discover that the purpose of walking down from one tel was to lead us up to another ruin. This was pretty much the course of the days walk; a variety of archeological sites linked by a variety of ways of getting to them (the cynics amongst the readers are probably translating "a variety of ways of getting to them" as different modes of transport, but have no fear, the entire route was covered on foot). In retrospect, between the addition of two extra co-walkers and the varied route, it would turn out to be one of the most interesting days that we'd done to date.

True to course, we walked down a hill and up a hill, passing en-route an unnamed ruin that was far better preserved than many others that we'd passed that were named and even have pages in Wikipedia with full descriptions in vernacular Albanian. Such is the nature of Wikipedia that it is a cornucopia of arcane subjects. Such too is the nature of Israel, that on any given hill you only need to scratch the surface and you're likely to find yet another ruin from one period or another. A short steep climb from the unnamed ruin led to the Shkalon ruins, which was a Byzantine agricultural settlement.

As would be expected in mid July, we were concerned about the heat as the day wore on. For the most part we walked through forest which ranged from the usual mix of planted pines and natural Mediterranean species, with some noticeable additions. At one point we passed an old gnarled olive tree, then another and yet one more. Soon we were walking through a wild olive forest. Olive trees are, of course, natural to the entire Middle East but there are very few wild, old growth forests of these beautiful trees. If most oak trees in a forest look pretty much the same, then every olive tree is twisted and stunted in its own individual way. It wasn't just the olive trees that stood out today. We passed many individual trees that stood out like natural sculptures. The forests we walked through gave welcome shade and were pleasant to walk through but weren't very different from many other forests that we've encountered on the 500 km that we've covered to date. I don't recall, however, such an assortment of trees that stood out in a way that I would remember them. There were trees that were deformed, growing inside rocks or ruins, or stood large and alone away from surrounding trees. They made this leg all the more memorable for me. When I consider that we will be continuing the shvil in the desert south of Arad as far as Eilat, this is probably the last forest we will walk through on the shvil. Forget forest…We're probably not goi

ng to see too many trees other than an occasional desert oasis for the next 400 km or so.

From the Shkalon ruins we had a nice long downhill which of course meant that we had to climb everything that we'd descended in order to reach the highest point of the walk, the Mesuah Lookout. This is a fire lookout which in order to do its' job, has to have clear and commanding views of the surrounding area. For us, that meant a stunning 360 degree panorama. The fire tower wasn't your average ladder with a platform on top, but looked as if Gaudi himself had been commissioned to do a special project here in Park Britannia. On a more sobering note, whilst driving home at the end of the day, we heard on the radio that part of this large park, surrounding the lookout, had been ravaged by fire. The damage was apparently not extensive but it was sort of scary to think that three hours earlier we had been walking through that exact area.

We stopped here at the Mesuah Lookout for a break. That in itself doesn't warrant mention. What does deserve mention is that like the protesters in Tahrir Square in Cairo, the group was for the first time showing signs of food anarchy. The decision when to stop and what to eat is always taken by consensus. Today each member of the Gang of Five ate his sandwiches at different times, drank tea at different times and even had a rogolach without the accompanying Chinese tea (Garry was straight off the plane from China and hence couldn't get the usual mint, lemon grass and whatever else he concocts into his herbal tea. We had to suffice with Chinese tea). Could the sandwich revolt be the first cracks in shvil unity? Or was it simply a case of the masses expressing their will to be free and eat when they want? This was actually in keeping with a more political slant to conversations today. Whilst we all come from the same basic school of political thought, the 2 extra walkers, who both have clear and distinct insights and world views, allowed Yoni, Garry and myself to broaden the conversation. After probably close to 1000 km of walking together and 40 years of friendship, it could be said that we know each other's opinions pretty well, though on the previous day's walk I think I shocked Garry a bit with some of my unorthodox and perhaps harsh views on treating terrorists. Whilst I respect Mark's opinions, I have to admit some doubt was sown in my mind as to whether I should be taking him seriously or not when at a picnic spot along the way he trotted up to a plaster sculpture of a sheep and started patting it as if it was his pet. I think his boss is working him too hard.

