13th Day (Just Shvil)

A small announcement. We've been on the shvil now for a year. We started at Dan on a beautiful late winter's day mid February 2009 and here we are, a year on, parking the car at the edge of the gush alonim (No, not gush emunim, that's altogether different and not part of the route) forest.

As usual, we didn't really agree about where to park. There was a perfectly good spot at the entrance to the forest but democracy being what it is we drove an extra kilometre along a dirt track because some of my fellow walkers think "why walk when you can drive"? This democracy thing is getting to be even less in my favour now that Tracey is a regular guest. Speaking of the walking\driving debate, this is 1 of 2 constants that we have adhered to in the year on the trail.

1-      Avoid walking on road. With one exception (day three which had us do a long road walk  with a net uphill gradient) we drive to the point where the road ends and the path starts.

2-      Why walk uphill when you can do the same route downhill?  With one exception (day three which had us do a long road walk with a net  uphill gradient) we've changed the direction of the walk depending on the hills and will continue to do so in the future.

As we got out of the car and started walking we immediately saw what we'd expected to see today. Wildflowers, wildflowers and more wildflowers. Mostly white and pink rakafot (cyclamen) and red kalaniot (anemone). Here and there the cedar and oak forest was dotted with yellow wild mustard and white wild garlic. I wouldn't claim that we're knowledgeable in the field of botany nor are we especially flower-mad like many Israelis this time of year, but you just couldn't remain indifferent to the sight. So we found ourselves walking through this for the first part of the leg. Not a bad start.

We continued through the forest for a while, came out of the forest, walked past small fields of wheat or olive groves and got to the Bedouin village of Ka'abyah, which was indistinguishable from other villages we've been through. Up some hills, down some hills, a bit of puffing and panting but this too was indistinguishable from the puffing and panting we've done in previous walks. Actually today's walk was not that dissimilar to the previous walk, which is no surprise since it's the same geographical region of the country. 
Once we came out of the gush alonim forest most of the walk was in the open. And in this open area we had close view of one settlement or another the whole time. More Arab villages and more Jewish kibbutzim or community settlements than in the deep north. The Jewish settlements of Harduf or Nofit, Arab villages of Ka'abyah, Tabash or Hajajarah. The first few walks went through areas that were sparsely populated but we've noticed that as we get further south there is more evidence of human activity.
 Eventually we got to the Yavke spring (Not convinced that my transliteration is entirely accurate) which was more or less the halfway point. It's a pretty little spring, a Byzantine concrete rectangle, full of water that looks clean enough but given the amount of cattle and Bedouin villages that aren't connected to a proper sewerage system in the area, I was glad that the weather wasn't hot enough to tempt us to have a dip.

Today's leg was differentiated from previous ones by the fact that is was almost entirely marked  with just the white, blue and orange Shvil Yisrael markings. Most of the paths that we've walked on have a regular red\white, blue\white or black\white marking and thus the route of the shvil overlaps an existing trail. Here and there we had trails that were exclusive to the Shvil Yisrael route.

These exclusive shvil trails would link or cross between existing trails. Today, however, almost the entire route was just a Shvil Yisrael route.That means that Mr.shvil painter had to be on his best behaviour. He couldn't rely on the fact that if he was a bit slack with his markings it didn't matter too much because the trail was going to be  marked anyway with another colour marking. By and large he earned his wage today, but he wasn't perfect. Barely 30 metres would pass before we'd worriedly start to look for the next marking and there were a few times when we had to backtrack a little or stop until we found the way. This was compounded by the fact that today's route had quite a few sections where there simply wasn't a path. There were stretches where every 50 metres or so there would be a marking on a tree, rock or post and we'd advance that way. It was actually quite a lot of fun, mostly. It seemed that we took it in turns finding the markings, with the exception of Yoni who must have left his glasses at home since he consistently missed them. There was one point, however, where he saved us from getting what could have been quite lost had he not spotted the sign that had us leave what appeared to be the logical route and take a sudden and unexpected left hand turn. Tracey was our chief sign-spotter today, but this made amends for last time when at the start she waited for us at the entrance to Mashad, ringing us saying that she couldn't find the shvil marking painted on a street sign in the entrance to the village. When we got there she was sitting beneath the very sign that she couldn't find.
After leaving the spring we followed  Nachal Tzippori, knowing that this wasn't the exact route that the shvil planners would have us follow. We knew that the true path was a little higher and it would eventually drop down to the valley so there was not really any chance of getting lost.
It really was very pretty. Not the majestic awe inspiring beauty of the Himalayas, Rockys or Andes. Not even the magnificent views from our own hill, Mt Meron. But you don't always need that knock-out, take-your-breath-away beauty. This small, shallow, green valley, with a swift flowing creek running down the middle, on a warm winter's day, was not taken for granted. Appreciating this idyll is exclusively for the winter and spring however. In summer this would be a dry, brown, open, hazy, dustbowl and if I'd been walking it I doubt if I would wax so lyrical.

