I have long admired how Israelis love getting out into nature. During
the spring or autumn holiday periods, on any single day, more than a million
people can be found in Israel's numerous national parks. That's out of a
population of 8 million. Shvil Yisrael's existence and popularity is further
evidence. (not that we actually ever see any through shvillers on our journeys.)
I'm convinced that one of the reasons
for this love of the Israeli outdoors is the mandated tiyul shnattie,
annual school field trips that every pupil in the country goes on, starting from
3rd grade. By high school, these yearly excursions take the children
into the wild for 3-5 days, where they will cover some pretty difficult but
very beautiful terrain. And so, as we
fell out of Salvador's taxi at 6.30 in the middle of no-where, we were
confronted by two large buses and a group of 70 high school pupils, gathered
around getting last minute instructions. Yep. This is Israel.
I may be full of poetic admiration for one of the few things that the
Israeli education system gets right, but we had no intention of getting stuck
behind this gaggle of loud Israeli youth. We started the climb up the first of
today's many hills, before the Ramat Gan 3rd district high school
broke from its huddle.
This hastily started climb was the ascent of Mt Saharonim. We've climbed
steeper mountains over our time on the shvil, but it's still a pretty rude way
to start your day, puffing and panting so early in the morning. (no risqué
comments, please). I always like to see a point of reference below get smaller
as I climb. By the time we got to the pinnacle, the 2 buses below in the valley
looked like tiny ants. I look down at what I have just climbed with some
satisfaction, thinking "wow, look how far I've climbed in such a short
time". And then my gaze leaves the buses and roams up the entire valley
beneath us and my self-congratulation turns to awe. Wow. From here we can see
the entire Ramon crater beneath us, a mirror image of the amazing view you get
from Mitzpeh Ramon. The first of many stunning views of the day.
We continued along the ridge at the top of Mt Saharonim for a bit, until
we started to drop down in to the Nekarot stream valley. The walking was not
too difficult, the company good and the weather perfect. There had been reports
of the possibility of rain and flash floods in the southern valleys, but it was
cool with light high clouds. Not a raincloud in sight.
We may not have seen any other walkers in the area, but we did meet some
locals. Not Bedouins, but Ibexes, standing around on some rocks next to the
path. Very nice. They were far less excited about the chance meeting than we
were. The ibexes didn't seem scared of us at all and stood on their rocks
oblivious of our existence. For our part, we lined up like Japanese tourists at
the Mona Lisa, snapping away with our smartphones.
Like everything so far today, the Nekarot stream is very pretty. The big
attraction here is the Nekarot Horseshoe, a deep smooth-sided bend in the
stream. The riverbed itself is strewn with enormous boulders, thrown randomly
around like kids' toys over the floor of their bedroom. After 20 minutes of
walking through this, the creekbed narrowed into a winding bottleneck, no more
than a couple of metres wide with the walls scrubbed white from the yearly
floods. We'd barely been walking 2 hours
and had already seen a larger variety of landscape than we get in an average
day on the shvil. And we hadn't even gotten to the day's main attraction, the carbolet
charirim. Carbolet is Hebrew for cock's comb, which is thin and jagged.
There is this, the carbolet charirim on the edge of the ramon crater, which may
be a path on the top of a high narrow ridge, but it isn't too difficult to
negotiate. Then there's THE Carbolet, on the edge of the machtesh hagadol, (the
large crater) which is the hardest section of shvil yisrael. There, it's razor
thin with numerous hills and gullies and sheer drops off the path. Don't bother trying to look for it in past
blog posts. You won't find it. We have elegantly dodged it, it deemed too
difficult for one of our intrepid party.
The climb up from the Nekarot streambed to the carbolet charirim ridge started
easily enough, gradually steepening until the last section was a vertical
scramble up to the pinnacle. As we struggled to the top we'd half noticed that
the view looked pretty good. There's an understatement if ever there was
one. Now that we'd stopped for a water break after reaching the top, we could
see that the view was breathtaking. We had a broad desert valley directly beneath
us to the left (north). This birds-eye view was to accompany us for the next
hour or so as the path followed the top of the ridge. Narrow mountain-top
ridges tend to have two sides, and the path sometimes changed to its other, southern side.
Here we had a different, equally as stunning view of other desert valleys, over
to the Afro-Syrian rift valley and the Red Mountains of Moab in Jordan making
our horizon. We were 300 metres up, on a path that switches from one
breath-taking view to the other, sort of like flicking between National
Geographic and Discovery Channels, only in real life. Have I ever mentioned,
"it doesn't get any better than this"?
Eventually the path dropped down into Nachal Ma'uk. Without wishing to
sound blasé, we were happy to have some "boring", plain old desert
valley walking. Mind you, this was still far more interesting than, say, Nachal
Faran that we walked through last time we were in the area. At some point, I
saw Yoni struggling a little. As friends do, I asked him what the matter was.
