The Israel National Trail (Day 1)

The Israel National Trail runs from Dan (far north) to Eilat (far south) and winds east and west along the way, giving its hikers a unique and thorough view of the myriad of settings all crammed into this country that covers about the same amount of land as New Jersey. As the crow flies, from Dan to Eilat is about 470 kilometers (290 miles), but the INT—or שביל ישראל( “Shvil Israel”) runs almost 1000 kilometers, snaking its way through forests, deserts, cities, ruins, and beaches. Many Israeli’s thru-hike it in the fall or spring, taking about about a month and a half. I have decided to piece-hike as much of it as I can while I’m here, on weekends and holidays, and a few weekends ago I began the first section.

I heard about this trail several months ago and immediately wanted to learn more…between the internet, my campus connections, and being, you know, in the same country as it and lots of hikers, I thought this would be an easy task. And it would be. If I were more literate in Hebrew. What I’ve found is that there is very little information in English online. One website I found was by far the most informative, and they’ve made a great little video about the trail, showing bits of the Negev they hiked through:

http://israelnationaltrail.com/Default.aspx

I did get quite a lot of information from this site, and from asking around, but still…I could not find information about little details like, you know, where the trail starts. I looked everywhere for it, to no avail. Finally I just decided to get as close as I could, and then do my best in Hebrew to ask around, hoping someone would point me in the right direction, and that it wouldn’t end up costing my week’s grocery money to get there!

I’ve been spreading the word about wanting to piece hike the trail and many of my classmates have expressed excitement to join me. On the first section, only one person’s schedule permitted him to join, and we had a great time! We planned to leave on the first bus out of Haifa at 6am, but both of us missed our buses from our respective houses (he was coming from Haifa University, and I from Mercaz Carmel), so we didn’t end up meeting up at Mercaz Mifratz until a bit later, and then had to wait there for quite some time for the next bus to Kiryat Shmona. (All this information is available on the Egged Bus website for any of you wanting to repeat our journey on your own.) Eventually our 500 bus came, we loaded up, bought our tickets and looked over maps and the Hebrew guidebook my labmate had leant me, and discussed the upcoming trek during the three hour ride to Kiryat Shmona.

There we exited the bus (after confirming with the driver that we were indeed where we thought!) and began trying to find the next step. We asked a couple official looking people if they knew where The National Trail began, and they looked at us blankly. One instructed us to take a taxi, but we were hoping to save that cost if possible. We thought we’d at least visit the bathroom at the bus station before heading out, and on our way saw a man coming from the building with a backpacker’s pack. I thought for sure he’d know, so in my best Hebrew I began to ask, “Slicha, ata yodea—“ “I’m American,” he interrupted. Well! So we told him we were looking for the trail and it turns out he is thru-hiking it and we happened upon him right as he was starting his six week trek.

He has dual citizenship with the USA and Israel, and had recently finished his service in the Israeli Defense Force, so he is fluent in Hebrew and while we used the facilities he went and spoke to the taxi drivers. Turns out they’re the best way to get from there to the start of the trail. There are busses that go closer, but they only run a few times a day and we would were eager to get hiking. We shared a taxi with him for 45 shekels—only 15 a piece, which seemed a great deal (he ended up paying for both of us, too, which was a great surprise!).

The beginning of the trail is on the edge of Dan on highway 99 behind a museum about the trail.

We did not visit the museum (we decided against it for time's sake, but I think it also might have been closed. Perhaps I’ll go see it after I’ve hiked more of the trail), but passed through the “lobby” as it were, to its backyard to make sure our water was filled, retie our shoes, make sure our packs were evenly weighted, and start out.

I was pretty excited to see the first trail maker, and as we were walking past it, this guy called to us to point us in another direction. We looked the way he was pointing, and back at the trail marker…and back toward his suggested direction. Eventually we decided to follow the marker, thinking perhaps he was trying to point us to a shortcut. We’d rather do the whole thing (our friend called it being “purists”), and thought we’d try the marked way and see if we came across another marker. This kind of “local pointing you a different way” seemed to come up a couple times—and once the misdirector’s friend laughed and said something about, “Oh come on, don’t tease them,” so we wondered if it is perhaps a fun inside joke for the locals to mess with the new hikers. We found it rather amusing as it didn’t actually mislead us or cost us anything. :-)

Thankfully at least one local was “on our side”. We were following the markers that led us down a wide gravel road, taking pictures of ourselves with Lebanon in the background on one side and Syrian in the background on the otherside, when the gravel road turned left.

