Yam L'Yam (aka Sea-to-Sea [aka A-Shower-Ain't-Never-Felt-So-Good])
After spending a wonderful Sukkot with my family here in Jerusalem attending several birthday parties and getting thoroughly confused trying to understand all the Hebrew and lack of English, I met up with my group Sunday at Hebrew Union College and hopped on the bus. Then, we headed nort for Yam L'Yam, the Sea to Sea Trek.
Way north...picking up people on the way.
Even farther north. Then a bit east. Finally, to the Sea of Galilee (Kineret in Hebrew). There, we met our guide for the next five days---Dani, from Tzukim Travel. He got us aquainted with the region and took us on an introductory hike through the river feeding into the Kineret. This river is dry most of the year, and we were privileged to be able to do all 3km of the hike in water up to our waists. Basically, we waded through the life blood of the Kineret, which was a very cool experience.
After the water hike, we got back on the bus and drove about 30 minutes paralleling the Golan Heights, a strip of land in the northeast-most corner of Israel that was gained in the 1967 War and is still "disputed" territory. After about a 1/2 hour drive, we arrived at our first night camp near the town of Zefat, where we were introduced to some of the best soup I've ever eaten and told to watch out for scorpions when we sit down. Oh, and I got to pee on a thorn bush. And not on a scorpion. That night, Dani took us on a walk and left us by ourselves at a distance from each other to have us experience what it's like to be alone in the wilderness at night. I took the opportunity for some good reflection on what I wanted to get out of the trip and a small nap, until I felt a pain in the tuchus...thorn bush, not a scorpion. No worries.
The next morning, we woke up and crawled out of our sleeping bags (no tents--too cheap), only to find that the sun hadn't risen yet. Rude awakening has a new meaning, let me tell you. Some three cups of tea later, we loaded all our food and supplies into our backpacks and set off for the day's hike.
Before I go any farther, let me explain how the group dynamic of this trek works. Our group of 30-ish was split into four groups of 8-9 kids and one madrich (counselor), and each group received a crate with the food rations for that day, including breakfast, lunch, snacks, and cooking materials (pots, pans, gas burners). So basically, our group of eight was completely self-sustained. Each of us had all the water we needed for cooking and drinking, and we distributed the food and supplies amongst ourselves. Also, there was a topographic map one of us was in charge of (that would be me) in each group that we were supposed to use to navigate---but more on that soon.
In any case, from night camp we followed a wadi---riverbed, or valley (in Arabic)---up to an old British outpost that served to guard the water source from invaders from Saudi Arabia and Syria in the early 1800 and 1900's. From here, we could see Har (Mtn.) Meron, the tallest mountain peak in Israel within the pre-1967 War boundaries. The peak was covered by clouds and dwarfed us...It was at this point that Dani informed us that our night camp was at the top of that mountain. Joy.
Some hours later, after descending horrendously steep switchbacks into the bottom of the wadi, we came across a rushing stream. We stopped here for breakfast, and after some yummy cream-of-wheat and tea, Dani gave us a destination on our map about 5km away and told us to navigate to that point, leaving a marker on the way to show that we aren't dead. After a bit of confusion at first caused by several trails branching off, I found our way and kept us straight and true all the way to the rendevous point. This was a really cool activity for me, navigating using just my surroundings and attempting to find out just where in the hell I was...you should try finding your way in the middle of a wadi in Israel someday. It's a trip.
Around five hours and an oversalted pot of rice later, our group reached the lookout point near the peak of Har Meron. From here, we could see just how far we had come in one day---about 20km. Dani pointed out the British outpost visible in the distance as a white speck on the ridge of the wadi. We could also see the Kineret from this spot, and beyond that the Golan Heights, and Syria beyond that. By far the most amazing sight for me, even more important than seeing where we had come from, was seeing the Lebanese border no more than a few kilometers from where we stood. Not only that, there is an important Israeli air intelligence base on top of Har Meron, and we could see dozens of burned-up stands of trees spread out on the side of the mountain from where Ketyusha rockets fired from Lebanon had attempted to hit the air base. Dani pointed out a few settlements right on the border, and when I asked how life up there had been affected by the war, he replied simply: "Life goes on." This experience of being inside what was a war zone (arguably, still is) a month ago was very cool, considering we didn't think we'd have the opportunity. The war really hasn't affected life too much, all things considered. There's still a large military presence, but I recall seeing at least a few hundred other backpackers and adventurers on the trail that were just happy to be walking around the land, and there were more than a few hearty "Chag Sameach"'s passed on, wishing everyone a happy holiday. So, in Dani's words, life goes on. There may be some who try to wipe Israel off the map, but in the end, life will continue.