Through a tight faced grimace, he complained that his left thigh was starting
to cramp. Friends are not meant to laugh when they hear of such strife, but I
did. It was sort of an embarrassed laugh. I had also started to cramp in
my left thigh muscle. I don't know if it’s a coincidence or the walking was
such that the left thigh muscle was the one that had been forced to work
hardest. What is certain, Yoni and I are at similar level of non-fitness and
Garry, who runs regularly, and Bob and Sharon who looks as good as they did
when they left Mt Scopus, 30+ years ago, had strolled through everything that
today's route had so far offered. Whatever. We'd been on the trail almost 5
hours and had really enjoying it so far. With cramps in mind, we decided to
stop and eat our lunch. Yoni and I figured that processed cold-meats, tinned
tuna and tomatoes would replace the salts that our left thigh muscles so
craved.
As we sat and relaxed, Garry and I noticed the light white clouds that
had accompanied us most of the day were starting to be replaced by their lower,
darker and heavier cousins. We exchanged worried looks but knew that there was
absolutely nothing we could do about it. Our only wish was that if the weather was going
to get nasty, that it should do so before we arrived at the campsite where we
were staying the night. Getting drenched whille walking is far better than getting drenched overnight . Soon enough we
would get our wish.
The processed meat, other assorted goodies and a good rest did the
trick. After lunch we crawled, crampless, up a short but sheer vertical climb
and continued along a nice easy section. The clouds continued to gather. Still,
it rains in the desert only 5 days a year. What were the chances of getting
serious rain? The answer was "very high". Less than half an hour
after we'd resumed our walk, light rain started to fall. "It won't
last" we said to one another. "This is the desert". Were our
perfectly laid and executed plans about to unravel? Bob and Sharon had to meet
our jeep man so he could take them out, in order for them to catch the bus to Tel Aviv. Was the rain going to affect that? We weren't too far
from the end and couldn't influence the weather. All we could do was raise the
easy walking pace that had been the norm so far to a quicker walk, to avoid the
chance of being stuck, or worse, in flash floods. This, however, was easier
said than done. The last part of the day's walk threw up yet another variation in topography.
We had been walking for most of the day at altitudes that ranged between 300
and 600 metres above sea level. The Gev Holit campground, where we'd planned to
stay overnight, is at 12 metres above sea level. The way down is not via a
gentle stroll along pastoral meadows. No sir, it's straight down the Gled waterfall and
cliff-face. Like everything else today, breathtakingly beautiful. The descent
can be more or less divided into 3. The first part is pretty rough, dropping
down between boulders, often on our bums. After completing 16 km and with legs
that weren't quite as supple as they were 6 hours, let alone 30 years ago, grace
and shvil chic are the last things on our minds.
As this steep section petered out to a nice, gentle, easy slope, I
thought we were only 5 minutes from the end. I promised Bob, who was starting
to look a little ragged, that we'd done the hard stuff. I was forced to
apologize and hope that he wasn't inclined to use his expertise as a lawyer
against those who innocently can't keep to their promises. The third part of
the descent was by far the steepest and most difficult to pass, especially over
wet and very slippery rocks.
The rain had now progressed from a light drizzle to steady downpour. At
first, light puddles formed on the ground. These puddles burst into rivulets
that joined to form small streams. We were witnessing the formation of flash
floods. Fascinating. As we descended the Gled cliff face, these streams came
together and burst out of the cliff, forming spontaneous waterfalls. The cliff
face is a couple of hundred metres wide and had four or five jets of water
sprouting from the top. To see this sight, up close and personal, is something
that I will always remember, and is certainly one of the highlights of our time
on shvil yisrael. The path, being so steep, didn't allow us to see where we
were heading for any more than 5 metres ahead. At one point it looked as if the
path was taking us through one of the water falls. Fortunately, it changed
direction and we got no closer than about 30 metres to the waterfall. Believe
me, that's close enough.
Eventually, the path did get to the bottom, and so did we, wet but safe.
I can't speak for the others, and I'm not so sure they even agree, but I
found walking in the cold rain quite exhilarating. I really enjoyed it. Maybe it's
the little boy in me.
 |
| excuse the water drop on my lense- gives a certain camera veritae look to it |
There was, of course, a major down-side to this deluge. We'd planned
this two day section meticulously and it all added up to naught. We were soaked
and there was no chance that we could camp out. Instead, we would drive home
and spend New Year's Eve on the road. Man plans and God laughs. Then again, in
some way, we still had the last laugh. We'd managed to do a leg of shvil
yisrael that was as beautiful and as varied as we'd done to date. It had
everything that the shvil has to offer; it was the complete package. True, we
didn't sleep out and wouldn't be walking the next day, as planned. Instead, we
were privileged to witness a rare and powerful force of nature, from as close
as is safely possible. Ultimately, given the choice, I know which one I would
have taken.