So, we turned left also, never questioning the direction. Thankfully we were not five meters from the turn when a man drove by and noted our packs. “Shvil Israel?” “Ken.” (Somewhere along the way our new friend had taught us this name for trail--it came it very handy.) The driver pointed out a fence with a break in it back where the road turned and told us the trail went through the fence. Sure enough, when we doubled back and went through the fence, a few meters after it we found another marker. Ironic that there had been markers every few meters along the wide gravel road, but when the trail went straight where the road turned there was not marker. This proved to be a pattern.

Shortly we ran across a group of cows lounging on the path, and made our way respectfully past them, and to the creek beyond. The first running water of the day! (Or "living water"...in my Intro to Rabbinic Lit class we recently learned about the "red heifer" law recorded in Numbers 19 that describes how to cleanse someone who has become ritually unclean by having contact with a corpse (we'd seen some red-ish cows just before the stream, but no "pure red" one. ;-)

The prescription calls for "living water" in the Hebrew, which means water from a natural, flowing source. Last weekend we went for a hike in Ein Gedi and our guide was expounding about why the Dead Sea is so "dead", one reason being that it has no outlet. The water just comes in and sits there, brooding and getting saltier and saltier. I once heard this given as an analogy for us--if we receive and don't pour out blessings we stagnate and nothing good can grow in us, but if we receive, and then pass along (you know, like the Sea of Galilee), then we can give life to all kinds of metaphorical pretty trees and flowers and whatnot. Receiving and passing on things like forgiveness, love, compassion, time, money, understanding, wisdom, etc.)

The stream had become quite narrow in this drought (pray for rain for Israel!), so we easily crossed over on the rock or two midstream and came a little ways later to a barbed wire fence. After looking in several directions we determined that the trail was indeed leading us to the other side, so took turns holding up the barbs and climbing beneath them. On the other side of the fence to the right were signs that clearly indicated our path must turn left.

So south we turned. The sun wasn’t so hot yet, but it was still nice to enter a foresty area. It was great fun hiking with our new-found friend, since he has had a lot more, and different experience in Israel that either of us. He shared with us a lot about his time in the military (unclassified, of course!), and he recognized parts of the trail as places some of his training had taken place. Of course while he was doing those drills it was in the dark and with very different equipment and goals. One of their training exercises is like a scavenger hunt. The officers make markers on rocks or trees or something, and soldiers get to study a map and then find clues to find the marker. They do not know what the marker is, so when they find it they can return and report the description to their officer to show that they successfully completed the navigation. I thought this sounded like it could be so much fun! Of course it could also be very frustrating, and sometimes quite scary, I supposed. He told me that indeed, the first few times you have a kind of mentor, so you learn how to identify the landmarks you saw on the map (“This is what a riverbed looks like in the dark, when you’ve run ten miles, during a drought”), how to handle yourself on the search, and what to look for as the goal, etc. We passed one later on and he pointed out that it might be one of the markers (of course they’re always different, so he couldn’t be sure it was one).

The first day of the hike passes through a national park, and thankfully my classmate had a national park membership card, so we didn’t have to pay the entrance fee, and the lady at the booth told us we’d be do some stream stomping, so we stopped in the picnic area near the parking lot and switched our shoes to accommodate the river walking. (It's like a "Highlights" magazine: Can you find the trail marker hiding in the parking lot?)

I had considered bring my chocos, but opted for flipflops as they are lighter and I was thinking I would just be using them around the camp at night. It worked out just fine, but if doing it again, I would have preferred something more sturdy and better attached to my foot—almost lost one in the stream at one point and spent most the time curling my toes every time I lifted a foot to hold them on. :-P

As we made our way down the river, I looked up from my cold feet taking cautious steps on the stones and saw the back patio of a restaurant. “I’ve been here before!!” I was shocked! I felt like I was far off somewhere deep in a forest, and hadn’t realized we were right next to the place our guide had brought us three years prior for a lunch before (or after?) a hike through the nature reserve we were now exploring. It felt somehow homey, and I remembered last time seeing kayakers on the larger river parallel to us. There’s another thing I hope to do before the year ends. A few of my friends have kayaked sections of the Jordan River before, and we hope to go together soon (although the weather is cooling off, we may wait until spring or summer).

Along the way we passed a handful of those man-made bee hive boxes where I suppose people are collecting honey. My classmate and I noted that a land literally flowing with milk (from the cows we saw periodically along the way) and honey would be quite a stinky, sticky place, but that the existence of these two products implies quite a lot in the way of water, grass/grain, flowers, and land. This weekend our guide told us that most likely the idea back then of “milk and honey” was of goat’s milk and fig honey. But the implications of provision for flocks and plenty of water and flowering plants still comes through with that, as well (we just didn’t notice as many goats and fig trees on our hike as we did cows and bees).

