3rd day (Family Day)

Over the past few years I've gotten used to the trio of Gary, Yoni and Paul sort of rolling off the tongue in regards to walks. Rolling Paul, Susan, Gal, Yoav, Aviv, Gary, Danielle, Yoni, Yael, Anton, Lisa, Adam and Mocha the Dog off the tongue is a bit more of a mouthful. But there we all were, on this crisp spring morning, in the car park at the entrance to the Nachal Dishon Nature Reserve, eager to set off on our shortish hike down the creek. By my estimation, which is nearly always wrong, the 6 or so kilometres should take us a couple of hours, not including stops. For once I wasn't TOO wrong.
We'd been walking a scant 5 minutes when finally IT happened. After one and a half legs spread over about 10 hours of walking we finally found other shvillers. We were starting to suspect that the rest of the shvill yisrael community hid, took a sicky or generally went missing when the word was out that we were on the trail. But no, here were three young lasses doing all 960 km in one go. If I was 25 years younger with less responsibilities and more physical prowess then I would love to do it in one stretch, 2 or 3 months on the shvill. Actually, who am I kidding? I don't think I would ever have coped with 3 months in a tent, surviving on battle rations and brackish water. All the same, good on those that do do it that way. As for me/us , I'm very happy to be doing it the way we're doing it, one leg' or even half a leg at a time. Of course we have just started and have a few years and a lot of hard km ahead.
As already said, up to this point we hadn't seen any other walkers and very few humans. This stretch of the shvil is known to be very busy. The upper dishon is one of the most visited paths in the north. Besides its beauty the path is broad and on a very gentle incline/decline, so it makes easy walking, biking, motocrossing, jeeping, ATV-ing. If I'd previously labelled shvil yisrael as the cvish 6 (main highway) of Israel, so here was proof. I don't think 10 minutes passed at any point of our walk that we didn't see some expression of human movement. Undoubtedly and unfortunately pedestrian movement was the least common.
You know how sometimes you go past a tree and there's almost a neon sign on it saying "come sit under my leafy branches"? And how the earth around it is positioned just right so you can sit down comfortably? And its breadth is just right to hold under it 12 people and a dog? Well after about an hour's walking we saw such a tree, whose beckoning we could not resist. The perfect place for a coffee break. or tea break. Gary took the thermos out of his backpack and started pouring herbal tea. Those that like herbal tea said it was good. Who am I to argue? I took out the finjan and gazia and started to boil water to make kaffe shachor. Only problem was that the gas was running out and the replacement cylinder I'd shlepped wasn't the right type. It looked like that all the paraphernalia that I had in my backpack was just that, paraphernalia. I wasn't, however, going to pass up on my coffee so easily. The kids brought me twigs for kindling, and in no time I had a little fire going. The water boiled, (at least the second time. The first time Mocha the genius wonder dog kicked over the finjan chasing an imaginary bird) the coffee cooked and those that prefer cooked black coffee over herbal tea got what they'd been waiting for.
In keeping with the relaxed nature of the day, we sat for a long time under the said tree, but in the end we dragged ourselves up and continued on our way.
Every city has its home-grown local versions of hoons that burn rubber up and down the street as an expression of their masculinity. In the middle of the Dishon stream we weren't exempted from a sort of local, weird hoon. No-one really drove up or down the track too quickly or dangerously but we couldn't help noticing one particular group of 4-wheeled buggy riders. Each one had a different colored buggy and was attired in the corresponding Power Rangers uniforms. I kid you not. Full dress uniform. Helmets, protective armour, the works. Since Power Rangers are the good guys, they didn't drive recklessly. But they sure did look weird.
In some way the many groups of 4*4s that we saw were almost as ridiculous as the Power Ranger ATV-ers. This wasn't a hard walk by any means. Yoni's 9 year old Yael did it in a breeze. It seems, dunno, a contradiction to "get out into nature" by taking a car trip up a creek bed.
The top end of the creek was dry already after winter's end, but as we progressed it started to trickle which gradually become a very low, slow flow (sorry for the rhyme). The stream was not so slow that it wasn't inviting for anyone under 45, so as the stream gradually grew in strength the kids with dog in tow (lead?) all decided it was more fun walking in the stream than next to it. Don't misunderstand me here. The stream was at no point any more than very gentle, a far cry from the torrent that we crossed a month and a half earlier further downstream.
And so we continued. The kids splashing in the stream and the adults enjoying the last of the spring flowers, the views, the perfect weather and most of all, the company.
No shvil walk is complete without the meal at the end. Its part of the walk, remember? We'd arranged to bring picnic lunches which we left in the car that we'd left at the end. We found a grassy patch, opened up our hampers and completed the days activities in the most fitting way.