53rd day (The Real Deal)

If we were to compare shvil yisrael to astronomy, then it resembles one of the star constellations - a series of straight lines joining up in a pattern. Our shvil yisrael, however, would resemble the big bang, a random collection of parts being thrown apart. Since we've hit the Negev, there have barely been 3 segments that we've walked in sequence. The principle reason for the higgledy-piggledy manner in our progress towards Eilat has been the difficult logistics. If you tried to pencil our journey on a map, you would end up with a lot of scribble on your page.

And so day 2 had us starting 60 km north of where we finished the previous day, 40 shvil kilometres north of where we were 2 years ago and exactly where we got washed out 12 months ago. Just a reminder. We're walking in a southerly direction.

It would be somewhat of an understatement to say that Yoni and I were facing the day with some trepidation. Garry is fitter today than he was when we were at school, regular running 10 km "fun" runs. Mark spends hours on the treadmill in between reading the morning papers and Irwin's dog takes him for long daily walks. Yoni walks occasionally around his home territory and I unsuccessfully try to convince myself that walking 500 metres to pick up the mail constitutes exercise. Yesterday was a nice stroll that we got through quite easily. Today was the real deal. Starting with Mt Yahav.  I have to give Yoni credit for thinking ahead.  As we stopped for coffee en route yesterday, he pocketed a handful of salt sachets, in anticipation of the inevitable cramps we would endure on this hard day.

The weather forecast predicted sand storms developing in the area and Itzik, our desert 4*4 desert taxi driver, was a little concerned for our wellbeing. So were we. He drove us the few km past Gev Holit to the base of mount Yahav and made us promise to ring him if and when we got out.

Mt. Yahav may not be the Matterhorn, but from where we stood at its base, it looked pretty damned scary. Sometimes, once you start climbing, it turns out to be not quite as bad as you expected. Well here's the point. This wasn't one of those times. From the base I gulped in fear as I saw what we were about to climb. And then I gulped for air as I climbed, one slow foot after the other. As we reached the top, and looked over the view both beneath us and in the distance, it almost made the climb worthwhile. Seriously, there is no doubt at all that the views were worth the climb. As much as I might complain about the exertion, if I had to choose between the easy day and the "nice" views or the hard day with amazing views, it's a no brainer.

 

 To use another cliché, what goes up must come down. And so it is with the shvil. After panting our way to the top of Mt. Yahav, we had a few hundred metres of breathtaking (literally) walking along a ridge with stunning views, each direction, different. The descent down the mountain continued with beautiful views ahead of us.

We were walking now in Nachal Tzvira. This creek must get relatively, for desert, a lot of rain, since there were many acacia trees. Sometimes we'd pass a large single tree in the middle of the wadi. Alternately there were bunches of trees in a compact area. Not quite a forest, but here in the desert you have to be thankful for whatever shade you can get. Besides the large quantity of trees, we saw large white chafe marks along the ground and running over a ledge. These swathes of scraping are caused by flash floods dragging rocks and other debris along the river bed. Every area we walk through seems to have slightly different water markings.

As so often on these shvil days, the walking was pleasant, the company good and if not for all the talk about the upcoming elections, we could have almost forgotten that there was a whole world outside these few kilometres of dry valleys. We grew up as good, young socialists in the youth movement in Melbourne and have stayed, more or less, on the general left wing side of the political map, though perhaps today with a little less of the socialist fervor than in our youth.  Except for one of us, who Garry feared had been overcome by Stockholm Syndrome, taking the views of his superiors. Go figure.

 We knew we had one more good climb for the day and not long after passing the Nachal Tzvira camp ground, the path departed the wide valley and climbed up a narrow crack in the side of the mountain. This may not have been as steep or as long as our little Mt Yahav jaunt, but my legs were 10 km older. Yoni was also starting to feel his legs and cramps threatened to make his walking even more difficult. He took two sachets of the salt that he'd filched the previous day from his pocket, poured them down his throat, drank some water to take the taste out of his mouth and voila, no cramps. He whizzed up this un-named mountain like a true athlete. Well, not quite. The whizzing up the mountain was left to Garry, Mark and Irwin.