The forest started to thin out as we reached the Tzora Ruins and as we headed to the last archeological site for the day, Tel Gadid, we were walking entirely in the open. It wasn't too late in the morning and a mild breeze was blowing, so we didn't feel too battered by the heat. We were walking along a spine that is actually the southern extremity of the Jerusalem Hills. To the East we had the very northern part of the Shfella, which leads into the Negev. To the West, also the Shfella, that leads to Ashdod and the coast. Even for the summer, the views were very impressive. From Tel Gadid we dropped down the eastern side of the ridge to Yoni's car, parked in a field alongside road no.38 that leads to Beit Govrin.

It had been a very solitary walk. We hadn't seen anyone else at any point, other than some guy driving his van along the dirt track we were walking on, that leads from no-where to no-where. An l ultra-light plane, that looks like those toy planes I used to glue together as a kid, but in this case with 2 real people inside, occasionally buzzed overhead and one actually landed in a field 15 metres away from the walking track. In keeping with our attempts at using as many different forms of transport as possible along the shvil, we were tempted to ask the pilot for a lift, but he can only take one passenger and that's a degree of shvil disunity that we weren't willing to take.

By the time we got into Yoni's car my legs were starting to feel the 24 km we'd done in 18 hours, but since it had been a while since we'd been on the trail and will be even longer till we return to it, I'll allow my legs to complain a bit. Given the good company, the varied and interesting walking and the great feeling just being back on the shvil, no other part of me was complaining.

36th day (Into The Dusk)

After the success of our previous 2-day shvil expedition we decided that we would repeat the same format in July. For those that couldn't be bothered reading the previous blog or have forgotten it since it was so long ago, we start walking in the late afternoon, about 4 p.m., when the temperature has dropped and the day is long. We did a short 10 km or so, keeping ourselves fresh for the longer, hotter leg the following day, which we started as early as possible so as to finish before the worst of the day's heat set in. The unknown in the equation is what has more of an affect; the mid July summer rather than early may spring heat, or the cooler Jerusalem hills rather than the hot Negev desert? Certainly the 38 degrees that the thermometer in Yoni's car showed had us worried that perhaps walking anywhere in Israel in July is folly.

When we disembarked from Garry's car at the starting point it felt like the temperature had dropped a bit and that we wouldn't get baked in the heat. At any rate, we had more pressing matters at hand than worrying about something we couldn't influence. Having left both guide books in Yoni's car which was parked at the end, we had to do these 10 kilometres without a safety net which so often proves to be not much help anyway. We promptly saw a clearly painted shvil sign on a rock leading up a path and thought nothing of the books we didn't have. The next marking had been painted over with grey paint, Mr. Shvil Painter's version of Tipp-Ex (Wite-Out for those on the other side of the Atlantic). We took this to be a bad omen. When the path led us to a dead end it became obvious that this was Mr. Shvil Painter's sick idea of a practical joke and we weren't laughing. Backtracking is one of our more common methods of shvilling but this just didn't feel right. We passed by the Shlomo Tussia-Cohen Memorial picnic ground that was in such a terrible state of neglect that we conjectured that Mr. Shvil Painter simply didn't want to bring unwitting shvillers to the vicinity. After searching in vain for the shvil path, we returned to Garry's car and drove up and down road 3866 hoping to find a shvil marking. Eventually, after wasting an hour, we found a real shvil sign and set of off at 5 p.m. I haven't mentioned that we had a guest shviller with us today. Yvonne, an old school friend of ours, had joined us on a previous walk and thought that joining us again was a good idea. After the shenanigans of forgotten books, unfound shvil markings and wandering around in circles in 35 degree heat, it would be safe to say that she regretted giving us the second chance.
The guide book that I read before starting (It wasn't with us, remember?) had us pass the tomb of a long dead Muslim sheikh. We couldn't find it, but didn't waste even a nanosecond trying to locate it. The only thing that we were looking for was shvil markings.
From the outset there were motifs that would repeat themselves over the next 2 days of walking. We were still in the area that may be defined as the Jerusalem Hills, which is part of the Judean Mountains. The "Jerusalem" part ensured lots of ruins, tels and assorted signs of 3,000 years of civilization. The "Hills" part meant starting the walk at 650 metres above sea level, affording us beautiful views and shady (very important in the summer!) forests.

