I don't hike much in Israel. I love mountains and the chill that comes with them. I don't like heat. And Israel - well, Israel is heat. It's also not at best when it comes to infrastructure for a solo hiker.
As the first quarantine started my regular hiking buddy (also known as mom) didn't immediately give up on our summer hiking plans. But as April turned into May and moved into the summer, it was clear that this year we will not be hiking in Europe. So the plans turned locally, to the Israel National Trail. The plan was to do 5 days in the north, Galilee to Carmel mountain.
INT trail blaze: White for snow in the north, blue for the sea, orange for the desert.
But we make plans and god laughs. Work overload and a second state-wide quarantine led to us to doing only two days, joining the trail as it passes on the Carmel mountain range, not far from where my family lives. These sections of the trail are basically an up-down-up-down hike across the mountain range. I say mountain because that's what it's called but with its highest peak at 542 meter above sea level, the Carmel is more of a hilly range.
What the hike lacks in mountains it more that compensate for in local scenery. Much of the hike is in the various Wadis crisscrossing the mountain range. A Wadi being a deep, mostly dry river bed, often coming down from a mountain, containing water only when there's heavy rain or floods. A Wadi hikes often includes some boulders and rocks to climb over, and sometimes, it is recently rained - mud and dips in the rocks that now contain water, sometimes deep.
It also has some great local woodlands. It's a typical Mediterranean woodland, with trees, shrubs, bushes and other plants mingling together to create a cool shade. I get a flashback to school, where we had a "know your forest" competition, learning to identify and classify the main components of our local forest. The acorns has a special place in my heart - like many of the Jewish kindergarteners, we used to collect them, dispensing of the acorns themselves and using the cups to build a Hanukkiah, a candle holder for the holiday of Hanukkah.
The Ktalav tree has a red bark, which it sheds once a year, revealing a pleasantly smooth, new bark underneath.
There's great charm to this type of vegetation. The coolness of the woodland stands in great contrast to the heat out in the open. Natural stone formations provide for great seating along the way. There's a constant undertone of leaves rotting on the forest floor, which is fresh and earthy. The Carub tree is in full bloom, and every few minutes we get a whiff of its unique smell (not to mention the buzzing of bees around it). The Ktalav, my favorite tree, just finished shedding its bark, and I can't help but run my hands all over its red smooth new bark.
We hike up in the Wadi, then down again and up again, crossing from shade to sunlight and back again. There's few very small sections with ladders and handrails. There's some ancient ruins, and some even more ancient caves and unusual geological formations.
The INT blaze, the only one with orange, is intersected by other blazes, and we are deep in conversation about the art and science of trail marking. The INT was built on top of existing trails, and while it's generally well market, its unclear when and why they choose to add its mark. In some areas its clearly visible, having been recently repainted, while in other the Mediterranean sun has already faded it out. In some cases we use the oldest trick in the bag - we turned around and check for marking going the other way, to confirm we are on the correct trial.
As we hike I am reminded of the subtle beauty of this land. It's not breathtaking, nor is it unique, but it has its quiet charm.
It's also dirty. With warring parties fighting over this place, they seem to forget about the land itself. Between people throwing garbage or not taking their trash with them, there's always signs of civilization, if you can call a bag of chips that. When I was a kid we were taught in the kindergarten not to pick wild flowers. We brought this campaign home, teaching our parents that picking wildflowers is wrong. This is still remembered as one of the reasons for the return of some of the wildflowers to our nature. Why can't they do the same with littering? it's simple - anything you take with you, you take back.
The trail takes us over the top of the range and with every step the sea reveals itself to us. We move from creeks to forest to open roads and back. Some of the creeks require maneuvering and a steady foot.
Did I mention that all creek beds are dry unless otherwise stated? It might not be obvious if you come from somewhere else, but this time of year (late October) and even with the rainy winter we had, only very few creeks and not completely dry. After all, it's been almost 6 months since it last rained.
Having completed the crossing of the range, we start heading south along the edge of the mountain. It's like a hand formation, with fingers reaching out towards the sea, and the space between them being one indistinct Wadi after the other. We are not longer in the woodlands, but rather in low schrubes, crossing ruins of Palestinian villages, with many Tsabar bushes around. Since being brought from Central America several centuries ago, they became a tool to create nature barriers. Their existence say - people lived here.
The first two days end at Nahal Me'arot - literally Creek of Caves. While we saw caves all throughout the hike (the geological nature of this area lends itself to the creation of caves), this is the site of extensive pre-historic human habitation. The site is great for kids, with interactive exhibits on the life of pre-historic people and caves to run around in. It's surrounded by something much more modern - banana and avocado plantation orchards as far as the eye could see. This is where we end part 1 of the Carmel crossing.
Hiked in this post: Sections 13 and 14 of the Israel National Trail. ~30 KM, moderate hike.
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