Other than his desire to torture us once again, Mr Shvil painter led us up this path in order to take us to the Tzvira heights geological formations. These took the form of a series of deep slits in the ground, sort of like dried and cracked mud, but over the area the size of a football field with cracks that go metres deep. We were quite high up and this phenomenon occurred close to the edge of a cliff, so I can only imagine that its cause has something to do with water running over the cliff. There was a piece of flat rock, about a metre wide, that jutted out of the cliff. The view from this protrusion was stunning and I wanted to see if I could walk along it to experience this amazing view. I guess I'm glad to say that the innate human trait of fear as an aid to self-preservation kicked in. Other than spiders, I don't have any fears. Not claustrophobia, not fear of flying, not strangers and generally not fear of heights. As I neared the start of this outcrop and saw the 300 metres sheer drop in front of me, my stomach knotted, my heart pounded and I felt physically ill. I had no intention of reaching the end of the 20 metres long stone plank above the abyss anyway, but  my subconscious survival mechanism obviously had kicked in, telling my body to give my tiny conscious brain a warning. I have never in my life felt such pure fear and I hadn't even started to put myself in harm's way. Once I'd gotten my breath back I viewed the panorama in front of me from a safe couple metres from the edge.

I was the only one even vaguely interested in this geological site and its rocky outcrop. The others continued on, discussing the merits of Kahlon's housing policy and whether Boozzy Herzog has what it takes to be PM. We also started to discuss the end of the shvil. Having completed this leg and the shorter leg on the previous day, we have about 80 km to go. Nothing. We found ourselves planning the next projects; Shvil Hamayanot in the Beit She'an valley and Shvil Golan, through the Golan Heights. But first, we have to get to Eilat and that is proving to be taking a very long time.

By the time I caught up with them we'd started the long steep descent down the other side of the Tzvira plateau and into Nachal Ashbourne which in turn leads to Nachal Karkeset. The walking inside these dry creek beds was not difficult but quite varied. Sometimes the valley was broad with high cliffs abound and at other times we would find ourselves traversing a narrower channel with less grand but equally as interesting views. We also sighted an exceptionally rare animal, thought extinct. The through shviller. This was our first sighting for a long long time. They were an American couple, looking young, fit and enthusiastic for the journey ahead. They started in Eilat, 150 shvil kms to the south, so they have a long way to go. We wished them godspeed.

As we descended from the Tzvira heights plateau and the geological cracks, the weather started to change. What had started as pleasantly warm and sunny with some cloud coming and going, turned hazy and windy. The haze was caused by sand being whipped up and carried by the wind. By the time we had crossed Nachal Ashbourne into Nachal Karkeset, there was a lot of sand flying around. The forecast sand storm was blowing in. And it wasn't pleasant. Mostly the wind was behind us, which made the walking easier and the sand less obtrusive. Occasionally the path or the wind would change direction and we were stung by sand from the side or head on. It got into every hole in our body. Luckily, we'd done 5 hours of walking in perfect conditions and only during the last 45 minutes did we have to face these conditions. If it had started earlier, thus forcing us to walk through the sand storm for a longer period, I wouldn't have described the day in such a positive way. Instead, I can put it down to one of those experiences that you have on the shvil, amongst the thousands of others. In fact, given that we didn't have to deal with it for too long, I'd venture to say that I'm sort of glad we had it.

We arrived back to the car at Sapir just in time. As we drove north the conditions quite quickly worsened, with more haze and stronger winds. For once, God had smiled on us. I'm not sure the young couple we'd met a few hours earlier were smiling back at God.

Reflecting back, today's walk had everything the desert could offer. Wide valleys and narrow valleys, spectacular views in all directions, rock climbing, steep drops, acacia forests, and a sand storm to finish it off. It was the real deal.