The Gev Holit campground was sufficiently high to protect us from the
rising Gled stream. We had no cell phone range, so we couldn't ring Itsik, our
jeep man, to tell him that we'd arrived an hour and a half early. All that was
left was to wait for him to come and get us. I walked down the campsite towards
the confluence of Nachal Gled and Nachal Nekrot in order to see if perhaps
there was cell phone range. Suddenly I saw a white 4*4 van trying to ford the
rushing stream. I waved liked a lunatic,
sure that it was Itsik or his son coming to fetch us. But no. It was Tsachi and
his wife Michal. Tsachi was taking Michal to watch floods as a birthday treat.
I'm not sure that this was the birthday treat that Michal always dreamed of, but
who knows? In America there are tornado
followers, in Israel, flood followers. After seeing it up close, I could
suddenly understand their fascination with this exhibition of nature's power.
This being the meeting point of 2 flooding streams, the current was quite fast,
but not so fast that he couldn't cross. I was of course surprised to see anyone
out here in the rain, but I think Tzachi was way ahead of me in the surprise
stakes, seeing a lone, drenched, fat, middle aged Australian in the middle of a
flash flood, waving like a lunatic. Surreal doesn't even get close to
describing the scene. When I called the other 4 over, surprise gave way to
astonishment.
We had a slight dilemma here. We knew that Itsik was coming to get us
but had no way to communicate with him. We were cold and wet and didn't feel
too inclined to stick around. The longer it rained, the more swollen the
streams would become, so if we waited too long, there was a very real risk that
no-one would be able to get in. Then we would be really stuffed. Tsachi assured
us that there was only one way of getting to this point, so we would certainly
meet him along the way. Next problem was how were we going to fit 5 sodden
people into the 3 seat back of a work utility? There is no answer. We just did
it. Tsachi took a baby seat and some baby toys, yesterday's newspaper, his toolkit
and other assorted stuff off the seat, placed it all into the van section at
the back of the vehicle and in we rolled. Not for the first time I felt like a
little kid and not a 54 year old father of 4.
I knew I liked Tsachi from the outset. When he politely asked what we do, we gave him the roll-call. One a lawyer, another a world renowned doctor.One of us is a manufacturer of tools, another a business consultant and the last a chef and culinary entrepreneur. And which one did he see as the most important or interesting? The chef!! Indeed, a clever man who's priorities are in the right place!
I knew I liked Tsachi from the outset. When he politely asked what we do, we gave him the roll-call. One a lawyer, another a world renowned doctor.One of us is a manufacturer of tools, another a business consultant and the last a chef and culinary entrepreneur. And which one did he see as the most important or interesting? The chef!! Indeed, a clever man who's priorities are in the right place!
Now I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I really do appreciate
Tsachi's willingness to help us out by sardining us into his ute (and who am I to criticize one with such astute taste?). However,
driving like a rally cross driver over rivers, mud, bumps and dips was great
fun for him, but had the spinal care unit of Be'er Sheva hospital on full alert, waiting for incomings. Eventually we
crossed Amotz, Itzik's driver, and disembarked from Tsachi's ute. We were a
little embarrassed when we saw the mud that we left in his car, but he took it
in his cool good-natured manner. And now, for once, God was interfering with our plans
in a good way. Tsachi is from Be'er Sheva. Bob and Sharon had to get to Tel
Aviv. The plan was for them to catch a bus at 5 to Be'er Sheva and then an
onward train to Tel Aviv. Tsach was quite happy to drop them in Be'er Sheva,
almost 4 hours ahead of what they had originally planned. We
farewelled our guest shvillers here in the mud and continued on with Amotz to
Yoni's car that we'd parked a little over 24 hours earlier at Sapir. Only 24
hours? It seemed liked we'd packed a week's worth of activities in this short
time.
It's funny how quickly you stiffen up after finishing the walking. By
the time we'd gotten to the closest Aroma coffee shop, about an hour and a
half's drive from where we'd picked up Yoni's car, we could barely move. In
fact, I'm not sure what the servers at the Aroma thought when 3 decrepit old
men, dirty, wet and walking in a very hunched and unnatural manner, asked to be
served coffee. To make matters worse,
Garry and I were barefoot, our shoes being far too muddy to be allowed into
Yoni's Prius, our socks too wet to wear.
When we'd finished our coffee, Garry's car, which we'd picked up on the
way back from Mitzpeh Ramon, decided to act decrepit as well and refused to
start. So as a final act of unplanned activity, we had to run around (still
barefoot) in the car park of the Aroma, begging people to help jump-start the
car.
I could hear God laughing all the
way home.