Having missed the sheik's tomb, we strode past the Dorban ruins without a second glance. Both books give these ruins an aura akin to Massada. The 4 walkers saw a few shoddy broken walls, some fruit trees and some modern graffiti in the form of white, blue and orange stripes. I guess I shouldn't expect too much from a site that can trace its roots way back to king Hezekiah, who ruled over the Kingdom of Judah between 715 and 686 BCE during the first temple period. The views, however, didn't escape our attention. We walked above and then into a valley surrounded by trees and small settlements. Given that summer in Israel is usually dominated by greys and browns, this was a pleasant surprise.

Another pleasant surprise was the palm grove in the middle of no-where. The palm trees weren't date palms which are common all over Israel. These palms were planted close together in rigid rows and were tall, straight and had black and brown trunks. Obviously deliberately planted, we couldn't work out to what purpose they were here. Certainly not to sit under on a late summer afternoon, sipping cold ice tea and snacking on chocolate croissants, but for us that was a good enough reason for their existence.

After the short break we continued on, through a cactus maze, and then past scattered abandoned buildings that didn't look 2,500 years old, but far more modern, say pre 1948 Arab in origin. As we passed by a spent wheat field we spotted two women, shepherding four children in some afternoon play time. We arrived to the Mattah spring just as they did. They were from the nearby moshav of Mattah and seemed surprised to see 4 red-faced middle-aged Australians trot past their backyard. I can't imagine why. I would think that it's an everyday occurrence.

Next a short,sharp climb led us to the Hanut ruins. If the Dorban ruins didn't really leave much of an impression, the Hanut ruins did. They were larger and more impressive and included a 6th century Byzantine church that apparently has an original, intact mosaic floor, but we were in too much of a hurry in the failing light to investigate. The Byzantines held that this was the burial spot of Goliath, which has some logic since we would start our walk the following day at Tel Azikah, where the battle between David and Goliath took place. We did notice, however, the large stone steps hewn out of the rocks leading to and away from the site. This was part of the ancient Caesar's Way, from the port of Ashkelon to Jerusalem. The emperor Hadrian marched his army along this route to Jerusalem in 133 AD in order to put down the Bar Kochba rebellion. You just can't escape the sense of history in this area.

The Mattah Forest is a large natural forest in the hills on the outskirts of Jerusalem. The heat of the day had dissipated, the sun was dropping so the light was very soft and I can think of few better ways to spend a July afternoon than walking through this delightful forest. We spent about an hour walking though the forest, wondering how far we were from Yoni's car and whether we'd get there in poor day light or strong moonlight. When, at 8.15, we turned a corner and quite literally bumped into it, dusk was giving way to night. We were thankful that we didn't have to check out what it would be like walking in the light of a full moon.

To date, the weakest link in the overnight shvil chain has been the accommodation. The kibbutz B+B without the B for Breakfast at Galon was fine, but the hovels at Lahav and Har Amasah left much to be desired so the kibbutz Bedouin tent at Netiv Halamed Hai was a major improvement. 65 shekels bought us a beach mat and a mattress inside a large tarpaulin, c'est tu. The showers were spotless with ample hot water, we could store food in the fridge in the kitchenette and the tent was large enough so my three companions could distance themselves from me, thus reducing the affects of my snoring. What more could you want? It really was a lot of fun, in a little-kid-going-camping way.

Yoni had made previous plans for the evening, so he showered quickly and quick smart ditched his walking partners for better company . We were assigned the role of buying food for the next day at the local Bet Shemesh supermarket. Talk about culture shock! Over recent years Bet Shemesh has seen a large influx of ultra-orthodox Hassidic Jews, it being cheap and close to holy Jerusalem. They live in an uneasy co-existance with the Moroccans who have been there since Bet Shemesh's inception and the Russians who came during the immigration wave of the '90s. Supermarkets are the melting pots of local culture and no-where more so than here in the Bet Shemesh Supersol. Black-hatted Haredim and their long suffering wives and 10 children rubbed elbows with traditional, dark skinned Moroccan Jews, pale, gold-toothed Russians and an assortment of under-dressed and over-pierced teenagers. If only I'd had a movie camera…but that's an all together different project. 

It was getting late and we hadn't eaten, so rather than look for the culinary pearl of Bet Shemesh (Yoskel's Gefilte Fishery, perhaps) we decided that Aroma coffee bars are always reliable. They're sort of the McDonalds of Israeli coffee bars.
By 10.30 we were fed, tired and generally happy campers. By 10.35 we were asleep…or at least I was.