The third day of the trip, our second day of backpacking, was much easier than the trek up Har Meron---that was one hell of a hike, and I consider myself in decent shape. This hike also involved some navigating, but wasn't nearly as difficult, and also included some vegetarian-hunting on my group's part. Think teenagers with walkie-talkies and topo maps, trying to get to the rendevous point first. Enough said. The signifcant part of this day's hike was the transition from one major wadi to the next. We crossed into Nachal Achziv, which would be the wadi we followed all the way to the Mediterranean Sea, so you can imagine that this wadi is a big deal as far as navigation routes are concerned. At one point along this hike, Dani turns to us and says, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now hiking on 100% Grade A Israeli cow shit." And indeed, we were hiking through a cow pasture. Mmm, dinner. Note to self: do not do blind-folded trust walks when there are rocks or ledges involved, or if there is any trace of livestock around. By the time we got to night camp, most of us were ready to collapse, until the counselors found scorpions in the sleeping bags and panic ensued. Shortly thereafter, we all went to bed anyway, scorpions or no, right after looking up at shooting stars (I saw two!) and finding the North Star.
Another day, and this time there was some serious hiking included. There is a type of hiking called "bouldering." It is exactly what it sounds like: hiking on boulders---hopping, rather, from boulder to boulder, in a dry riverbed. However much fun it may sound like, after a certain point one's ankles decide to give one the proverbial finger, and then it just becomes too much fun for anyone to grasp without Advil or Ibuprofen. On this day, our group learned how to make fire, mostly thanks to me getting a black lung trying to keep our one match from going out and not letting us have fire. The survival techniques we learned during this day were some of the best tips I've received in a long time, major props to Dani. After a long, long, long day of bouldering and getting gas stoves blasted in our [my] faces and burning fingers, we reached our next night camp and enjoyed some apple tea and another batch of yummy soup. I've decided that all food is better with a little dirt and grime and outdoors in it.
Our final day of hiking was from the bottom of Nachal Achziv to the very top of the Nachal Achziv Nature Reserve campsite, way up on the top of another mountain. This gave us a wonderful view of a Crusader castle perched on the ridgeline across from us right as the sun set, and would have been even better had our group not been dropping like flies. Throughout the day, people's knees were giving out, one poor guy fell and cut open his shin, and poor me had his left eye get infected, and was forced to hike with only one contact in...which is not at all good on the knees. However funny it may have been, the part where I almost fell of the edge of the trail and would have plummeted hundreds of meters to my demise due to lack of footing and lack of depth perception was not fun. I think that's the only time I've seen Tom, our Israeli madrich, actually show fear: "Don't do that again. Thank you," were his words, I believe. Finally, myself and the rest of the "gimp crew" reached our final night camp atop the mountain, only to be met by around a hundred IDF soldiers with very large weapons walking around. That's one thing I'm still getting used to about this country: there's military everywhere. Later, I found out that we were within walking distance from Lebanon, which explained the military presence. That night was nice, being able to pass out while actually having real bathrooms to use, and making smores around the fire.
At last, the morning came, and with it came the part I've been waiting for since I arrived: the biking portion. From the top of the mountain, we hopped on some crappy Schwinn "mountain" bikes (I'm being a bike snob, so what) and cruised downhill all the way to the Mediterranean Sea, traversing some hundreds of acres of banana fields first and almost running over a nachash (snake). For those of you that even remotely know me, you'll know why I have to be on a bike, and why it's painful after a month and a half of no pedalling.
