2011 - 3rd Journey, Day 3

DAY 20  (May 16, 2011):  Third Journey, Day 3

Ilaniya over Horns of Hattin down through Arbel River Canyon and up to Moshe Arbel

It’s 9:21 as I begin to write.  My body has been brutalized today after about 14 miles of hiking (being interpreted from the kilometers), yet I’m strangely energized.  Had the worst night of sleeplessness on the whole journey and don’t think I even got two consecutive hours of unconsciousness in the whole thing.  Really not sure why, since after a false start I was pretty comfortable, just couldn’t nod off.  So, you’d think I’d be nearly comatose after logging this many miles on poor sleep, but instead I’m buzzing.

The yurt was cold and a breeze was blowing through it which was playing havoc with my newly bald head.  So, I moved the head of the sleeping pad up against the side of a stack of other pads.  Then I propped up some two foot square pillows which were lying around so as to create a couple of bridge abutments.  Sticking the edge of a towel between the pads and draping it over the pillows produced a shield which rested on the covers.  Then, I plugged in my laptop and turned it on.  Standing it up against one of the pillows inside my newly formed yurtling produced a silent heat source which kept me cozy all night.  I know, because I spent most of the night lying awake thinking about how comfortable it was.  Good grief, Charlie Brown!

Here’s what it looked like after I vacated my cozy yurt in a yurt:

And this is what breakfast at 7 on an Israeli Goat farm looks like:

Then, it was down to business.  I’d been up since 5:45 and took to the road just 5 minutes before 8 am.  I knew it would be the longest hike of all and I was genuinely concerned about it.  But the first seven miles were pretty level and the only problem arose when I was forced to spend a mile or more in the weeds when the trail disappeared into the brush.  I could see the Horns of Hattin (no Biblical significance but HUGE in world history – look it up) so there was never any doubt about where to go, I just had to do it “off road” so the end result for both feet looked like this shot of just my right pod as I was changing into a new pair of socks.

Here are the “horns” themselves as one approaches through the fields.

I spent perhaps an entire hour either up on the peaks themselves or on the large plateau just below and on the other side of the peaks from what you can see in the preceding photo.  This plateau was awesome because it had the largest concentration of butterflies I’d yet seen.  Amazing!  I had maybe 15 butterflies at a time whirling around in a white tornado and all close enough to touch.  They are feeding on the abundant flowers at about ankle to knee height and then as soon as you approach they explode into the air and whirl about.  Really cool, but no photos.

However, the view of the Cliffs of Arbel and the Sea of Galilee between them in the distance was equally awesome:

I chose to leave the trail and descend from the Horns on the south side and circle around on the eastern slope and then descend pretty directly to the road below on the north.  This filled my socks with stickers again but was immensely satisfying as I spent perhaps an hour on three sides of the mountain walking through the never plowed but often grazed slopes which had been trodden by cattle, sheep, and goats for millenniums.  There for a while I was one with the herdsmen.  No photos, I was lost in reverie.

At this point I had a choice.  I could turn right and get to the Bed and Breakfast in only two miles on paved roads.  Or, I could turn left and use the trail which ran in a huge circle heading first west then north then east and finally south again for about 5 and a half miles.  I judged my strength carefully because by this time I was right in the vicinity of nine miles on my feet bearing the burden of my water and camera equipment which amounted to maybe 15 pounds at this point.  Scoping out the lay of the land I erroneously thought “Well, it looks like it’s all pretty level and just circles around through several shallow valleys, probably for scenery’s sake.  Let’s go for it!”  This time it never occurred to me that I might consider the elevation lines.

I was really glad I took this trail, but the mistake in my calculations would cost me dearly.  At first I was right.  The scenery WAS beautiful and the road stayed essentially level for the first mile or two as it headed west and I even got a short video clip of a mongoose which never even knew I was only about 25 feet away as he snuffled along a tiny little brook which crossed the trail.  

Mongoose Crossing Jesus Trail near Horns of Hattin 

But I didn’t pay any attention to the fact that the road began steadily descending as it rounded to the north and then lost elevation even more quickly as it turned back to the east.  I had come to the Arbel River valley and was now walking a most delightfully beautiful swale with running water and much overhanging vegetation to please the senses.  I saw two small turtles and imagine there must be a plethora of frogs, although the water seems much too shallow for any but the tiniest of fish.  Regardless of how much I was enjoying this, I was going down, down, down, ever down.