After a while we got to an old stone building called the nun's mill.  Obviously in the past it was a water powered mill that was run by nuns. It is still owned by the Vatican and this mill in the valley was the closest thing to Tuscany outside of Tuscany that you could imagine.

Today it is let to private holders who run it as a function hall. Here in the middle of no-where. A more perfect, picturesque setting for a function would be hard to find.
For us the Nachal Tzippori valley was a discovery, but for most of the other 7 million people living in Israel it apparently wasn't. Or so it seemed. This portion of the walk seemed to be the Dizengof of the lower galilee. Other walkers (not shvillers), day-trippers, 4*4s, 2*4s,

motorbikes, bicycles, motorized ATV buggies.Gary correctly spotted the Jewish bike riders as opposed to the Arab ones by the helmets on their little Jewish heads.
 We've gotten used to walking in nature with just ourselves for company. Occasionally we cross another walker and exchange pleasantries and small talk. Here we were forced to share our nature with LOTS  of other people and we weren't real happy about it, snobs that we are. In particular there was this one old fella out on a stroll. Being the power walkers that we are we overtook him. As we passed him we exchanged the usual pleasantries. He seemed to take this as a sign that we wanted to engage in conversation, which we didn't. So at first we were 10 metres in front of him and he tried to talk to us about his family. As we got 20 metres in front of him he continued talking to us about the state of the nation. We were 30 metres ahead of him and it was his wife. We were now 40 metres in front of him and he had to raise his voice a little so we could hear him talk about the weather. As the gap stretched out to 50 metres we could still vaguely hear him but I can't tell you  what he was saying or to whom.This was mildly amusing, especially compared to this Israeli women who was sitting by the banks of the creek while we were sitting under a tree having Garry's herbal tea and our shvil sandwiches. She must have overhead us speaking in English so she decided to start up a conversation in English. As I have already stated, we are snobs, or at least like our nature to ourselves. Small talk here and there, well, ok if we must, but not with obnoxious Israelis that want to show off their pigeon English or patronise us because they think we can't speak Hebrew, even if we answer in fluent Hebrew.

After a few kilometres the path took us off the busy track and into the bush. At first there was no path at all, just signs painted on whatever the shvil painter could find to paint on. Eventually it did turn into a path of sorts and this continued on for a bit, up a slight incline in a small valley under the settlement of Nofit. As we walked further up the valley the path became less distinct and the signs harder to spot until we found ourselves walking through a field of prickles. It was very pretty and very weird. Pretty because we were surrounded by bright green with lots of high yellow flowers. Weird because this green was high prickly weeds which we couldn't avoid. There was no path, or at least the path was so overgrown by winter growth that it was as good as non-existent. And you can forget about shvil markings.

On the assumption that they did exist they too were were hidden by these prickly weeds. It was a bit disconcerting. We didn't feel lost and indeed we weren't, the valley being the obvious route, but the fact was that we  felt a little insecure about not having the re-assuring shvil signs every 50 metres. This was compounded by the unexpected heat, our fatigue and the knowledge that we were getting close to the end but didn't know how close. Still, eventually the weeds gave way to meadows and a path. And to the sound of cars travelling on a road not far up ahead.
Whilst we were crossing the final meadow before we got to the car we walked passed a scene worthy of a Monet painting. A young couple with a child sitting in the sun surrounded by red and yellow spring flowers.

I almost looked around trying to spy the French Impressionist with the beret on his head and easel and paints in tow .We also saw the first shvillers  for quite a number of walks. They had all the tell-tale signs of shvillers. A three-some (why shvillers always walk in groups of three is, in my opinion,a study worthy of funding by one of our universities). At least one of the three-some with dreadlocks. Rucksacks at least equal to the weight of the girl in the group. These shvillers however lacked one important feature of most other shvillers we'd met. The serious "we're on a mission" attitude that shvillers always seem to have (In truth, 960 km in 3 months is a real mission). These shvillers were happily lounging in the sun at 11 o'clock in the morning, resting on their rucksacks as if the day's walk was over. Given the perfect conditions I certainly couldn't blame them.

Lunch today was well earned. If your local, generic Arab hummus joint we call Abu Abu, then Samir Amis in the outskirts if Tivon  we might call Abu Jew. An Arab restaurant that seems sanitised enough so you average Jew won't feel threatened and whose principal client base is indeed the Jewish population in the surrounding area. An Arab restaurant for the Jews. The mix between the Jewish clientele and Arab cuisine has even led them to some strange dishes, like majadara made of quinoa and lentils. Still, we were so hot, hungry and thirsty that we finished it off along with everything else they placed in front of us.
And in the end, a surprise. It had to happen eventually. This is after all shvil YISRAEL, i.e. Israel. We always park a car at the beginning and at the end, often in the middle of no-where. In Israel, if you leave a car in a secluded spot often or long enough it will at some point get broken into. So I'm philosophical about my van being broken into. No damage, just the radio-disk stolen and I put it down as part of the shvil yisrael experience.