Then, the moment we'd awaited for 5 days came: the Sea came into sight. Most of us literally jumped off the bikes and into the water immediately, taking the time to pour a bottle of water from the Kineret in, symbolizing our epic journey and the completion of it. The feeling of the water on my skin was amazing, more from the knowledge that I completed a hike across the country rather than the fact that it was about bathtub temperature and oh so pleasant. I mean, I completed Yam L'Yam. Wicked.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving back at Kibbutz Tzuba, home sweet home, I took the best shower of my entire life. After five days in the wilderness, I hadn't changed clothes or showered, aside from a few dips in natural springs. The tub literally had a black ring in the bottom by the time I was clean. Boy, did that ever feel good! Sadly, I had to retire my Merrell hiking shoes, which took a toll from the hard conditions and fell apart over the hike. After finally catching up on my rest, I was able to celebrate Simchas Torah, where we begin reading the Torah at the beginning again in the Beit Knesset HaGadol, the Jerusalem Great Synagogue. This was a new and exciting experience, with hardly any order or apparent leadership, but was nonetheless very meaningful---I got to carry three Sefrei Torah and parade around with a bunch of Orthodox men battling for their hymn to be the loudest. All in all, the experience of my Chag (holiday) was AMAZING, and I would do it again any day.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On one last note, this morning (Sunday) while I was in Hebrew, I noticed some strange clouds blowing in. Lo and behold, some 15 minutes later, the skies opened up and gave use the first Geshem (rain) of the Jewish year. Considering there hasn't been significant rainfall in about 8 months, this was a big big deal...I even saw a few kibbutzniks saying prayers of thanks, and several small children sheltering from the rain like it would melt them.
I really don't think I could have asked for a better holiday: celebrating Sukkot, going on Yam L'Yam, carrying Torahs at Simchas Torah, and experiencing the Yeruh (first rain)...so much to be thankful for, and so little time to thank. For now, Chag Sameach to everyone, and remember to send letters/e-mails. Hopefully, pictures will be up soon.
Shalom,
Aron
aronaltmark@aol.com
Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL
**Please be sure to mark all letters with, “AIRMAIL.”
Way north...picking up people on the way.
Even farther north. Then a bit east. Finally, to the Sea of Galilee (Kineret in Hebrew). There, we met our guide for the next five days---Dani, from Tzukim Travel. He got us aquainted with the region and took us on an introductory hike through the river feeding into the Kineret. This river is dry most of the year, and we were privileged to be able to do all 3km of the hike in water up to our waists. Basically, we waded through the life blood of the Kineret, which was a very cool experience.
After the water hike, we got back on the bus and drove about 30 minutes paralleling the Golan Heights, a strip of land in the northeast-most corner of Israel that was gained in the 1967 War and is still "disputed" territory. After about a 1/2 hour drive, we arrived at our first night camp near the town of Zefat, where we were introduced to some of the best soup I've ever eaten and told to watch out for scorpions when we sit down. Oh, and I got to pee on a thorn bush. And not on a scorpion. That night, Dani took us on a walk and left us by ourselves at a distance from each other to have us experience what it's like to be alone in the wilderness at night. I took the opportunity for some good reflection on what I wanted to get out of the trip and a small nap, until I felt a pain in the tuchus...thorn bush, not a scorpion. No worries.
The next morning, we woke up and crawled out of our sleeping bags (no tents--too cheap), only to find that the sun hadn't risen yet. Rude awakening has a new meaning, let me tell you. Some three cups of tea later, we loaded all our food and supplies into our backpacks and set off for the day's hike.
Before I go any farther, let me explain how the group dynamic of this trek works. Our group of 30-ish was split into four groups of 8-9 kids and one madrich (counselor), and each group received a crate with the food rations for that day, including breakfast, lunch, snacks, and cooking materials (pots, pans, gas burners). So basically, our group of eight was completely self-sustained. Each of us had all the water we needed for cooking and drinking, and we distributed the food and supplies amongst ourselves. Also, there was a topographic map one of us was in charge of (that would be me) in each group that we were supposed to use to navigate---but more on that soon.
