The last few weeks have been quite full. I returned full force to research for the week and then took Friday morning to progress further on the Shvil. An early bus dropped me off where I’d left off and I struck out across a field, with great energy and motivation, only to be quickly thwarted by a creek crossing the trail. From the looks of it, quite a few feet deep, and a little swampy. And no rocks to ease the crossing. I decided to walk along the shore in search of a crossing. I did find a pipe that looked like it might serve as a bridge, with a little balance and a lot of caution, but the amount of movement the little pressure on it with just my hands created turned me away from it, and I continued my search.
I knew how wet socks so aggravate blisters, so I was determined to find a dry way across, but as I walked along the southern bank through the reeds, all of a sudden I felt myself step into an invisible marsh. Even when I quickly whipped my eyes back to the ground before my feet, I could not see the dry way out. A sigh of defeat, and I splashed my way across the reed-covered pond to dry land. Still on the south side of the creek. Still separated from the continuing trail. Eventually I found a shallow section where the creek flowed across pavement and under the highway, and I was able to hop across it with no extra wetness than my sneakers had already acquired. To any of you heading out here, this is at HaMovil Junction, and if you’re okay with it, you can skip this corner of the trail by walking along the road to where the trail emerges from the field at the next bus stop. ;-)
Thankfully it was a warm, dry day, and my shoes dried in not too long. When I stopped for my first break, I took the time to remove the damp socks and tie them to my pack to dry while I walked, and replace them with the dry extra ones I regularly bring along. This hike turned out to be a very thank-filled hike. Over and over I found myself being thankful for things my parents taught me, experiences I had as a child, and so on. My mother taught us to always bring along extra socks and underwear on any journey (I amended it in this case, thankfully in the right way, since it was only socks I needed). One time her extra pair of clean socks had been put to good use for my nose when confronted with a cave full of guano. Socks are quite a versatile piece of equipment.
At one bend in a valley, I was a little startled to see fifty or so cows walking, albeit ploddingly, directly at me, and I was glad for the numerous encounters I have had with cows this year, that I was not nearly as disturbed as I would have been at this sight back in September. So far, all the cows I’d encountered were still as I passed, or even walked away from me. It turned out that these were being driven from behind by their cowherd, and I climbed up the side of the valley a little to make way for them. I was also thankful for the sound effect the Narnia moviemakers used for their Minotaurs. Apparently I’d never heard cows roar in real life before, and it would have been quite more alarming if I hadn’t heard it in surround sound before.
As the trail moved near a village and was graced by a familiar, and rather strong odor, I was so thankful for the summer camp that I grew up attending, which always felt like home when I was a child. I was thankful that due to all the happy memories made at Camp Stevens, the smell of compost always warms my heart and cheers my mind, rather than having the effect typical to the human olfactory system.
And I was grateful that my parents brought me up around big dogs, so I am familiar with their body language, and not afraid of them if they are exhibiting only warnings, and not outright threats. When I had to pass near a group of un-roped canines, I was thankful that I knew to pass by them without turning my back, eliciting the chase instinct.
I had about 13 miles to cover before reaching Kibbutz Yagur, where I would catch a bus back to Haifa before they stopped running for Shabbat. So as my pace kept up pretty well, I was thankful for the good weather and a healthy body. And even more so when I reached the point where I could see Eskol Tower (a building at the University of Haifa) in the distance. Still very far away, but at least in sight for the first time. I could hardly believe how far I'd made it since February. (Though of course, thru-hikers do this in less than a week, and here I was four months later, but still. ;-))
And finally near the end, when I wasn’t sure of the direction of the trail, I was met by a madrich (like a camp counselor), who was out scouting the trail for the group he would guide the following week. He not only showed me where the trail continued, but set a faster pace, which I was able to keep up with, getting me there quite a bit earlier than I probably would have, and showed me some fun edible plants along the way. It was great chatting in half Hebrew, half English, and a lot of gestures, and I asked him about why Israel is keeping around the Eucalyptus trees, when they were originally planted to suck up the water from swamplands (though now Israel is in a severe drought). Apparently they don’t take up as much water as originally thought, their wood is good for building, and their blossoms great for honey bees. Go figure. But it made me feel a bit better, anyway.
I made it to the Kibbutz, caught a bus back to Mifrats, then up the hill to shower, shove a spoonful of hummus in my mouth and head out the door to pick up some visitors coming to kabbalat Shabbat at Beit Eliahu that night. :)
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