We noticed that there seemed to be more trail markers along pleasanter parts of the path than those out in the sun, and joked about the trail marking people drawing out their duties in some stretches of the hike more than others. Nevertheless, I was impressed by the newness of the markers, and doubly so when I would see some old ones that had faded—showing how important it is that the trailkeepers continue to go over the trek regularly.

We were repeatedly astonished at how many different kinds of land we passed through in only two days. Starting out in a kibbutz, passing through farm-like land into a forest, down a river and out into the sun, walking along a country road. Then up a mountain, past orchards, and into a completely different kind of forest, now on a ridge rather than in the center of a valley.

Walking up one road, some people offered us a ride to the kibbutz up the way, but aiming to be “purists” we declined. We were rewarded by getting to see the remains of an unlucky porcupine that had battled with a vehicle and lost. It was sad, but really neat to see it up close. Shortly after, we came to the kibbutz and stopped to change back into our hiking shoes, have a little lunch, and see on the map how far we'd come.

The preceding week I had visited the shuk as usual, but along with my normal veggies, I also bought almonds, walnuts, pecans, pumpkin seeds, dried cranberries, and dried apricots, and mixed them together for a world-class trail mix! Add an apple to that and I was good to go! :-)

We'd come out from the forest, that only grows by the river, of course, and were now crossing by farm land. I kept seeing trees and plants that looked familiar, but could not identify them. My companions were quite patient with me as I repeatedly asked, "Oh, I know that tree, what is it...? I've never seen a bush like that, what do you think it is? Wow, look at how tall those reeds are--what kind are they?" and laughingly answered, "I'm sorry, I'm no botanist." The difference in our considerations highlighted to me the way my family functions differently than many others.

I knew if they were with me, we'd be having in depth discussion of the leaves and branches, the climate, and where we might have seen such characteristics before. Instead, my hiking buddies and I looked across the valley at the mountains ahead and discussed whether we thought we'd be hiking up, around, through, parallel to, or in some other relation to them, and took note of the still high position of the sun in the sky.

We came to a fork in the road, where the trail seemed to split in four parts...with no trail marker to be found. After some searching to no avail, we decided to each take one way and see what we could find. Sure enough, up the little hill we found another marker. So, up we went. And up. And up. The end of "Day 1" in the Hebrew Guidebook is at the top of the first plateau, at a community called Kfar Giladi, or Gilead Village. We were thrilled to arrive at the end of "Day 1" having arrived at the start of the trail mid-morning, and still having several hours of daylight left. So, we drank some water (and did not think to refill!) and continued on to "Day 2".

The start of "Day 2" heads slightly downhill into a small valley...and then directly back up the valley! After about ten minutes of hiking, we passed right by the end of "Day 1" again! But we'd had a good view of the valley, and saw some ruins of an aqueduct, and I wonder if we could read the Hebrew better, if it would have been an interesting side trip. Most of the "out of the way" sections were clearly great for seeing more of the land, like the round about way we'd come from Dan to here--through the beautiful forest and stream, or like we would experience the next day, down one side of a wadi and back up the other, but this one seemed a bit superfluous, and it leaves me wondering what we missed.

The next long while we were making our way along the ridge of Mount Gilead and Mount Nimrod. Our new friend pointed out parts of the forest that are growing back. While aiming for the city at the bottom of the hill during the second Lebanon war, some rockets fell short. The underbrush has grown up since, and now the trees are making a comeback too. :)

As the sun began his decent, we started discussing where to stop for the night. We passed a few campsites, but I was pushing us to try and cover the most ground as we could before dark. Finally it seemed like we better stop, as the sun was now behind the mountains, and I suggested that maybe we could get to the top of the current hill before finding a sleeping place, so that in the morning we could start on a plateau, or even downhill...

Turns out that was too much to ask. ;-) We walked in the dark for quite some time, but by the time we'd decided to stop, there were no sleeping places to be found! We found ourselves on a mountain road with cliff on one side and guardrail on the other.

Finally we came to the end of the guardrail and eventually found a spot to drop, still just beside the road, but we decided it was safe, and thankfully only a few cars had passed us on this road, so we hoped we wouldn't be woken up throughout the night by headlights and engines going by.

We plopped down, got as comfortable as possible on the rocks, pebbles, and stones, and slipped off to sleep long after sunset...maybe around 7:30pm? ;-)