In any case, from night camp we followed a wadi---riverbed, or valley (in Arabic)---up to an old British outpost that served to guard the water source from invaders from Saudi Arabia and Syria in the early 1800 and 1900's. From here, we could see Har (Mtn.) Meron, the tallest mountain peak in Israel within the pre-1967 War boundaries. The peak was covered by clouds and dwarfed us...It was at this point that Dani informed us that our night camp was at the top of that mountain. Joy.
Some hours later, after descending horrendously steep switchbacks into the bottom of the wadi, we came across a rushing stream. We stopped here for breakfast, and after some yummy cream-of-wheat and tea, Dani gave us a destination on our map about 5km away and told us to navigate to that point, leaving a marker on the way to show that we aren't dead. After a bit of confusion at first caused by several trails branching off, I found our way and kept us straight and true all the way to the rendevous point. This was a really cool activity for me, navigating using just my surroundings and attempting to find out just where in the hell I was...you should try finding your way in the middle of a wadi in Israel someday. It's a trip.
Around five hours and an oversalted pot of rice later, our group reached the lookout point near the peak of Har Meron. From here, we could see just how far we had come in one day---about 20km. Dani pointed out the British outpost visible in the distance as a white speck on the ridge of the wadi. We could also see the Kineret from this spot, and beyond that the Golan Heights, and Syria beyond that. By far the most amazing sight for me, even more important than seeing where we had come from, was seeing the Lebanese border no more than a few kilometers from where we stood. Not only that, there is an important Israeli air intelligence base on top of Har Meron, and we could see dozens of burned-up stands of trees spread out on the side of the mountain from where Ketyusha rockets fired from Lebanon had attempted to hit the air base. Dani pointed out a few settlements right on the border, and when I asked how life up there had been affected by the war, he replied simply: "Life goes on." This experience of being inside what was a war zone (arguably, still is) a month ago was very cool, considering we didn't think we'd have the opportunity. The war really hasn't affected life too much, all things considered. There's still a large military presence, but I recall seeing at least a few hundred other backpackers and adventurers on the trail that were just happy to be walking around the land, and there were more than a few hearty "Chag Sameach"'s passed on, wishing everyone a happy holiday. So, in Dani's words, life goes on. There may be some who try to wipe Israel off the map, but in the end, life will continue.
The third day of the trip, our second day of backpacking, was much easier than the trek up Har Meron---that was one hell of a hike, and I consider myself in decent shape. This hike also involved some navigating, but wasn't nearly as difficult, and also included some vegetarian-hunting on my group's part. Think teenagers with walkie-talkies and topo maps, trying to get to the rendevous point first. Enough said. The signifcant part of this day's hike was the transition from one major wadi to the next. We crossed into Nachal Achziv, which would be the wadi we followed all the way to the Mediterranean Sea, so you can imagine that this wadi is a big deal as far as navigation routes are concerned. At one point along this hike, Dani turns to us and says, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now hiking on 100% Grade A Israeli cow shit." And indeed, we were hiking through a cow pasture. Mmm, dinner. Note to self: do not do blind-folded trust walks when there are rocks or ledges involved, or if there is any trace of livestock around. By the time we got to night camp, most of us were ready to collapse, until the counselors found scorpions in the sleeping bags and panic ensued. Shortly thereafter, we all went to bed anyway, scorpions or no, right after looking up at shooting stars (I saw two!) and finding the North Star.
Another day, and this time there was some serious hiking included. There is a type of hiking called "bouldering." It is exactly what it sounds like: hiking on boulders---hopping, rather, from boulder to boulder, in a dry riverbed. However much fun it may sound like, after a certain point one's ankles decide to give one the proverbial finger, and then it just becomes too much fun for anyone to grasp without Advil or Ibuprofen. On this day, our group learned how to make fire, mostly thanks to me getting a black lung trying to keep our one match from going out and not letting us have fire. The survival techniques we learned during this day were some of the best tips I've received in a long time, major props to Dani. After a long, long, long day of bouldering and getting gas stoves blasted in our [my] faces and burning fingers, we reached our next night camp and enjoyed some apple tea and another batch of yummy soup. I've decided that all food is better with a little dirt and grime and outdoors in it.