It was there right by the water that I suddenly came on two women dressed in the traditional robes of the Arabs.  I had to make a snap decision and decided NOT to ask if I could take their picture.  They seemed quite uncomfortable at my presence, and confused so that they didn’t know whether they should stand still or keep advancing toward me.  They opted to step off the path and stop but appeared to be so flustered that I decided to set their minds at ease and just march on by within the three feet that the trail allowed and without looking at them any more.  But all the while I was thinking, “Wow, she’s carrying a bag of what might be rice or flour on her head (look ma, no hands) and this would be just the most AMAZING picture here on the banks of the Arbel River with those trees as a background!”  Please don’t hate me, but for their sake I didn’t go for the shot.  However, for just a few seconds, all alone on the Arbel, I was transported back in time by two millenniums. 

Shortly later a man with what must have been a 40 to 50 pound sack on his shoulder and two more in the 10 to 15 pound range in his left hand came trudging along behind them.  I studied the map and these people could not have come less than four miles already with these burdens and I’d seen no place for anybody to live in my journey so there’s just no telling how much farther they had to go as they lived the lives of our forefathers for centuries before us in these hills and river dales of Israel.

After another little while I came to a man exiting an enclosure for horses.  Again, there’s no way to know if he’s connected to these others or where any of them might actually live, but it was so very eerie to be in this time machine here by the river.

It was quite hot down here in this deep valley and I was passing the 12 mile mark on my feet.  So, when I came to the trail junction I was excited to see the Cliffs of Arbel from down here on the ancient Via Maris which Jesus and the apostles must certainly have used. 

Here’s a shot looking up at the Cliffs from alongside the Arbel River (what we'd call a creek in Washington State), just before I started the climb:

I was pretty desperately disconcerted to see that the last mile and a half would be directly up the steepest trail I'd seen yet.  Where oh where is a good elevator when you need one?  Now it was time to pay the piper for my glibly thinking this journey would all be on the level.

I took the packs off, drank some water, ate some pita bread left over from breakfast and leaned on a rock in the shade of a tree to mentally and physically prepare myself for the prodigious task at hand.  Ladies and gentlemen, I was already tired clear down to the marrow of my bones.  I’d be surprised if it was less than 80 degrees so I was drenched in sweat already.  But unless I wanted to backtrack several miles and try to hunt down the indigenous peoples of the valley and prevail upon their hospitality for the night, there was nothing I could do but take on that hill.

So, I shouldered my packs and put one foot in front and above the other.  Oh boy, it was BAD.  No shade was available, the slope was hideous, and my energy level was so low that I really truly suffered.  Now I’ve measured, and if I stretch my normal stride just the tiniest bit I have exactly a 36” step.  But I kid you not, most of the way up this slope it was all I could do to set the heel of my advancing foot at the toe of the retreating.  What’s that?  Ten inches?  Twelve?  In fact, I actually got to the point that I used my hands to lift the front pack away from my chest so I could breathe more easily and oxygenate the blood better.  I’d stop and take a picture about every 100 feet because the elevation change was providing wonderful views of the Arbel cliffs, but I needed those stops to catch my breath a great deal more than I needed those pictures.  And again, it was WONDERFUL!

I spent this time thinking about Jesus in utter exhaustion bearing the cross.  I thought about the hymn, “The Last Mile of the Way” since that was just how far I needed to go.  I thought about a lot of things I might never have connected in quite the same way without this strength sapping ascent.  It was truly difficult for me, but it was also worth it.

Here's a photo I took at one of those rest stops looking down the trail I'd climbed and out through the rift of the Arbel Cliffs to the Sea of Galilee:

This next shot shows the Sea of Galilee and its northwest shore in the vicinity of Magdala through the space between the Arbel Cliffs.

At precisely 5 o’clock, nine hours after I’d started hiking, I wobbled on into the Shavit’s Arbel Bed and Breakfast Inn from which you can prominently see all of the Horns of Hattin and a little bit of the Arbel Cliffs.  At 5:05 I checked in and went to my room.  At 5:10 I tore into my bag like it was a Christmas present and at 5:15 I slowly eased myself down into, you guessed it, A SWIMMING POOL!  For the next 35 minutes I slowly sculled around on my back or lazily swam the breastroke around and around and around that wonderful pool.  Here I thought of Herod the Great in his huge pool at the Herodion, of Caligula in Rome, and of Pharisees and Sadducees in Jerusalem whose ruthlessness and riches gave them the power to snuff out life on a whim. 

Here's a shot of the pool with the Horns of Hattin in the distance:

Brethren and friends, there’s just no way to immerse yourself in the Bible stories like walking the very trails upon which Jesus set his sandals.

Shalom and good night