Our final day of hiking was from the bottom of Nachal Achziv to the very top of the Nachal Achziv Nature Reserve campsite, way up on the top of another mountain. This gave us a wonderful view of a Crusader castle perched on the ridgeline across from us right as the sun set, and would have been even better had our group not been dropping like flies. Throughout the day, people's knees were giving out, one poor guy fell and cut open his shin, and poor me had his left eye get infected, and was forced to hike with only one contact in...which is not at all good on the knees. However funny it may have been, the part where I almost fell of the edge of the trail and would have plummeted hundreds of meters to my demise due to lack of footing and lack of depth perception was not fun. I think that's the only time I've seen Tom, our Israeli madrich, actually show fear: "Don't do that again. Thank you," were his words, I believe. Finally, myself and the rest of the "gimp crew" reached our final night camp atop the mountain, only to be met by around a hundred IDF soldiers with very large weapons walking around. That's one thing I'm still getting used to about this country: there's military everywhere. Later, I found out that we were within walking distance from Lebanon, which explained the military presence. That night was nice, being able to pass out while actually having real bathrooms to use, and making smores around the fire.
At last, the morning came, and with it came the part I've been waiting for since I arrived: the biking portion. From the top of the mountain, we hopped on some crappy Schwinn "mountain" bikes (I'm being a bike snob, so what) and cruised downhill all the way to the Mediterranean Sea, traversing some hundreds of acres of banana fields first and almost running over a nachash (snake). For those of you that even remotely know me, you'll know why I have to be on a bike, and why it's painful after a month and a half of no pedalling.
Then, the moment we'd awaited for 5 days came: the Sea came into sight. Most of us literally jumped off the bikes and into the water immediately, taking the time to pour a bottle of water from the Kineret in, symbolizing our epic journey and the completion of it. The feeling of the water on my skin was amazing, more from the knowledge that I completed a hike across the country rather than the fact that it was about bathtub temperature and oh so pleasant. I mean, I completed Yam L'Yam. Wicked.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving back at Kibbutz Tzuba, home sweet home, I took the best shower of my entire life. After five days in the wilderness, I hadn't changed clothes or showered, aside from a few dips in natural springs. The tub literally had a black ring in the bottom by the time I was clean. Boy, did that ever feel good! Sadly, I had to retire my Merrell hiking shoes, which took a toll from the hard conditions and fell apart over the hike. After finally catching up on my rest, I was able to celebrate Simchas Torah, where we begin reading the Torah at the beginning again in the Beit Knesset HaGadol, the Jerusalem Great Synagogue. This was a new and exciting experience, with hardly any order or apparent leadership, but was nonetheless very meaningful---I got to carry three Sefrei Torah and parade around with a bunch of Orthodox men battling for their hymn to be the loudest. All in all, the experience of my Chag (holiday) was AMAZING, and I would do it again any day.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On one last note, this morning (Sunday) while I was in Hebrew, I noticed some strange clouds blowing in. Lo and behold, some 15 minutes later, the skies opened up and gave use the first Geshem (rain) of the Jewish year. Considering there hasn't been significant rainfall in about 8 months, this was a big big deal...I even saw a few kibbutzniks saying prayers of thanks, and several small children sheltering from the rain like it would melt them.
I really don't think I could have asked for a better holiday: celebrating Sukkot, going on Yam L'Yam, carrying Torahs at Simchas Torah, and experiencing the Yeruh (first rain)...so much to be thankful for, and so little time to thank. For now, Chag Sameach to everyone, and remember to send letters/e-mails. Hopefully, pictures will be up soon.
Shalom,
Aron
aronaltmark@aol.com
Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL
**Please be sure to mark all letters with, “AIRMAIL.”
posted by aron at 6:11 PM
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